It was painful to turn the calendar to October. November will hurt even more.
I suspect I'm one of those people that falls into the deepest of funks when the winter months arrive. I hate the snow. I hate the cold and more than that I loathe the feeling of being a prisoner in my home.
Oh, sure my son's hockey games and the 'parent meetings' before the puck drops help a little - but one can't really do that every...single....day. (Or shouldn't at least - since it's code for 'have a beer before the game').
I knew I should've learned to ski. I should have embraced snowmobiling at high speeds in below zero temperatures, or at the very least I wish I would have learned to enjoy the feeling of frozen snot on my scarf.
But no sir, not me. None of that happened. My distaste for all of it only settled deeper in my heart at each arrival while I fantasized of becoming a snowbird in my senior years.
But then, my snowbird years are probably still down the road a good chunk and October is already almost half way gone.
But on a bright note I did realized today that I do, however, enjoy winter as a spectator.
I like to watch other people ski. (Ideally with a novel in my lap and a cup of something hot in my hand). I also often jump up to look out of the window and watch as a madcap snowmobiler flies past the driveway at an unsafe speed.
And the pictures we take in the winter - those are admittedly breathtaking. Just beautiful.
There's no denying it. Winter. Is. Pretty. It's mere weeks away.
And that feeling of frozen snot...haven't really found an upside to that yet.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
A bogged down blog
Blogging is hard.
My blogs, for awhile, have been far and few between.
Not because I don't have fantastic ideas about what to blog about because I do. I really do.
But this summer while my mom was sick my heart just wasn't in it.
The options were to blog about dark things and depress everyone else or just stay idle for a little while which is what I did.
But.... I think I'm ready to get back to the life of writing and writing well (or, you know, standard, like I did before). So the plan is to update my blog a little more timely once again. At least weekly and we'll see what kind of excitement pops up that might require a more frequent random post.
It's good to be back.
My blogs, for awhile, have been far and few between.
Not because I don't have fantastic ideas about what to blog about because I do. I really do.
But this summer while my mom was sick my heart just wasn't in it.
The options were to blog about dark things and depress everyone else or just stay idle for a little while which is what I did.
But.... I think I'm ready to get back to the life of writing and writing well (or, you know, standard, like I did before). So the plan is to update my blog a little more timely once again. At least weekly and we'll see what kind of excitement pops up that might require a more frequent random post.
It's good to be back.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Modern fashion meets inappropriate exposure
I owe an apology to another mother somewhere out there
It's not my fault. I can honestly say that.
My daughters try to dress me.
I know I'm too old to do it.
I know I'm too lazy to do it.
But sometimes I do.
In the name of fashion I occasionally don the trendy low rise jeans. The only real annoying thing about them is that they do require hiking up pretty often.
They are actually pretty comfortable though although they don't give me support in the exact place I need it (ahem - a little higher above the waistline of the low rise.)
But other than that - designers I salute you! Nice going.
Oh - except for the fact that the low rise has a tendency to become v-e-r-y low rise.
For instance, say, if you're bending over in the aisle of the local retailer on the bottom shelf for a jug of laundry soap and you feel a cool breeze below your back but above your thighs and there is a possible-nay-probable chance that a boy, say about 10-years old, may have been schooled in what the butt crack of a middle-aged woman might look like.
If that was your son - I'm sorry.
I'd like to say it won't happen again but other 10-year olds consider yourself warned. They were capris and it's summer. They'll be appropriate for another four months.
It's not my fault. I can honestly say that.
My daughters try to dress me.
I know I'm too old to do it.
I know I'm too lazy to do it.
But sometimes I do.
In the name of fashion I occasionally don the trendy low rise jeans. The only real annoying thing about them is that they do require hiking up pretty often.
They are actually pretty comfortable though although they don't give me support in the exact place I need it (ahem - a little higher above the waistline of the low rise.)
But other than that - designers I salute you! Nice going.
Oh - except for the fact that the low rise has a tendency to become v-e-r-y low rise.
For instance, say, if you're bending over in the aisle of the local retailer on the bottom shelf for a jug of laundry soap and you feel a cool breeze below your back but above your thighs and there is a possible-nay-probable chance that a boy, say about 10-years old, may have been schooled in what the butt crack of a middle-aged woman might look like.
If that was your son - I'm sorry.
I'd like to say it won't happen again but other 10-year olds consider yourself warned. They were capris and it's summer. They'll be appropriate for another four months.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
If you never use the stove you never have to clean it
Martha, Rachel, Paula and Giada... I’m not worthy and I don’t pretend to be.
I’m not a cook.
I preheat, reheat and nuke almost everything.
From scratch? I create nothing. Trust me. It's better this way.
It’s not my mom’s fault. She cooked every single day.The closest McDonald's was not only 15 miles away but her cooking was better than anything they would have passed out of a window in a bag at the golden arches. We were the recipients of home cooked meals whether we liked them or not (and some I didn't - Spanish Rice, potato pancakes). I can count on my hands the number or times we went out to eat while I was growing up and I'm aware that it’s a little humiliating my kids' daily language includes the phrases Footlong, Whopper and Big Mac and they're not talking about a day on the lake fishing.
You want to know what killed cooking for me? Thanksgiving, Christmas and other assorted family gatherings. All of the high-pressure-in-the-kitchen events that mean eight hours worth of cooking followed by 20 minutes of eating and three hours of clean up.
Well, that and the nightly exchange while my kids were growing up of:
Kid 1, “What’s for dinner?”
Me, “_____________,” (anything other than pizza)
Kid 1, “Ick.
Kid 2, “Gross.”
Kid 3, ”I’m not hungry.”
Hubby , “I had that for lunch.”
The good news is just because I don’t particularly like to cook doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy purchasing things to do it with. I definitely like to look like I like to cook – because so many of my friends actually do. If there’s a Pampered Chef party within 50 miles I’ll be there. The kitchen supply area of my local retailers? Love it… almost as much as jewelry department.
I like pots and pans and cookie sheets; baking stones, cool looking cutlery and anything else you can stir, whip and blend with. I am also a fan of gadgets that need an outlet to operate. I like my electric knife, my electric can opener, and my waffle maker. I do have illusions of grandeur and fantasize about setting a table with a spread
made for a king. And should I ever be in the mood to do so I like to have all of the necessary equipment to accomplish that.
Thanks to my many novelty cooking accessories I can core an apple in two seconds, create a beautiful colored sugar display on the top of a cake and press a cookie into more than a dozen decorative shapes. I have a tool to make rosettes and one to bake bread in the shape of a flower. I can make homemade beef jerky, chop coffee beans and create a vat of homemade salsa in 12 minutes flat.
And someday I just might feel like doing some of that.
I actually give the illusion that a real cook might live in my home. I have a steamer and a counter top grill and a food processor. In my kitchen hangs a sign that says Bon appetite. Enjoy your meal! HAH!
But I'm an imposter in a lot of areas. I also own a lot of wine glasses but I’m more of a beer drinker.
My grandmothers used to be able to whip out hot main dishes, salads and desserts for three dozen people without even breaking a sweat. A Sunday afternoon found hot food for dozens without so much as a trip to the gas station for sour cream. It boggles the mind.
A few years ago I joined a dinner group with some friends. I thought I might pick up some tips and possibly form a real interest in creating fine cuisine. Plus, my husband was impressed and it sounded pretty cool to say, "Oh, I can't. I have dinner group tonight.".
I think I pulled off a pretty good acting job and I managed to stay under the group’s radar for quite a while. No one threatened to out me if I didn’t start pulling my own weight and initially they were kind enough to put the new girl on wine and bread detail. I tried to offer witty dinner conversation to make up for my lack of edible contributions and the first few months they praised my bread and wine selections and it was enough. After a while though I was asked to prepare real dishes. I crammed with the Food Network. I watched the ladies and gents who haphazardly tossed ingredients into cookware with nary a care. Then it occurred to me why these people liked cooking. A) Awesome kitchens, every one. Magnificent refrigerators and ovens and stoves with not one item still cooked on them from the last use because B) They never clean up. I think I could be in the mood to cook fabulous multi-coursed dinners every night too if a crew came behind me and mopped, wiped and scoured everything I touched. Also how cool if my ingredients were already miraculously pre-measured in cute little bowls and an example of my creation already made and ready in the oven!
Some of my dinner group assignments had ingredients I’ve never even heard of and required visits to markets I’d never been to. How did I know File Powder wasn’t pronounced the way it’s spelled? (Feel-ay?? Really? Sorry. Kraft doesn't make that.) My desserts that were supposed to raise didn’t and the things that were supposed to melt in your mouth stayed firm and required being spit into a napkin. They never really asked me to leave but I started to get the feeling that witty dinner conversation might not be enough.
At least I try to please. The first month I was married I made pork chops and vegetables for the hubby. I remembered he didn’t like cooked carrots and when I realized the only frozen vegetables we had were mixed I picked out every … single… carrot. Love or ludicrous?
I do think it's important for everyone to have a specialty - even the inept. A go-to recipe to be prepared in a pinch. I make a fair tasting goulash. That is mine. And the other litte secret weapon in my back pocket? Cheese. There’s a gourmet dish at my house we call chips and cheese. And almost everybody loves cheese and crackers. And a cheese ball? Yes! You can slice cheese, melt cheese, and cut it into squares. Sigh. The perfect food.
The good news is I suspect that I’m not the only lazy cook in America. Convenience foods are becoming even more….well, convenient …and there are happily more shortcuts out there than ever. You can buy garlic already diced. Dinner salads in bags already made and frozen vegetables all cut up and in the bags for steaming. I’m surprised I didn’t invent them.
Luckily for me my husband does like to cook and so all of those nifty things that I’ve purchased to look like I know what I’m doing actually do get used. He makes homemade soups. He smokes and grills delectable meats and he sautés and marinates them ahead of time. I’m a lucky, lucky girl. And so we both use our strengths … I set the table in an eye-pleasing manner, open something cold from the basement fridge with a really cool bottle opener, set out some napkins and he does the cooking.
Now, where do I find one of those clean-up crews?
I’m not a cook.
I preheat, reheat and nuke almost everything.
From scratch? I create nothing. Trust me. It's better this way.
It’s not my mom’s fault. She cooked every single day.The closest McDonald's was not only 15 miles away but her cooking was better than anything they would have passed out of a window in a bag at the golden arches. We were the recipients of home cooked meals whether we liked them or not (and some I didn't - Spanish Rice, potato pancakes). I can count on my hands the number or times we went out to eat while I was growing up and I'm aware that it’s a little humiliating my kids' daily language includes the phrases Footlong, Whopper and Big Mac and they're not talking about a day on the lake fishing.
You want to know what killed cooking for me? Thanksgiving, Christmas and other assorted family gatherings. All of the high-pressure-in-the-kitchen events that mean eight hours worth of cooking followed by 20 minutes of eating and three hours of clean up.
Well, that and the nightly exchange while my kids were growing up of:
Kid 1, “What’s for dinner?”
Me, “_____________,” (anything other than pizza)
Kid 1, “Ick.
Kid 2, “Gross.”
Kid 3, ”I’m not hungry.”
Hubby , “I had that for lunch.”
The good news is just because I don’t particularly like to cook doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy purchasing things to do it with. I definitely like to look like I like to cook – because so many of my friends actually do. If there’s a Pampered Chef party within 50 miles I’ll be there. The kitchen supply area of my local retailers? Love it… almost as much as jewelry department.
I like pots and pans and cookie sheets; baking stones, cool looking cutlery and anything else you can stir, whip and blend with. I am also a fan of gadgets that need an outlet to operate. I like my electric knife, my electric can opener, and my waffle maker. I do have illusions of grandeur and fantasize about setting a table with a spread
made for a king. And should I ever be in the mood to do so I like to have all of the necessary equipment to accomplish that.
Thanks to my many novelty cooking accessories I can core an apple in two seconds, create a beautiful colored sugar display on the top of a cake and press a cookie into more than a dozen decorative shapes. I have a tool to make rosettes and one to bake bread in the shape of a flower. I can make homemade beef jerky, chop coffee beans and create a vat of homemade salsa in 12 minutes flat.
And someday I just might feel like doing some of that.
I actually give the illusion that a real cook might live in my home. I have a steamer and a counter top grill and a food processor. In my kitchen hangs a sign that says Bon appetite. Enjoy your meal! HAH!
But I'm an imposter in a lot of areas. I also own a lot of wine glasses but I’m more of a beer drinker.
My grandmothers used to be able to whip out hot main dishes, salads and desserts for three dozen people without even breaking a sweat. A Sunday afternoon found hot food for dozens without so much as a trip to the gas station for sour cream. It boggles the mind.
A few years ago I joined a dinner group with some friends. I thought I might pick up some tips and possibly form a real interest in creating fine cuisine. Plus, my husband was impressed and it sounded pretty cool to say, "Oh, I can't. I have dinner group tonight.".
I think I pulled off a pretty good acting job and I managed to stay under the group’s radar for quite a while. No one threatened to out me if I didn’t start pulling my own weight and initially they were kind enough to put the new girl on wine and bread detail. I tried to offer witty dinner conversation to make up for my lack of edible contributions and the first few months they praised my bread and wine selections and it was enough. After a while though I was asked to prepare real dishes. I crammed with the Food Network. I watched the ladies and gents who haphazardly tossed ingredients into cookware with nary a care. Then it occurred to me why these people liked cooking. A) Awesome kitchens, every one. Magnificent refrigerators and ovens and stoves with not one item still cooked on them from the last use because B) They never clean up. I think I could be in the mood to cook fabulous multi-coursed dinners every night too if a crew came behind me and mopped, wiped and scoured everything I touched. Also how cool if my ingredients were already miraculously pre-measured in cute little bowls and an example of my creation already made and ready in the oven!
Some of my dinner group assignments had ingredients I’ve never even heard of and required visits to markets I’d never been to. How did I know File Powder wasn’t pronounced the way it’s spelled? (Feel-ay?? Really? Sorry. Kraft doesn't make that.) My desserts that were supposed to raise didn’t and the things that were supposed to melt in your mouth stayed firm and required being spit into a napkin. They never really asked me to leave but I started to get the feeling that witty dinner conversation might not be enough.
At least I try to please. The first month I was married I made pork chops and vegetables for the hubby. I remembered he didn’t like cooked carrots and when I realized the only frozen vegetables we had were mixed I picked out every … single… carrot. Love or ludicrous?
I do think it's important for everyone to have a specialty - even the inept. A go-to recipe to be prepared in a pinch. I make a fair tasting goulash. That is mine. And the other litte secret weapon in my back pocket? Cheese. There’s a gourmet dish at my house we call chips and cheese. And almost everybody loves cheese and crackers. And a cheese ball? Yes! You can slice cheese, melt cheese, and cut it into squares. Sigh. The perfect food.
The good news is I suspect that I’m not the only lazy cook in America. Convenience foods are becoming even more….well, convenient …and there are happily more shortcuts out there than ever. You can buy garlic already diced. Dinner salads in bags already made and frozen vegetables all cut up and in the bags for steaming. I’m surprised I didn’t invent them.
Luckily for me my husband does like to cook and so all of those nifty things that I’ve purchased to look like I know what I’m doing actually do get used. He makes homemade soups. He smokes and grills delectable meats and he sautés and marinates them ahead of time. I’m a lucky, lucky girl. And so we both use our strengths … I set the table in an eye-pleasing manner, open something cold from the basement fridge with a really cool bottle opener, set out some napkins and he does the cooking.
Now, where do I find one of those clean-up crews?
Friday, February 11, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Hear me roar
I'm currently on day six of having no voice, hacking like a goose and living on the sofa under my electric blanket. (BEST invention ever...after the heated car seat.)
Not sure if I should just chalk it up to cold and flu season or if I've just been gifted my own special form of bug that was designed to cut me off at the knees and hit me where it hurts the most - my voice.
Anything but the voice. I would bargain away a couple of fingers to only have my voice back (I know...careful what I wish for. But I'm not wishing for it - just saying it would be easier to work around.)
Speaking of -
It's not quite the situation for someone to be in that does a great deal of business on the telephone. Whether it's scheduling interviews, doing interviews or just trying to communicate with my daughters away at college or my daily phone call to my mother it's been a pain in the neck to not be able to speak.
Kirk...well he's doing just fine with my not speaking. In fact - Happy early Valentines Day to him.
Not sure if I should just chalk it up to cold and flu season or if I've just been gifted my own special form of bug that was designed to cut me off at the knees and hit me where it hurts the most - my voice.
Anything but the voice. I would bargain away a couple of fingers to only have my voice back (I know...careful what I wish for. But I'm not wishing for it - just saying it would be easier to work around.)
Speaking of -
It's not quite the situation for someone to be in that does a great deal of business on the telephone. Whether it's scheduling interviews, doing interviews or just trying to communicate with my daughters away at college or my daily phone call to my mother it's been a pain in the neck to not be able to speak.
Kirk...well he's doing just fine with my not speaking. In fact - Happy early Valentines Day to him.
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