" /> my pink toes: November 2007 Archives

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November 30, 2007

My Official Sluff Post

This is truly my sluff post - and on the last day of NaBloPoMo, too! I did it (posted every day in November), with varying degrees of quality. I plan to do a better recap on Sunday or Monday.

I'm off in 30 minutes to visit my mom for the weekend (who had oral surgery this week - it's been a week of parental-medical stuff here at Team Smith). Jim is progressing well, thankfully! Dave will be here to hang with his family for the weekend.

I can't find the Best Christmas Album Ever to put on my iPod for the trip (Ray Charles "The Spirit of Christmas"). The CD is currently floating around and iTunes shamefully doesn't carry it. Oh well, I'll survive. Dave burned a Pokemon movie to the PSP memory, so we're set (until they fight over it so hard I confiscate it...)

So today I leave you with a gratuitous photo of Henry and Jango. Cheers!
Jango eats Henry's ear

November 29, 2007

In the Presence of Youth

Jim made it through the first critical 24 hours and is now coherent, off the ventilator, and down from 13 (!) IV drips to 5. Thank you all for your continued thoughts and prayers.

Velma was concerned because the first time she visited him after they "woke him up" (took him off anesthesia), he seemed really disoriented. "Do you know who I am?" she asked. He nodded. "Do you know you just had surgery?" Another nod. "Do you know where you are?" Hesitation and a slight nod. "How do you feel?" No response. She was worried - he didn't seem himself and he wouldn't talk.

When she went back in a half hour later, he stuck his tongue out at her. She came back out laughing. Yup, he's back and doing just fine.

The boys and I went to the hospital for 5 hours today. I guess that seems crazy when I type it like that, but it seemed the thing to do. Velma is absolutely charmed by my children (probably a big part of why I adore her so much), and being around the kids makes her happy. I packed a bag full of puzzles, games, toys and food and we hung out in the waiting room. The boys acted pretty much like two exuberant boys made to be quiet for a long time, but managed not to knock over too much furniture or scare any patients past recovery.

When my grandmother was in the cardiac unit, I would bring then-2-year-old Henry to play. We'd bring a bag full of Thomas engines and track and build routes around her bed. She was too tired to interact, but she like having us there. We made her smile and it took her mind off the pain and tedium. I think there's something about having children around that brightens everyone. In a unit full of elderly people and people visiting their elderly parents, many of whom are in much more frightening situations than Jim, children can be a pleasant distraction. I talked repeatedly with Henry about why we were there: to encourage and support Nana. Peter charmed visitors as they stepped off the elevator into his elaborate Star Wars action figure scenario, complete with motorcycle and vigorous sound effects. I felt like for the most part, we all enjoyed having the energy of such youth and vitality around as a contrast to the gloom and uncertainty past the nurses' station.

Once the rest of the family got off work and came over, I figured it was time to go. I'm not sure why we stayed so long, but it felt natural and it felt like the right thing to do. In occasions like this, I'm finding it's just best to go with the moment and with what feels like the right thing to do. I hope we brought Velma joy today. I had peace just being there. In just being present with the family we hold so dear.

November 28, 2007

The Answer Was a Quadruple Bypass

...the questions were and are a bit more complicated.

The angiogram revealed that Dave's dad had only 5% of heart capacity (much less than the doctor thought). Apparently he had two previous silent yet massive heart attacks. As we all went about our lives, as Jim played Solitaire on the computer, as Nana played puzzles with Peter, as Dave was at work, as we were sleeping, as I was chopping vegetables, as Henry was at recess, as I was drinking coffee...at any of those times - twice - Jim had a heart attack. Silent. Sweeping. Ominous. Hidden.

Angiogram at 1pm. Quadruple Bypass at 4 pm. Tension at 8 pm when they had to open him back up to fix an arrhythmia. Uneasy peace at 9 pm when he was fully out of surgery. The next 24 hours are critical. The minutes continue to tick by, as always. Traffic lights turn green, dishwashers go through the rinse cycle, gas tanks need filling. How can anything happen as normal when life is so tenuous? So precious. So tender. So taken for granted.

We sleep tonight and find more in the morning. Keep heaven alight and buzzing with your prayers. Our God is mighty. He takes nothing for granted.

November 27, 2007

Parents Aren't Supposed to Get Old

I know it's NaBloPoMo and all, but I'm going to have to take the night off.

Dave's dad is in the hospital. Not the ER, but the hospital. He's been having some breathing difficulties. Tomorrow he has an angiogram.

Parents are supposed to be invincible. Even when they're 78.

Please keep him in your prayers.

November 26, 2007

Your Login Attempt Failed

Your login attempt failed. This is probably because you are a moron. Or because you created your password one late night after watching a VH-1 marathon and chose something so cute and nostalgic like IWOULDDIE4U but now that the vodka has worn off and you’re trying to log in to this site you can’t remember for the life of you EVER liking Prince. And if you did, you certainly wouldn’t choose a stupid song lyric for your password but maybe you did and now what was it?

Or because you don't have "cookies" enabled on your browser. No, Explorer doesn't eat Snickerdoodles. No I'm not going to explain how to enable them because you won't understand it. And then when you get your next virus you would blame me because you were the one too stupid not to accept the download for "free screensavrz of lindsey lohan nekkid".

Or because you mistyped when you logged on the first time. Or now. Or always. Learn to type already, idiot.

Or because you cannot spell your own name. Before I started in this business, I thought that was impossible. Sadly, I have been proven wrong many times. This is why the communists are winning. Before you start complaining about how some many jobs are being outsourced, learn to spell. Start with your first name, then move on to more difficult things, like your last name.

Or because you have 5 email addresses and can’t remember which one you used when you first logged on. Streamline your life, Sybil.

Or because you’ve never actually been here but you’re getting such a great sense of déjà vu that you decided to try your old standby username/password combo and IT DOES NOT WORK. I’ll give you a hint: typing the same thing over and over again will not make things magically right again. Asking Mom for a cookie over and over again until she gave in may have worked when you were a child, but this is a computer. And you, presumably, are an adult. Grow up.

It is possible that the error is ours. But not very likely. Stop emailing me. Go away.

November 25, 2007

Playmobil Sets You Won't Find at Target This Christmas


  • King Herod and the Baby Jesus Death Squad

  • Golgotha - Complete with Pre-and-Post Crucified Jesus (small holes in his hands allow him to pop on and off the plastic cross)

  • Christmas Shopping Smackdown - Contains: sharp-elbowed-red-eyed-laser-focus Mommy with lead handbag, bewildered-looking-stand-in-line-Daddy with Circuit City ad, stack of mystery "It-Toy"-of-the-year boxes, plastic credit card statement (in red), and Christmas-morning-unimpressed children

November 24, 2007

Trimming the Tree, XY-Style

And after trimming the tree, we got out the nativity sets. Peter immediately engaged his Playmobil Mary in a swordfight with a Playmobil wiseman. Henry had Playmobil Joseph riding a Jetski. Dave kept introducing the robber into the scene. I finally compromised and had them get out the Roman soldiers and let them be as violent as they wanted because they were working for Herod and wanted to kill Jesus and later did kill Jesus and tried to kill Paul so of course they were bad. But they weren't allowed to slice anyone in the nativity story not even the cow because Mommy said so. The End.

Marauding Christmas Pirates

You just think your tree is safe. Maruading Christmas Pirates


Super Spy Bracelet as Tree Ornament

I was told it was "so the tree could protect itself from the cats"
Super Spy Bracelet as Tree Ornament




He just <em>looks </em>quiet and unassuming...

He just looks quiet and unassuming...

How many times will this adorable
ball of fur
knock down the tree?
Place your bets


Speaking of cats, we are currently taking bets on how many times this one will knock down the tree.


November 23, 2007

Catching Up

I keep wondering about this NaBloPoMo thing: if each of us is trying hard to keep posting every day, how do we have time to read each other's stuff? I have run across some cool people at the NBPM site (Hi Stella, Sweetisu and Mad Goat Lady!) and wish I had time to visit their sites, read their posts, devour their archives...I'm hoping to get back to them and use the NaBloPoMo site as a great place to go back to when I'm done with this month of excessive-filling-the-internet-with-my-own-navel-gazings. Not that I need to add to my blogroll, which currently clocks in at a real-life-precluding 117.

Today, in this wonderful weekend of relaxing and cleaning up after Thanksgiving, getting decorated for Christmas, and designated hanging out time, I caught up on a couple of favorite blogs that I have let build up in the list: Que Sera Sera and A Little Pregnant. Why do I steer away from some of my favorite blogs, yet feel compelled to check some train-wreck-cringe-worthy sites every day? I have no idea. I have a feeling it has to do with the sheer number of blogs I read. Similarly, I will often go a Very Long Time without calling or contacting some of my favorite real-life people. Again, I have no idea why.

I would say, "Hey, leave me a link to your favorite blog in the comments!". However, I'm not sure I could possibly handle another one. Except yours, of course. Yours is awesome.

November 22, 2007

Happy Thanksgiving!

Dave and I at Thanksgiving Dinner

We started the day off with a wonderful thankfulness yoga workshop and ended it with a lovely meal with our family and good friend. I basked in the wonder and glory of the day: beautiful sunshine outside, that bracing make-you-grateful-to-come-indoors cold outside, amazing smells as we cooked and finished preparations. I truly love having Thanksgiving at my house every year and this one was the best yet. I was relaxed and open and was able to truly enjoy my guests. The new space created in our kitchen by taking out the cabinets made for a great environment, especially for an event that revolves around the kitchen. Everyone stayed until 9 which was a delight for me. We are so very richly blessed.

voila!  delicious turkey

delish! super crop golden juicy turkey crop

November 21, 2007

'Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving

Dave stirring the brine
Dave stirring the brine
Brined turkey is awesome!
Brined turkey is fabulous. Ours is sitting in the cooler, awaiting tomorrow's firey fate. Check this entry for the recipe. It appeared in the Seattle Times a few years ago, and is from Chef Greg Atkinson. I would link to his site, but he took the recipe down. I remember reading on his site a few years ago that lots of people had problems with his recipe, and in fact he had to address the recipe again in the Times. I have no idea why. I have used it since the year it appeared and have never had a problem with it (and I used to stress big-time about the bird!). The accompaning Madeira gravy is the most amazing I have ever tasted.

By the way, you can stuff a brined turkey just fine. I worried that it would be too salty, but it isn't at all.

I also updated my Thanksgiving Master List with a recipe for the plain stuffing I make when my brother attends Thanksgiving. I'm not making it this year because Dave's family is of two camps: those who like my fancy fruit-and-nut stuffing, and those who pine for the consistency of Stove Top. So instead of making two scratch stuffings this year, I'm making the fancy one and Velma (my amazing mother-in-law) is bringing the Stove Top. I'm glad I asked - this makes so much less work for me and now that I know the "plain stuffing" camp would rather have Stove Top I don't feel any guilt.

Have a wonderful holiday, hopefully with those you love!

Peter wants to help, too

November 20, 2007

Thanksgiving Menu and Rituals

I love having Thanksgiving at my house. When Dave and I bought our current house, it was important to us to find a living room/dining room combination that was all one level and didn't turn a corner so that we could seat all the guests at one table.

I revel in welcoming everyone in with the house full of the smells of the season. A warm and cozy refuge from the cold outside and from the isolation of our regular lives. A wonderful gathering of our family and friends that we hold dear. We are very fortunate to have most of our family here in town. And I am fortunate that these family members seem okay with me hosting Thanksgiving every year. I look forward to it for months.

The first year we hosted, I had never even cooked a turkey before and was scared stiff. In this, our 5th year, we have it down to a wonderful routine. We always have the same menu and the only things that vary are appetizers and what exactly gets delegated to whom. This year the family kindly told me "Enough with the appetizers already" and had me focus on the main meal. I don't know why I love to cook appetizers so much, but I do.

Anyway, we have our menu down to a ritual and have even pretty much settled into the same people bringing the same things. I always do the turkey, stuffing and potatoes. My sister-in-law brings a double batch of the historic (and delicious) family recipe for Creamy Herbed Green Beans. My mother-in-law brings Cranberry Jello salad (and whatever else I ask her to, bless her heart!). My other sister-in-law brings a fresh green salad. And my friend Shona usually brings the delicious pumpkin and apple pies.

In continuing with the recipe theme, here are my favorite recipes for turkey, gravy, stuffing, and mashed potatoes. I also have a master list for all Thanksgiving-related shopping, tasks, and recipes. It's a work in progress and I'll update it as I tweak it.

Whether it be at your house or the house of a loved one (friend or family), may you have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Turkey

18-20lb fresh turkey
Feel free to raise and kill your own, but I order mine from PCC.

Brine

The brine and gravy are amazing recipes from the even-more-amazing Northwest Chef, Greg Atkinson. Since I tried these recipes, I haven't made turkey and gravy any other way.

3 cups kosher salt
3 cups brown sugar
3 T. whole black peppercorns
6 bay leaves
1 gallon boiling water (or water to boil)
1 gallon water
1 bag of ice

Prep the bird:
The day or night before Thanksgiving, wash out a cooler just big enough to hold the bird. Unwrap the turkey, remove the giblets (put in the fridge for tomorrow), and rinse the bird. Put it in the clean cooler.

Make the brine:
Bring the salt, sugar, spices and 1st gallon of water to a boil on the stove. Stir until the sugar and salt are fully dissolved. Turn off the heat and let it steep for 20 minutes. Stir in the cold water. Pour all of it over the turkey in the cooler and add a bag of ice. Add ice packs if necessary to keep the brine cold. Add more water if needed to cover the turkey. Close the lid and go to bed.

---
Next day
---

Stuffing


1, 12 oz. bag (about 9 cups) Grand Central Bakery Rustic Stuffing (or about 9 cups dried cubed bread)
¾ stick (6T.) butter
¾ cup diced onion
¼ cup diced celery
1 T minced fresh parsley (or 2 t. dried)
About 3 leaves chopped fresh sage
1 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
1 teaspoon chopped fresh marjoram
2 cups dried fruit (mixture of Craisins, diced dried apricots, and golden raisins)
1 cup toasted pecans, rough chopped
2 cups + chicken or turkey stock

Place bread cubes in a large mixing bowl. Sauté the onion and celery and parsley in the butter over medium-low heat for about 10 minutes, until the vegetables are very soft but not browned. Add the dried fruit and sauté for an additional 3 minutes. Add 1 cup of the stock, and the sage, thyme, and marjoram, and cook for 3 minutes more.

Pour this mixture over the bread cubes, tossing to combine well. Add salt and pepper to taste and enough stock to make a moist but not wet mixture. Toss in the nuts.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Transfer turkey to a roasting pan. Stuff the turkey if you’re going to (you know you want to). Try your best to truss it without looking like a HomeEc drop-out.
Get the bird in the oven (figure 4 ½ hours but check OCD-like every 10 minutes after 3 ½ hours)
Throw out the brine. Wipe down cooler thoroughly with antibacterial stuff. Also wipe down the ice packs, if you used them. Start the giblet broth for the gravy.

Giblet broth for gravy

you'll never wonder why that crazy bag of innards is for again Reserved giblets
1 carrot, sliced
1 medium onion, peeled and sliced
2 stalks celery, sliced

Simmer in a saucepan with 6 cups of water for 3 hours (while the turkey roasts). Add more water if needed to keep the giblets covered. You should end up with about 4 cups of broth. Save the turkey broth for the gravy.


Potatoes


6 lbs Klondike Rose potatoes (or 3 pounds small yukon golds and 3 pounds small red potatoes)
1 ½ sticks butter
1- 1 ¼ cup sour cream
Salt pepper

Wash potatoes thoroughly. Do not peel (You love this recipe already, don't you!). Chop into halves or quarters, depending on the size of your potatoes and how long you want to cook them. Place them in a very large pot, cover with water and turn on high. (You can hold the potatoes in the water with the heat OFF for a couple hours if you need to). When they come to a boil, turn the heat down. Simmer until they are very easily pierced with a fork (30 minutes +). Drain. Return to pot (turn off heat). Add butter and sour cream; let melt a little, then mash all with a hand-held masher. Add salt and pepper to taste. Cover pot and let sit until you need to. If you need to warm them, add a bit of milk or butter and heat over low heat, stirring very frequently. Transfer to a bowl and put on the table.

Remove Turkey from the oven and put on a platter or cutting board. Let sit for 20 minutes before carving. While it’s resting, finish the gravy:

Gravy

4 cups giblet stock, strained (see above)
1 cup Madeira wine
3 T. cornstarch, dissolved in 3 T of water

Pour the Madeira into the roasting pan and put it on the stove, swirling it around to free up any flavorful bits of turkey clinging to the pan. [This is called deglazing]. Add the strained stock and stir to blend.

Strain back into the saucepan the stock was in and bring to a full, rolling boil. Whisk in the cornstarch slurry and boil for at least 1 minute. Serve hot with the turkey.

November 19, 2007

Caramelized Onion and Blue Cheese Dip

I seem to be posting a lot of recipes this month. Sadly, I am no Deb Perelman. She is fabulous enough for at least two people and I love her blog and her amazing photographs. I tried to take photographs of my recipe. I took a couple of the process that were unappetizing at best and confusing at worst and then completely forgot to take photos of the finished product because I suck at this sort of thing.

But, let's say you've been invited to Thanksgiving dinner and it's your task to bring an appetizer. Have I got a winner for you! I made it up myself (take that as a recommendation, or as a warning) and based it on my deep and abiding passion for caramelized onions. Dave and I probably ate 50 pounds of caramelized onions between us this summer. Living in the land of Walla Walla sweets, it would be a crime if you didn't base at least one entire summer meal around this glorious root. I cooked many a bratwurst just to have the excuse to caramelize the onions to go with it. Since summer has given way to fall and it's now cold outside, the dip needs to be hot, and also (of course) needs pecans. Well, in my opinion anyway. Recipe is below, and also as a downloadable pdf or Word doc.


Caramelized Onion and Blue Cheese Dip

2 medium-ish sweet onions, very thinly sliced
Butter – start with 2 T, but you’ll probably use more
2 bricks (16 oz total) cream cheese
1 cup mayo
8 oz. blue cheese, crumbled
1 ½ -ish cups pecans, toasted and rough-chopped

Caramelize onions in butter on stovetop in a heavy skillet (sauté first on med, then turn down to med-low and cover, stirring occasionally until onions are deep brown and reduced to about 1/5th their original size- about 20 minutes. You may need to add additional butter throughout the process).
Toast pecans in a heavy skillet or saucepan with a bit of butter – stir occasionally until the pecans start to smell nutty and golden (yes, “golden” is a smell for me). This takes about 10 min at med heat. You can do it in the oven, but I always forget and burn them. If you do it on the stove, you’ll smell when they’re done. Cool slightly, then chop roughly (leave big pieces).
Whip cream cheese with mixer until fluffy. Add mayo and mix until smooth.
Add pecans, blue cheese, and caramelized onions – stir BY HAND to blend.
Bake about 30 minutes at 400 or until browned on top and hot and bubbly.
Serve with 2 baguettes-worth of bread slices (toasted or not)


November 18, 2007

Opening Up

In his (wonderful) guest post, Dave called me She Who Must Be Obeyed. Hmmm. He definitely listens to me, supports me, cherishes me, and loves me. But obeys me? Not so much. When it comes to House Projects, I become She Who Must Be Ignored.

But this weekend, Dave came through. For a long time, I had wanted the center cabinets in our kitchen removed to open up the space. They bifurcated the kitchen, making it difficult for us to talk to our guests, and forcing them to clump up in the doorway, or lean sideways in order to talk with me as I finished up in the kitchen.

No more leaning and clumping! Just in time for Thanksgiving, I present: the Smiths' Open Kitchen.

ta da!

Yes, we have a giant hole in our ceiling. Yes, we are crazy to do a major house project the weekend before we host 14 people for Thanksgiving dinner at our house. But I'm so excited! When our guests arrive on Thursday, we'll be able to talk and hang out. Maybe they'll even sit at our ktichen table and chat before dinner instead of clumping awkwardly in our doorway.

November 17, 2007

Vodka Pie Crust?

Surely it was made with me in mind! So today I point you to one of my all-time favorite blogs: Smitten Kitchen. Her latest entry is Pie Crust 101 with her new favorite: Vodka Pie Crust. I can't wait to try it.

Good Thing I Don't Believe in Karma

I got out of my wonderful three-hour yoga workshop today and found.....a parking ticket on my car. If I thought the universe was trying to tell me something I'd be pretty confused. Or pissed off.

November 16, 2007

Meanderings and a Cranberry Margarita

So I spent the day doing my Chinese homework. The homework that I just stared at as very very little sunk in. Sigh. Later, I got to hang out with Shona and Jen and the rest of my bookclub as we discussed The Thirteenth Tale. Well, to say we discussed the book is perhaps a bit generous. We actually discussed a great variety of things, some of which were actually inspired by the book.

I came home and realized I had just a few minutes to record my Chinese dialogue and email it to my professor. I had to keep stopping, rewinding and re-recording because my cat was sitting on the back of my chair coughing up a lung. My Chinese pronunciation is so bad, I can only imagine what my professor would think of it when augmented by scary hacking noises.

So instead of writing something interesting, or delving into some of the stories I want to tell, I'll give you another cocktail recipe. A "thanks" if you will, for suffering through this NaBloPoMo and reading all the junk mixed in with the moderately-good stuff. (A friend at bookgroup said "You actually EDIT some of your blog posts? You spend time drafting them?!" Um, apparently not enough time...)

Ooh - and that reminds me: Monica of my bookgroup is doing the REAL NaNoWriMo! Go Monica, go! She is right on target and sounds like she's having a great time with a topic that she's been researching (!) and planning (!) for. You probably wish I'd spend a bit of time researching and planning. Sorry - not tonight.

In celebration of the season, here is my friend Heidi's Cranberry Margarita recipe. It is just not Thanksgiving with her family without it. And by the way, I'm having Thanksgiving at my house and am looking for a good autumny cocktail I can serve in a fix-and-forget-pitcher fashion. Any ideas?

Cranberry Margarita

1 + ¼ c. cranberry juice, divided
½ c. + 3 T. sugar, divided
1 ½ c. fresh or frozen cranberries, rinsed
¾ c. lime juice
¾ c. tequila
½ c. orange flavored liqueur (Cointreau, triple sec, or Grand Marnier)
3 c. coarsely crushed ice

Pour 1/4 c. cranberry juice in a shallow bowl. Put 3T. sugar on a flat plate. Dip glasses in juice, then sugar to coat the rims.
Blend everything else (in 2 batches).

November 15, 2007

Outlier

Bell Curve
Bell Curve
Bell curve of normal distribution
from vlasta2's photostream
In most of my medical interactions, I am the patient that makes the doctors scratch their heads. My conditions are never straightforward, easily remedied or textbook cases. (Well, I did have a bout of plantar’s warts that ended up being close to a textbook case: it was so unusual and the treatment that my podiatrist ended up using was so experimental that he published an article on it.)

In statistical circles, I am called an outlier. When you look at a bell curve, nearly all the data is clumped toward the middle. There are a few data points far out at each end where the curve flattens. Those random data points are outliers. Those points are me. (Funny side note: a friend told me tonight that when her mom went back to school as an adult and studied statistics, she assumed “outlier” was a fancy French term and pronounced it “oot-lee-ay”.)

I have another friend with similar outlier tendencies. She walks in and tells the doctors “When you hear hooves, don’t think ‘horses’ - think ‘zebras’.” It took me a while to get it and then I laughed. Yes, most people would think that the sound of hooves meant horses approaching - not a herd of zebras. But with me, zebras are what you will get.

My friends are familiar with this phenomenon of mine. In fact, when I had my Lap-Band surgery, my friend Jen was pleasantly amazed that everything went so well. “Don’t take this wrong”, she said, “but with you, if anything can go weird, it usually will”. I was quite surprised myself. (Of course, I am apparently an outlier when it comes to the insurance end of the process, but that’s another story).

In researching a link for this post about outliers, I ran across this explanation: “An outlier is an observation that lies outside the overall pattern of a distribution. Usually, the presence of an outlier indicates some sort of problem. This can be a case which does not fit the model under study, or an error in measurement.” (emphasis mine)

So many of my medical issues “indicate some sort of problem” and are “cases which do not fit the model under study”. This is why it is so long and plodding with me – why there are so many false starts and hills climbed that end up not being very helpful.

This post started as something else and then morphed into this general observation. I have no little bon mot to close with, no tidy ending, no funny coda. I guess it’s fitting that this entry is an outlier, too.

November 13, 2007

Tales of Wonder

Dave Smith wonder-husband here. She who must be obeyed is recovering from the slingshot effects of her latest concoction, the Singapore Sling. But from her debilitated state, lying lifeless on the sofa she was able to utter the words, "I have idea! You post my blog entry for the day."

Every once in awhile I think of something fun and edifying I could post in a blog, but then I end up spending the time searching for the perfect open source content management system. See that's where me and SWMBO differ. She's all about content and making stuff look nice. I like how things get stored in the database and passed through the framework to be displayed on the page. She just wants stuff to work. Psh! Whatever!

I turn 38 tomorrow; that's about 500 in computer years. Thirty eight! That's just two years away from 40. I know some of you are closer than I and for some of you it's long past the horizon in your rear view mirror. But it seems so odd to be at 40 minus 2. Does anyone actually feel their age? I look down at myself and yes it's a little flabbier, a little paunchier, but inside I feel mid-twenties. How can I be this close to 40?

I've never had a lot of goals in my life. I've been quite content to share in SWMBO's goals. In a way not setting those goals makes it easier to be here. If you have no expectations, you can't really be disappointed, can you? My best friend from college wanted to make a million dollars by the age of 30 and I think he made it. Another friend wanted to run a marathon and he did it. Another rides his bicycle around Mt. Rainier in a day and another is preparing to take over the family business. My ambition doesn't work that way.

I move day to day living in the moment. I come to a weekend and I forget all the projects I'm supposed to be doing. I look forward to the next delivery from Netflix and folding the laundry into mysterious stacks. I love technology. I love tinkering on Linux machines and getting an old machine to run some new piece of software. Most of all I love my family. They are my joy. I can forgo the trappings of the elite if it means making pancakes and sausage for my boys, or giving SWMBO some time to write or read. My lack of planning frustrates her, but my idle presence is there and available to her. While I am not moving and making things happen, I am here where God wants me to be, serving the family I love.

November 11, 2007

Singapore Sling

So, tonight was the second-of-three birthday celebrations for my husband - and this one involved serving 13 people dinner at my house. I wanted to tell you all about the funny story of being totally dissed at a local bar, but that will have to wait. I spent an hour cleaning up from hosting the party, then another 45 minutes doing relaxing yoga breathing exercises and guided imagery with my anxiety-ridden older child, followed by 20 minutes of rocking and soothing my cake-jacked younger child (after him toggling between crying and laughing for 2 hours). It's 11:33 pm and I'm exhausted.

Oh yeah, and I'm also tipsy. I'm about to down another one of these lovely cocktails, but I'll post the recipe while I can still see (mostly) straight. I have a new fascination with "vintage/classic" cocktails (which, interestingly enough, led to my choice of the bar where we were royally and fantastically disdained) and the Singapore Sling is my latest foray into this ancient mixology. Holy cow they are good. So good, in fact, that I want to hurry and post this so I can down another one and then crawl into bed.

Special props to my friend Shona for giving me this amazing book for Christmas last year. It is quite simply the best book on cocktails ever. It is much more than recipes - it is history, chemistry, allure and a splash of ego. It's a great read and a fabulous resource. And, the recipes ARE amazing.

Singapore Sling

original recipe created in 1915 by Ngiam Tang Boon for the Raffles Hotel in Singapore
this version is from Dale Degroff's The Craft of the Cocktail
Use the "cups" to make a pitcher-ful, or the "ounces" to make a single drink. You know you want to make the pitcher!
1 1/2 oz/cups gin*
1/2 oz/cup Peter Heering Cheery Heering**
1/4 oz/cup Cointreau
1/4 oz/cup Benedictine***
2 -3 oz/cups pineapple juice
dash (or 6-8 dashes) Angostura bitters****
2 dashes (or 2 T.) grenadine
1/2 oz/cup fresly squeezed lime juice
club soda (optional)
marachino cherries and/or pinapple wedges, for garnish

Combine all ingredients except club soda and garnish in a large pitcher. Serve in highball glasses over crushed ice. Top off each glass with club soda, if desired. Garnish as you feel inspired.


* the best gin in the world is Tanqueray (classic, NOT 10). Well, in my opinion, I mean
**in Washington, the state has a monopoly on liquor, so this is impossible to get without special-ordering a case. I made mine with cheap-o DeKuyper cherry brandy and it was still fabulous. If you can get the real thing, by all means do so! (and let me know how it is!)
*** this is also really really good in eggnog
****available in the grocery store, right next to grenadine. it's a classic ingredient for classic cocktails

November 10, 2007

(Un)Fuzzy Navel Punch

I just returned from a lovely dinner and first-of-three birthday celebrations for my husband. I want to share some recipes with you, but I need to take some pictures. I am a horrible photographer - but still, I like to try. I'm soo tired, and I've already used my extra entry that I had in the can, but I'm committed to this NaBloPoMo thing. So I'll leave you with a great recipe for this upcoming holiday season. It's a punch I made up myself (because I'm so fancy like that), and it always gets rave reviews. Enjoy!

(Un) Fuzzy Navel Punch

1 large can (29 oz.) sliced peaches in heavy syrup, undrained
1 can frozen OJ concentrate
1, 2-liter bottle Sprite or 7-UP
vanilla ice cream and/or orange sherbet

Puree peaches, syrup, and OJ concentrate in blender; pour in bottom of punch bowl. Add about 8 scoops of ice cream (I like 4 scoops each of vanilla ice cream and orange sherbet). Then pour the Sprite over all.
Garnish with slices of orange, if desired.
To make this punch “fuzzy”, add one cup vodka and ½ cup peach schnapps, more or less to taste.

Cheers!

November 08, 2007

Why I Don't Watch Much Television

Peter and I were watching Scooby Doo in Where's My Mummy? and saw Scooby and Shaggy padlock a "zombie" in a sarcophagus during a classic "run from the monster" scene. The tomb is later flooded, and it is discovered that these "zombies" were Velma's friends, helping to scare tomb raiders. I kept thinking - did anyone go find him, did anyone recognize he was missing? Did he die, locked in the tomb, when the whole thing flooded? Just because of a mistake? I started panicking, just a little bit. I had to keep telling myself, "It's only a movie. It's a cartoon, for heaven's sake".

I've had nightmares from commercials for movies. I've had nightmares from commercials for other shows.

Can you imagine what would happen if I watched a Steven King? I could die of anxiety. I'd better stay on the meds, and keep the TV off.

November 07, 2007

My Celebrity Crushes That Make No Sense

We all have our understandable crushes: Clive Owen, Pierce Brosnan, Daniel Craig - the ones that make any girl's heart beat faster. But I have a few celebrity crushes that are, let's say, odd.

  • Alton Brown - How can you resist a man who custom-paints his Kitchen Aid Mixer? The way this man zooms around the kitchen, mixes soup with power tools, and expounds random trivia about the hows and whys of cooking makes me swoon. His smart alec wit is the icing on the perfectly-researched-and-baked cake. He could lay off the Hawaiian shirts, though.
  • The Dad on Caillou - I finally had to pull the plug on this PBS show. Even when Caillou is happy, his voice is whiny and falsely deliberate - the adult* who voices him grates on me and constantly ruins the illusion of the cartoon. And what is with the bald hair? The first time I saw this show, I was sure it was about a child cancer patient. But the dad. Oh my, the dad. His tousled (animated) hair, his ever-present smile.... What charms me most about this man is that he knows the answer to every childhood problem and turns every difficult situation into a loving, teachable moment. I think it's my ovaries that are attracted to this guy, purely in that "I want to have his children" sort of way.**
  • Daniel Radcliffe - I'm embarrassed to say I have a strange attraction to Harry Potter's barely legal alter ego. I was uncomfortable viewing The Order of the Phoenix, as it slowly dawned on me that I was finding Daniel nearly as compelling as Cho did. Does this make me a Mary Kay Letourneau? I hope not. I usually fall for older men (Pierce, Harrison Ford, Sean Connery). I'm going to assume that this crush is just me reliving some of my youth: Harry Daniel looks a lot like my first boyfriend, and what 15-year-old girl doesn't want to be carried off by a magical, adventurous boy who reluctantly saves the world?

*Ok, I know that for a while Caillou was voiced by a teenage girl who died tragically in a car accident. Still, the voice is annoying.
** I just discovered the dad's name is "Boris". Hee hee. How can you take a man named Boris seriously, unless he's got James Bond in his shark tank and one finger on the launch button of a nuclear warhead?

November 06, 2007

This American Experiment

I am always moved to tears at some point on Election Day. Tonight, it was when I left the school after dropping off my and Dave's ballots. We vote absentee, but we had hopes of taking our kids today to show them what it's like to go to a polling station. As in many areas of the country, our county will be going to an all-mail system by next November. I understand the realities behind the decision: so many people vote absentee anyway, it's hard to find polling workers, it's much cheaper..... And the reality for us is that voting by mail is much more convenient. We wanted to bring the kids tonight to show them a tangible symbol of our right to vote as Americans - but the reality was that they were too fried and we were all too tired to pull together a family excursion after dinner. Case in point of why the mail-in ballot truly is more convenient in our modern world.

I remember the first time I showed up and was given a sharpie and a mark-sense ballot instead of a punch card. It was easier to read and conceivably more accurate than punch cards (remember Florida in 2000?), but something was missing. I already bypassed the booths and levers system by virtue of not being born until 1972, but even the folding platforms that held our punch cards had a sort of formality to them - the way we had to slide them in the holder just right, and the satisfying whap the metal-rimmed pages made as we turned them, following the long ballots. A sharpie and a bubble form felt more like the SATs than an election. I used to take my little "cheat sheets" in with me to the booth, guiding me on how to punch my ballot after spending hours researching the various elections. Soon, the voting process will be entirely isolated - instead of just making my cheat sheets at the dining room table, everyone everywhere will be coloring in the circles and licking envelopes. The sound of voting will be the fwop of an envelope landing in a mailbox.

But regardless of how we vote: by mail, by Sharpie, by punch or by lever...or even by show of hands - the important this is that we get to vote. This is what moved me to tears as I stepped back into the parking lot, dodging the other stragglers running in to cast their last-minute votes. We get to be here. It is a regular day. No one bullied me or my family, no one shot at me as I walked up to vote. My vote will be counted - it is not a sham to keep the powerful from losing their station. Each person's vote counts the same: we are each ONE person, ONE vote. It's a miracle, really. A tiny, enormous, wonderful, hope-inspiring miracle.

I am so grateful to have the opportunity. So grateful that this American Experiment works.

November 05, 2007

Apparently, This One Really Is My Fault

Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich with Bites
Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich with Bites
from erandell498's photostream
Both my kids are picky eaters. Peter is pickiest of all - he pretty much just eats pancakes, hamburgers, and protein bars. Sometimes I worry about this, fearing it's all my fault. I watch kids who scarf down shrimp, hummus, and broccoli and stare, mesmerized. Surely there must be a candid camera somewhere - no kid eats like that! But, no - if I ask, the mom is quick to tell me about all the healthy foods she provides and how she firmly ascribes to the theory that kids acquire the tastes they are exposed to...blah...blah...blah. If that were true, then my children would love Thai food, crave Mexican, eat onions in any and every form, and start every dinner request with "more garlic,please". Alas, they do not.

I recently heard the results of a study on picky eaters and guess what? It really is all my fault. BUT, not necessarily for the reasons I feared. It turns out that there is a large genetic component to picky eating: 78% percent.

As Peter Segall from NPR's Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me put it: it's 78% you and 22% your crappy cooking.

The good news is that what many of us have discovered anecdotally is actually true: kids mostly outgrow their pickiness. I ate a peanut butter sandwich (no jelly, mind you) EVERY DAY for lunch until 6th grade, when my mom convinced me to take tuna on Wednesdays. Even in college I was a very picky eater (I even eschewed sweet and sour chicken, calling it "too exotic"). These days, I'm a very adventurous eater: I'll try anything once. And my tastes are very broad. Maybe when he's in his late 20s, Peter will actually eat something I make for him that isn't slathered in ketchup. But then again, maybe not: my dad slathers everything in ketchup (even the Thai food I make), and Peter has approximately 1/4 of his DNA.

November 04, 2007

Chicken Enchilada Soup

Since the weather has truly turned into fall (as evidenced by how many days I have recently grabbed turtlenecks and sweaters out of my closet) my cravings have turned to soup. I’ve dug out all my cookbooks and weblinks and gathered a few new recipes to try. My mom is also having a series of dental surgeries, and I’m planning to bring her a bunch of frozen homemade soups to enjoy during her recoveries, so I'm sure she'll be glad of the variety.

Since it’s NaBloPoMo and all, I’ll share my favorites here. (Such a win-win ). And bonus for all of us: today’s entry lets me spout more random mavinformationTM (this is my new homemade word for “maven information”). (Win-win-win!) Ok, so maybe you're not thrilled about the random trivia part - oh,well.

I love chicken enchilada soup. I nearly always order it if it’s on the menu (Chili’s has such a great one that I hardly know what their entrées taste like – I never get past the soup). My favorite characteristics are the creamy thickness, the spice, bits of tomato, the big chunks of shredded chicken and the cheese, ooh the cheese.

The Chili’s copy-cat recipes on the web all call for Velveeta. I can’t bear to feed my family an entire block of “processed cheese food”, so that was a no-go. Also, I wanted to add some favorite things to it – I figured if I’m going to make it myself, I might as well (it’s my kitchen after all).

So, here’s what I came up with, followed by some mavinformationTM about masa and corn and lime. If you’d like to print the recipe for yourself, I’ve posted it as a Word doc and also as a PDF.

Please leave a comment if you try it – and I’d love any soup recipes (without beef) that you have to share!

Chicken Enchilada Soup

2-3 T. vegetable oil
3 cups diced yellow onion
3 t. ground cumin
2 t. chili powder
½ t. cayenne pepper (omit if you don’t want the heat)
3 cloves garlic, pressed
2 cups masa harina with lime, or instant masa* (NOT regular corn meal)
3 ½-4 quarts chicken broth, divided
1 20 oz can diced tomatoes in juice, undrained
4 cups cooked, shredded chicken
1 can black beans, drained and rinsed
1 cup frozen or fresh white corn (canned doesn’t hold up as well in soup, and white is heartier)
Juice of 3 limes (or more, if your limes are stingy)

Garnishes:
Shredded cheddar and Monterey jack cheese (or pepper jack if you want more kick)
Chopped avocado
Sour cream
Crumbled tortilla chips


Heat oil in a very large stockpot and sauté onions and spices for about 5 minutes, until onions are just soft. Add garlic and sauté for an additional minute.

In a separate bowl, whisk the masa harina into 1 quart of broth until smooth (this will be thick like cream of wheat). Add the masa mix to the onions and bring to a boil. Boil, stirring constantly, for 2-3 minutes (this cooks the bitter taste out of the masa). Add remaining 2 ½ quarts broth to the pot, reserving the last ½ quart in case you need it at the end. Stir in the chicken and the tomatoes with their juice. Simmer for about 5-10 minutes.

Add the beans and corn. Heat until corn is thawed. If soup is too thick, add the remaining broth. Stir in the lime juice.

To serve, sprinkle some cheese in the bottom of a bowl, add soup on stop and stir to combine. Add avocado, sour cream, and tortilla bits as desired. Strangely enough, it's actually still really good without the cheese.


* I had to go to a Mexican tienda to find this. It is NOT regular corn meal. It is tortilla or tamale flour, which is corn flour mixed with lime (the chemical calcium hydroxide, not the citrus fruit). Why lime? Well, now it’s time for some mavinformationTM:

The maize that the ancient Mayans and Aztecs used is not like the super sweet corn we have in America today. (We have developed such a taste for sweetness that even our vegetables/grains/fruits have been bred for this characteristic – today’s corn has 2-4 TIMES the sugar as original corn). Their corn had bigger kernels and was white.
The skins of the kernels were undigestible and the nutrituion from the corn was largely unavailable to the body in this form, causing malnutrition and the disease called pallegra in societies that depended on corn as a main source of food.

The Mayans discovered that by mixing the maize with lime, it started a chemical process that broke down the kernels, making them digestible and also making the niacin in the corn available for the body (this is what prevents pallegra). Fresh maize was mixed with woodash (the residue from cooking fires) and water, cooked for a bit and then left to soak overnight. The lime broke down the skins and they floated to the surface where they were skimmed off. The maize was then drained and ground into a paste. This process is also called nixtamalization. Apparently the nixtamalization is not required when powerful mills are used (such as in industrialized nations), but it is necessary when grinding corn by hand.

How on earth did these ancient peoples figure out that woodash from their cooking fires was the secret to beating malnutrion? THAT I cannot find the answer to. I thought that the first time I read found this information (however many years ago), I learned that corn mixed in a certain place was toxic, but mixed in another was okay to eat. The corn from the edible had lime naturally occurring in it from cave formations dripping into the water and eventually the Mayans figured out the lime water was the secret. However, I can’t find the source of that information, so take it with a grain of salt. Salt is always good on tortillas.

November 02, 2007

I'm Wearing Oprah's Bra

Ok, so not her actual bra, but one that was deemed favorite enough to be given out in a frenzy at one of her shows. It was picked out for me when I finally went for a bra fitting today. I’ve lost enough weight (40ish pounds) that the girls were looking a bit lost in my old bras. The final straw was when Dave asked me why my sweater had a funny crease in it and we determined it had nothing to do with the sweater – it was the crease made by extra folded fabric in my cup due to boob-deflation.

Whenever I go bra shopping, I am reminded why I never go bra shopping. And reminded why, when I do go, that I need to be fitted. I could not pick the right bra off the rack if getting it right would stop a nuclear countdown and save the world from annihilation. A tender slip of a legally-blonde salesgirl measured me (big points for not looking disgusted or backing off from “catching” my overweight-ness), announced “42D” with certainty, and disappeared to get a “test fit” bra. It fit perfectly, but of course is just for “test fitting”. She left me in the sample bra and disappeared (and I do mean disappeared) back on to the sales floor to find bras for me to try on.

While she was gone (a good 10 minutes!), I contemplated boob issues:

  • Why are my areolas so massive? They used to be tiny and demure – not bringing attention to themselves. They don’t gain weight along with the rest of my body, so why have they gotten bigger? Is it the breastfeeding? Theory has it that’s what they’re good for in the first place: guiding the nearly-blind starving infants to the fountain of goodness (or 'trickle of goodness' in my case). But why is this “hey – eat here!” sign not designed to fade after weaning? I don’t need to advertise to the WORLD where the center of my boobs are. The only people who needed the road map are old enough to get the milk out of the refrigerator themselves.
  • My left breast is bigger than my right. So, do you buy a bra to fit the bigger one, or the smaller one? Does it matter?
  • Why do bras cost so much? It’s like swimsuits – the smaller the amount of material, the higher the cost. Bizarre. $60 a bra? Wow.
  • Where on earth did the saleslady go? Is my size freakish? It would figure.
  • I really should plan ahead and wear a white T-shirt to my next fitting.
  • I hope that next fitting is a looooong time from now.
  • For how big my hips (and ass) are, my boobs are tiny. I’m sure I couldn’t fit in Oprah’s actual bra if I wanted to, but I could give her ass a run for its money.
  • No really, how long does grabbing a couple of bras take?
  • How did they manage to do actual bra fittings for an Oprah audience? Think about the logistics of that for just a minute - did they have hoardes of fit specialists? Boxes upon boxes of sizes? I mean, if the whole point of the episode (as the saleslady told me) was to spread the word that most women are wearing the wrong-size bra, and encourage them to get fitted, you couldn't exactly just fling random bras as the audience members, could you?
  • I am very long-waisted, so if I have too much “lift” in my rack, I look freakish. It’s like I have two wayward shoulder pads that migrated just under my collar bone and then nothing for a loooooong way down until my curvy hips burst on to the scene. This makes me harder to fit that in should be. And provides for some comical dressing room moments. (Thankfully the saleslady had a good sense of humor).
She finally re-emerged and after a few more (thankfully shorter) scouting trips to the sales floor, we found 2 bras that fit. The choices are a bit overwhelming. You can get bras with Swarovski crystals....bras with memory foam....bras that call the shop and book a fitting when they're wearing out - just kidding.


I'm glad to have new bras. Most of all, I'm glad to be done with this horrific chore for now.

November 01, 2007

Little Mockingbirds

Scene: in the car, listening to my kids bicker for the fifty thousandth time.

Me (in my most exasperated, threatening, "Do I Need to Pull This Car Over?" tone of voice): If you hit your brother with that stick one more time, I'm going to have to take it away!

3-year-old Peter (in the EXACT SAME TONE OF VOICE): Well if you do that, I'm going to have to cry!