I wrote this awhile ago. Just after our first cold snap, if that gives you a time frame. It doesn't me because I can't remember what I had for lunch day before yesterday. At the time, I don't know, it didn't fit my mood, match my outfit, whatever. But I reread it and if feels a little like New Year's thinking so I'm going to throw it up there. And get it out of the draft file. I dislike the draft file. No closure there. Unfinished bidness. I like to cross things off my list man!
Have a great, fabulous, wonderful, New Year's Eve!!!! However you define that. Go out, stay in or maybe like my family...zigzag your neighborhood street in below freezing weather for a progressive dinner to be followed by one of my favorite things...a white elephant gift exchange! I love my neighbors!!!!!
xoxo
~S
Replaced your heater's filter lately? Me neither. But we should. It got good and cold last night and this morning I had the pleasure of flipping the thermostat to heat. Ahhh. It felt good. Real good. Tomorrow's high? 56.
But that's not really the filter I'm talking about. I'm talking about your personal filter. Do you have one? Should you? Could you? Would you? Last week I was reading a friend of a friend's blog...and she was lamenting the lack of filter on the current generation. It's one of her big ick's about facebook. And blogs. Although she has a blog. I think she has a point, though. Of course, I have never had much of a filter. If you know me, you know. I wear my life pretty publicly. I always had up until I hit around 40. Something about that age made me think I should evaluate, reconsider, shake things up a bit. I sent my good friend Lisa a list of things not to be done after 40. Like wearing t-shirts with writing.
I also began to try to be discreet. That was my code word. Discreet = elegant, mysterious, reserved, graceful. Problem with that? I'm just not. My husband, however, is the epitome of discreet. It's in his nature. He couldn't wear his heart on his sleeve if he tried. And I can't not wear mine on my sleeve.
You know what I ended up with, in this effort to age gracefully? A big, fat, compartmentalized life. Ugh. I just can't do it. And I don't want to. A few months ago, I got out a box cutter and went to town. All my life I have been blessed with exceptional friends who love me, come what may. All discreet and compartmentalized? Not so much. Sure a couple have emerged. People who stuck. But for the most part?...nah. Once the other parts of me seeped into the box they were comfortable in...they were out. That's okay. I've learned. Maybe they have too. I don't know. We don't talk too much anymore.
But I know who I am, and so do you. If you're still here...wow! You rock. If you can't handle the redhead, don't let the door hit ya'. No malice. It's just that I don't have the inclination to worry about it. And so is the friend of a friend right about the lack of filter being a problem? A threat to civil society as we know it? I don't think so. I think that fb and blogs are pretty much about the person writing them. It's the nature of the beast. Whether you spend your time in their world - is about you and your own personal filter. Take some responsibility. Only invite into your life that which blesses you. If it doesn't fit, don't wear it. Should we have filters? Sure. Filter what you decide to spend time and energy on. Don't be so worried about what someone else is doing.
And family secrets? I'm not a fan. I grew up with a few doozies. Let's just say revisiting and re-evaluating your childhood as an adult armed with formerly withheld information...not so much fun. But because I do have a bit of a filter, there's no need to air all the dirty laundry.
Just don't wear t-shirts with writing on them past 40.
xoxo
~S
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Holiday Hangover Cure
Did you have one? I did. My annual holiday hangover. No, I am not talking about having been over served 1 too many stiff eggnogs, nor am I talking about that squishy part of you that might be hanging over your jeans today. I'm talking about that anticlimactic, restless feeling that follows Christmas for me. Every year. Without fail. What to do about it?
Well, first you need to know where you carry your posttraumatic holiday stress. Because you need to purge it. I carry mine in a series of knots lodged directly under my right shoulder blade. I found this out when, on our honeymoon cruise, the therapist, as she ran her thumb along them counting them out loud (there were 8), said...Wow, you must be really stressed out. Huh? All I'd done is finish my last semester of college, gotten married, and started writing my resume. In a 2 month time span. That's all. I just thought I was busy. But apparently all that joyful change...can knot me up like a pretzel. Even when I'm having fun.
So now when I wake up and realize my right hand is pretty much numb, I know those knots have taken over and it is time to work them out. Which is precisely what started happening about 3 or 4 days ago. You know, right after Christmas. These days, since as a mother of 3, I perpetually have more to do than hours in the day, it happens a lot. And so I am the proud owner one of those beige shiatsu massage pillows. You know, one of those things that look like it's going to smell like Bengay because it belongs to an 80 year old man? For the past few mornings I have spent hours with that miracle working pillow massaging out my knots and doing productive things like watching the entire season of The Last American Cowboy and Tabatha's Salon Takeover. Pure relief.
But watching all that hard, efficient, ranch work, made even slacker me feel a little lazy today. And my knots seemed to be gone so I couldn't really call lounging around all day with my shiatsu pillow productive. And you know, the New Year is day after tomorrow. It's time for Change. Rejuvenation. Resolution. Don't worry I haven't gone all Type A on you. If you haven't bailed yet, first, thank you. Second, keep reading and learn the secret of successful slacker productivity.
People call me many things, but overly organized and structured are usually not among them. I'm selectively organized. Which is really code for being L.A.Z.Y. As in I detest, with every fiber of my being, to look for things. It's why I never, ever, put my keys anywhere besides right in their little dish by the front door. If I have to look for them when it's time to leave, the jig is up. I'll be the one plopped on the sofa, content, deciding I didn't really need to leave my house that day. And please never ask me to help you find something. It will wreck our friendship. I will start out appearing to be really hunting for your very important lost thing. And then, 47 seconds in, I will make some excuse about needing my glasses that are in my car. And I'll drive home. Because I probably have a new episode of Tabatha's Salon Takeover waiting on my DVR. And I need to watch it and work out that stress knot that developed when I agreed to help you find something. But I digress.
I decided that among other things (like it being prosperous), I would like 2011 to be more selectively organized. There were a couple of things nagging at me. First, I have had to look for my BlackBerry about 25 times in the last week and it is beginning to really bug me. Second, I really wanted to get rid of the basket by our phone that sits on my breakfast bar taking up more than its fair share of space. The problem is that it houses important essentials like pens, pencils, scissors, my life sustaining post-it notes and a calculator. It also accumulated things like bits of paper, shock pens purchased by my boys at the fair in September and random buttons. The logical solution to this is that all that stuff in the basket could really be housed in what was currently the junk drawer in the kitchen. And my BlackBerry could live right by the phone. Even I can remember that.
Well, junk drawer no more! I bought a little organizer thing at Target (I even measured the drawer before I left - who says I can't learn something from my past mistakes), and emptied the junk drawer of its junk and replaced it with sweet, beautiful, organization. Can you hear the rejoicing? Imagine that I found such treasures as an expired coupon from 2006 for fresh meat at Albertsons, 23 cents in nickels, dimes and pennies, all 13 lost mailbox keys that I refused to look for in '03 and paid the post office to replace the lock on our mailbox with a new one, and 10 rulers. Why we need 10 rulers, I don't know.
And so I am done. My New Year's Resolution is complete. I don't have do anything more. So the secret to successful slacker productivity? Be vague. Be very vague. I only said I wanted to be more selectively organized. No specifics, no quantification. And so now, with one drawer, I can lounge around for the entire 2011 year. Unless the BlackBerry thing doesn't work out.
Happy Slacker New Year!
~S
Well, first you need to know where you carry your post
So now when I wake up and realize my right hand is pretty much numb, I know those knots have taken over and it is time to work them out. Which is precisely what started happening about 3 or 4 days ago. You know, right after Christmas. These days, since as a mother of 3, I perpetually have more to do than hours in the day, it happens a lot. And so I am the proud owner one of those beige shiatsu massage pillows. You know, one of those things that look like it's going to smell like Bengay because it belongs to an 80 year old man? For the past few mornings I have spent hours with that miracle working pillow massaging out my knots and doing productive things like watching the entire season of The Last American Cowboy and Tabatha's Salon Takeover. Pure relief.
But watching all that hard, efficient, ranch work, made even slacker me feel a little lazy today. And my knots seemed to be gone so I couldn't really call lounging around all day with my shiatsu pillow productive. And you know, the New Year is day after tomorrow. It's time for Change. Rejuvenation. Resolution. Don't worry I haven't gone all Type A on you. If you haven't bailed yet, first, thank you. Second, keep reading and learn the secret of successful slacker productivity.
People call me many things, but overly organized and structured are usually not among them. I'm selectively organized. Which is really code for being L.A.Z.Y. As in I detest, with every fiber of my being, to look for things. It's why I never, ever, put my keys anywhere besides right in their little dish by the front door. If I have to look for them when it's time to leave, the jig is up. I'll be the one plopped on the sofa, content, deciding I didn't really need to leave my house that day. And please never ask me to help you find something. It will wreck our friendship. I will start out appearing to be really hunting for your very important lost thing. And then, 47 seconds in, I will make some excuse about needing my glasses that are in my car. And I'll drive home. Because I probably have a new episode of Tabatha's Salon Takeover waiting on my DVR. And I need to watch it and work out that stress knot that developed when I agreed to help you find something. But I digress.
I decided that among other things (like it being prosperous), I would like 2011 to be more selectively organized. There were a couple of things nagging at me. First, I have had to look for my BlackBerry about 25 times in the last week and it is beginning to really bug me. Second, I really wanted to get rid of the basket by our phone that sits on my breakfast bar taking up more than its fair share of space. The problem is that it houses important essentials like pens, pencils, scissors, my life sustaining post-it notes and a calculator. It also accumulated things like bits of paper, shock pens purchased by my boys at the fair in September and random buttons. The logical solution to this is that all that stuff in the basket could really be housed in what was currently the junk drawer in the kitchen. And my BlackBerry could live right by the phone. Even I can remember that.
Well, junk drawer no more! I bought a little organizer thing at Target (I even measured the drawer before I left - who says I can't learn something from my past mistakes), and emptied the junk drawer of its junk and replaced it with sweet, beautiful, organization. Can you hear the rejoicing? Imagine that I found such treasures as an expired coupon from 2006 for fresh meat at Albertsons, 23 cents in nickels, dimes and pennies, all 13 lost mailbox keys that I refused to look for in '03 and paid the post office to replace the lock on our mailbox with a new one, and 10 rulers. Why we need 10 rulers, I don't know.
And so I am done. My New Year's Resolution is complete. I don't have do anything more. So the secret to successful slacker productivity? Be vague. Be very vague. I only said I wanted to be more selectively organized. No specifics, no quantification. And so now, with one drawer, I can lounge around for the entire 2011 year. Unless the BlackBerry thing doesn't work out.
Happy Slacker New Year!
~S
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
3 days...or in my case 2
When does your family celebrate Christmas? We celebrate with my mother's side of the family on Christmas Eve. At my house. When I was a kid my mom had Christmas Eve at our house; it was her holiday. She always made potato soup and Italian sausage sandwiches. Why? Kind of an odd combination? They were my dad's two favorite dishes. His side of the family came over and sometimes my mom's parents. Over the years, and after the divorce, Christmas Eve moved to my grandma's house (mom's mom), my aunt and uncle and cousins started joining us (I think they had to, living just on the other side of the pier), but the menu remained largely unchanged. I think my grandma added split pea soup because my grandpa really liked that.
The first Christmas after my mom passed away I had my oldest 5 weeks prematurely, on December 19th. She got to spend her first week in the NICU and so, Christmas Eve moved to the hospital. My amazing family drove all the way from the coast to Loma Linda University Hospital, stopping by our house to stock the freezer with the usual holiday fare and more gifts for the baby than I could have dreamed up, and then came and spent a couple of hours with us. Since she was still in an incubator, nobody could even hold her yet. But she was overcoming her pneumonia and getting stronger each day, and we got to bring her home the day after Christmas. It's one of my favorite Christmases for so many reasons. What could have been a terribly sad holiday missing my mom was filled with a new baby and a loving, generous family.
A couple years later we lost my grandma, and Christmas Eve came to my house. The menu has continued to evolve, and now seems to be steadfastly potato soup, ham, and whatever else I dream up. Much to my husband's consternation I have an absolute inability to have a party and not serve something I've never tasted before. I like to experiment with new recipes on a crowd. You've been warned. My 92 year old grandpa still comes out, my aunt and uncle and now my two cousins and their kids. As the kids have gotten older, the running in circles and the volume has gone down. Which I think my grandpa, especially, appreciates.
I love that this has been my tradition for as long as I can remember. I know there was a time when I was really little that this isn't what was happening, but that's okay. I don't remember back that far.
So the little caveat, and there always is one, right? Is that my sister in law, almost always ends up hosting Christmas Day. When that day rolls around, our house resembles a disaster area, and we are pooped. Doesn't seem so bad, right? The thing is the past couple of years she's also been having Thanksgiving at her house. And I don't really think it's fair for her. So I have already committed to hosting Christmas Day next year. We did it once before, and it was...really hard. But the kids were littler and I wasn't as good at doing things ahead of time. I figure with an entire year to plan ahead, 2011 should go off without a hitch. Right? Never mind that last year I forgot to start the soup on time...
Merry Christmas!
xxoo
~Sherri
The first Christmas after my mom passed away I had my oldest 5 weeks prematurely, on December 19th. She got to spend her first week in the NICU and so, Christmas Eve moved to the hospital. My amazing family drove all the way from the coast to Loma Linda University Hospital, stopping by our house to stock the freezer with the usual holiday fare and more gifts for the baby than I could have dreamed up, and then came and spent a couple of hours with us. Since she was still in an incubator, nobody could even hold her yet. But she was overcoming her pneumonia and getting stronger each day, and we got to bring her home the day after Christmas. It's one of my favorite Christmases for so many reasons. What could have been a terribly sad holiday missing my mom was filled with a new baby and a loving, generous family.
A couple years later we lost my grandma, and Christmas Eve came to my house. The menu has continued to evolve, and now seems to be steadfastly potato soup, ham, and whatever else I dream up. Much to my husband's consternation I have an absolute inability to have a party and not serve something I've never tasted before. I like to experiment with new recipes on a crowd. You've been warned. My 92 year old grandpa still comes out, my aunt and uncle and now my two cousins and their kids. As the kids have gotten older, the running in circles and the volume has gone down. Which I think my grandpa, especially, appreciates.
I love that this has been my tradition for as long as I can remember. I know there was a time when I was really little that this isn't what was happening, but that's okay. I don't remember back that far.
So the little caveat, and there always is one, right? Is that my sister in law, almost always ends up hosting Christmas Day. When that day rolls around, our house resembles a disaster area, and we are pooped. Doesn't seem so bad, right? The thing is the past couple of years she's also been having Thanksgiving at her house. And I don't really think it's fair for her. So I have already committed to hosting Christmas Day next year. We did it once before, and it was...really hard. But the kids were littler and I wasn't as good at doing things ahead of time. I figure with an entire year to plan ahead, 2011 should go off without a hitch. Right? Never mind that last year I forgot to start the soup on time...
Merry Christmas!
xxoo
~Sherri
Friday, December 17, 2010
The Sun and I. It's Complicated.
It's a dark, gray, damp, rainy day. Number 2. And I hear it will be this way through Christmas. What?! Say it isn't so, Joe. I need my sunshine. I can take a couple of days, 3 even, of nothing but clouds and rain. But tell me it's going to last for another week and a half??? I'd rather poke my eye out with a stick. Book me on the next flight out to Sunshineville. But it does explain my total and utter lack of motivation this morning. And it reminds me once again why, despite the fact that I dream of moving north where it's lush and green, that I probably won't. I need the sun. Jonesin' for it. I'm addicted man. Help a sister out, toss her a few rays. What? Oh sorry, got caught up in the reverie going on inside my Vit. D deficient brain.
Top 10 Reasons I can never live in the Pacific Northwest
10. It's a little damp.
9. That unrelenting cloud cover.
8. I'm a Slacker Girl at heart and all those gray days just encourage that little personality flaw. In a VERY big way.
7. Because baking is only third to movie watching and fire sitting on the list of what I really want to be doing on a cold, damp day...it would be even harder to maintain my girlish figure. And let's be honest, I'm not doing such a bang up job down here in the sunshine. Wasn't that my resolution for this year?!
6. Because after 3 days of rain, I NEED the sun. Need it. Like Seasonal Affective Disorder setting in, need the sun.
5. I'm afraid of vampires. And werewolves. Thank you Stephenie Meyer. Not really, but it sounds like more fun than being afraid of Vitamin D deficiency.
4. Ticks. Picking them off my dog, gag, or, gag, possibly me, gag. Can't do it.
3. I like to watch the surfers most when they're not in wetsuits.
2. Because there is a drop of saltwater that runs through my veins and it demands that I sit on a sandy, sunny beach. More often than you or my dermatologist want to know.
1. I'm a born and bred southern California beach girl. It's who I am. I can't help it. Like being a redhead. It just sort of defines me. And I like it that way.
dreamin' of the sun,
~S
Top 10 Reasons I can never live in the Pacific Northwest
10. It's a little damp.
9. That unrelenting cloud cover.
8. I'm a Slacker Girl at heart and all those gray days just encourage that little personality flaw. In a VERY big way.
7. Because baking is only third to movie watching and fire sitting on the list of what I really want to be doing on a cold, damp day...it would be even harder to maintain my girlish figure. And let's be honest, I'm not doing such a bang up job down here in the sunshine. Wasn't that my resolution for this year?!
6. Because after 3 days of rain, I NEED the sun. Need it. Like Seasonal Affective Disorder setting in, need the sun.
5. I'm afraid of vampires. And werewolves. Thank you Stephenie Meyer. Not really, but it sounds like more fun than being afraid of Vitamin D deficiency.
4. Ticks. Picking them off my dog, gag, or, gag, possibly me, gag. Can't do it.
3. I like to watch the surfers most when they're not in wetsuits.
2. Because there is a drop of saltwater that runs through my veins and it demands that I sit on a sandy, sunny beach. More often than you or my dermatologist want to know.
1. I'm a born and bred southern California beach girl. It's who I am. I can't help it. Like being a redhead. It just sort of defines me. And I like it that way.
dreamin' of the sun,
~S
Thursday, December 16, 2010
It's a Pajama Day...
...it's raining nice and steady. Thick cloud cover. Fire building weather.
My brain is in a list mode this morning...lots of little thoughts. Not in its usual paragraph form.
1. I'd really like to stay in my jammies all day today.
2. We really need groceries - like for dinner.
3. And toilet paper and cat food. That makes 2 to 3 stores. In the rain. Can I go in my black flannels with all the bright polka dots??? I think my daughter knows too many people in this town for that anymore. She'd be mortified. Maybe it's time to move?
4. Does anyone know why the enter button on my keyboard doesn't doesn't just move the cursor down on Blogger?!
5. At the beginning of this year I really hoped and wished, actually I demanded, an easygoing 12 months to make up for the insanity of 2009.
6. The thing about demanding things from the universe is that it likes to chuckle back at you and say 'Oh yeah, good luck with that. Try this on for size.' All freaking year long. It's okay. We ain't dead yet as someone said to me once.
7. But the universe made up for it in a BIG, gracious way. For years...I'm talking a decade probably...my best friends, the ones who could tell me something was a bad idea and I would actually pause to consider what they were saying...have moved away. Physically, busily, just life taking over our lives. But in the last 6 months they are returning in droves. Some have moved back within driving distance, some have simply gotten back in touch, and some I have good old facebook to thank for. So despite the trials and tribulations of 2010 (and they have been numerous and intense), I am going to always think of it as a Really Good Year. I need my friends man!
8. It's only Thursday. Up until 3 minutes ago, I really thought it was Friday.
9. I found out Henry is a whisky. Not a man. Which is a good thing because my friend is married.
10. I feel like Christmas is too easy this year. What are we forgetting?
11. I think I'll make this lasagna for dinner...which will totally require shopping...in clothes... but it will be worth it and the house will smell so very good when the man graces our doorstep after fighting the good fight all day. I like that he likes my cooking. It's a good thing about him.
This Lasagna started out as my friend Kelli's recipe. Hi Kelli! The one she put in the church's cookbook. But since I didn't read the directions right the first time, or remember the exact ingredients as I shopped the first time, I made it this way instead. If you're a purist and don't think that cottage cheese has any place in a real lasagna, then you should stop reading now. Because there is cottage cheese and we like it that way. Ricotta just sort of grosses me out from the moment I open the package. Sorry purists.
1 lb. Sweet Italian Sausage
1 clove garlic, chopped or use 2 cloves if you use a garlic press
1 Tablespoon chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
1 Tablespoon basil - the dried stuff, but remember to crush it up in your hands to release all the flavor. Emeril demands it. Or you could use fresh, more of it, but I don't have any fresh basil right now.
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
1 large can tomatoes or 2 cans diced Italian tomatoes) - I use whatever is in my pantry at the time.
2 - 6 oz. cans tomato paste
1-10 oz. box lasagna noodles
24 oz. carton large curd cottage cheese - get the low fat and save a few calories.
2 beaten eggs
1 1/2 teaspoon pepper
2 Tablespoons chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese (huh, did you know your spell checker will capitalize Parmesan? Who knew.)
4 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
Assemble this in the morning and you will thank yourself later in the day. I'll be making mine just before I bake it, which just doesn't feel like the same sort of time saver. It's okay.
Preheat your oven to 350 F if you'll be baking it right after assembling it like I will be tonight.
Start the water to boil for your lasagna noodles. I always forget to do this and then have to wait around watching the pot that never boils. Save yourself the heartache and start your water NOW.
Break the sausage out of its casing and brown it, draining off any fat. Add all the ingredients from the garlic to the tomato paste and simmer for 20 minutes. Boil your noodles according to the directions on the box they came in.
In a bowl, mix all the ingredients from the cottage cheese to the Parmesan cheese plus 1/2 (that's 2 cups for those of you who flunked fractions in 5th grade) the mozzarella. Your noodles should be done and drained by now and all that wonderful sauce will make you wish you could eat right now because it smells so good!
Spray a 9x13 baking dish with oil. Spoon a bit of sauce onto the bottom and begin layering noodles, cheese mixture, sauce. I usually use 8 to 10 noodles and only make 2 layers. You want to end with sauce. Top with the remaining 2 cups of mozzarella. Cover loosely with foil and bake about 45 minutes. Disrobe the dish of its foil and bake 15 more minutes until the cheese is all melty
Kelli says this freezes really well (before baking) so go ahead and make a double batch. I've never been that industrious. But I think I'd use a disposable foil pan for the freezing. Be your own Stouffer's frozen lasagna.
12. I want one of those triangle cowboy bells to use to call my family for dinner. They always so NO when I tell them that. Pshhh.
Happy not actually Friday!
~S
My brain is in a list mode this morning...lots of little thoughts. Not in its usual paragraph form.
1. I'd really like to stay in my jammies all day today.
2. We really need groceries - like for dinner.
3. And toilet paper and cat food. That makes 2 to 3 stores. In the rain. Can I go in my black flannels with all the bright polka dots??? I think my daughter knows too many people in this town for that anymore. She'd be mortified. Maybe it's time to move?
4. Does anyone know why the enter button on my keyboard doesn't doesn't just move the cursor down on Blogger?!
5. At the beginning of this year I really hoped and wished, actually I demanded, an easygoing 12 months to make up for the insanity of 2009.
6. The thing about demanding things from the universe is that it likes to chuckle back at you and say 'Oh yeah, good luck with that. Try this on for size.' All freaking year long. It's okay. We ain't dead yet as someone said to me once.
7. But the universe made up for it in a BIG, gracious way. For years...I'm talking a decade probably...my best friends, the ones who could tell me something was a bad idea and I would actually pause to consider what they were saying...have moved away. Physically, busily, just life taking over our lives. But in the last 6 months they are returning in droves. Some have moved back within driving distance, some have simply gotten back in touch, and some I have good old facebook to thank for. So despite the trials and tribulations of 2010 (and they have been numerous and intense), I am going to always think of it as a Really Good Year. I need my friends man!
8. It's only Thursday. Up until 3 minutes ago, I really thought it was Friday.
9. I found out Henry is a whisky. Not a man. Which is a good thing because my friend is married.
10. I feel like Christmas is too easy this year. What are we forgetting?
11. I think I'll make this lasagna for dinner...which will totally require shopping...in clothes... but it will be worth it and the house will smell so very good when the man graces our doorstep after fighting the good fight all day. I like that he likes my cooking. It's a good thing about him.
This Lasagna started out as my friend Kelli's recipe. Hi Kelli! The one she put in the church's cookbook. But since I didn't read the directions right the first time, or remember the exact ingredients as I shopped the first time, I made it this way instead. If you're a purist and don't think that cottage cheese has any place in a real lasagna, then you should stop reading now. Because there is cottage cheese and we like it that way. Ricotta just sort of grosses me out from the moment I open the package. Sorry purists.
1 lb. Sweet Italian Sausage
1 clove garlic, chopped or use 2 cloves if you use a garlic press
1 Tablespoon chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
1 Tablespoon basil - the dried stuff, but remember to crush it up in your hands to release all the flavor. Emeril demands it. Or you could use fresh, more of it, but I don't have any fresh basil right now.
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
1 large can tomatoes or 2 cans diced Italian tomatoes) - I use whatever is in my pantry at the time.
2 - 6 oz. cans tomato paste
1-10 oz. box lasagna noodles
24 oz. carton large curd cottage cheese - get the low fat and save a few calories.
2 beaten eggs
1 1/2 teaspoon pepper
2 Tablespoons chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese (huh, did you know your spell checker will capitalize Parmesan? Who knew.)
4 cups shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
Assemble this in the morning and you will thank yourself later in the day. I'll be making mine just before I bake it, which just doesn't feel like the same sort of time saver. It's okay.
Preheat your oven to 350 F if you'll be baking it right after assembling it like I will be tonight.
Start the water to boil for your lasagna noodles. I always forget to do this and then have to wait around watching the pot that never boils. Save yourself the heartache and start your water NOW.
Break the sausage out of its casing and brown it, draining off any fat. Add all the ingredients from the garlic to the tomato paste and simmer for 20 minutes. Boil your noodles according to the directions on the box they came in.
In a bowl, mix all the ingredients from the cottage cheese to the Parmesan cheese plus 1/2 (that's 2 cups for those of you who flunked fractions in 5th grade) the mozzarella. Your noodles should be done and drained by now and all that wonderful sauce will make you wish you could eat right now because it smells so good!
Spray a 9x13 baking dish with oil. Spoon a bit of sauce onto the bottom and begin layering noodles, cheese mixture, sauce. I usually use 8 to 10 noodles and only make 2 layers. You want to end with sauce. Top with the remaining 2 cups of mozzarella. Cover loosely with foil and bake about 45 minutes. Disrobe the dish of its foil and bake 15 more minutes until the cheese is all melty
Kelli says this freezes really well (before baking) so go ahead and make a double batch. I've never been that industrious. But I think I'd use a disposable foil pan for the freezing. Be your own Stouffer's frozen lasagna.
12. I want one of those triangle cowboy bells to use to call my family for dinner. They always so NO when I tell them that. Pshhh.
Happy not actually Friday!
~S
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Desperately Seeking Simplicity
Remember that movie? Desperately Seeking Susan? With Rosanna Arquette, Madonna and Aidan Quinn? Oh how it made me want to live in a squalid little apartment over a shop in downtown Long Beach. I was working and going to CSULB at the time, still trying to break the chains of suburbia.
Guess what? I'm back. Well, I guess technically you'd call our town suburban sprawl, since the local big wigs have yet to lure any major industry (read employers) here. So I guess I'll wait out my children's teen years watching the grass grow up around me.
I spent my early 20's sifting through my childhood and my young adulthood path of self-destruction to see what fit. What I was going to carry into adulthood. What I liked and what I didn't. What seemed like the straightest path to a simple, peaceful, life. Goodbye old baggage. Hello shiny, bright, new world. I fell in love with someone I had loved as a friend for many years. We finished school. We got married. We both finally had careers instead of jobs and classes. There was a sweet spot there. A profound lack of complications. We knew who we were, who our friends were, and our time was ours to luxuriate in. We were pretty damn blissed out. And maybe a little bored.
My problem, I think, is that I confused simplicity with lack of activity. For a long time, my wise husband just said I needed a certain amount of chaos in my life to feel comfortable in my own skin. But I disagree. I do not like chaos. I revel in harmony and laughter. In understanding and tears. In being sure of the people around me. I have little tolerance for people who aren't really getting it. But I love my good friends and desperately wish we all lived within a 2 mile radius of each other. I prefer pets that like to lounge around and get fat as butter. I love having a house full of people, but hate when a party ends in a fist fight. (I'm too old for that. Memo to the teenagers.)
Today I live in a house full of 5 people, 2 dogs, 2 cats and a handful of fish. Our family has a dynamic of its own. Sometimes we are funny and supportive. Sometimes we are grumpy and unkind and have to make our apologies. And there is a lot of activity. Numerous complications. It is not a simple, peaceful life. But neither is it boring.
xoxo
~S
Guess what? I'm back. Well, I guess technically you'd call our town suburban sprawl, since the local big wigs have yet to lure any major industry (read employers) here. So I guess I'll wait out my children's teen years watching the grass grow up around me.
I spent my early 20's sifting through my childhood and my young adulthood path of self-destruction to see what fit. What I was going to carry into adulthood. What I liked and what I didn't. What seemed like the straightest path to a simple, peaceful, life. Goodbye old baggage. Hello shiny, bright, new world. I fell in love with someone I had loved as a friend for many years. We finished school. We got married. We both finally had careers instead of jobs and classes. There was a sweet spot there. A profound lack of complications. We knew who we were, who our friends were, and our time was ours to luxuriate in. We were pretty damn blissed out. And maybe a little bored.
My problem, I think, is that I confused simplicity with lack of activity. For a long time, my wise husband just said I needed a certain amount of chaos in my life to feel comfortable in my own skin. But I disagree. I do not like chaos. I revel in harmony and laughter. In understanding and tears. In being sure of the people around me. I have little tolerance for people who aren't really getting it. But I love my good friends and desperately wish we all lived within a 2 mile radius of each other. I prefer pets that like to lounge around and get fat as butter. I love having a house full of people, but hate when a party ends in a fist fight. (I'm too old for that. Memo to the teenagers.)
Today I live in a house full of 5 people, 2 dogs, 2 cats and a handful of fish. Our family has a dynamic of its own. Sometimes we are funny and supportive. Sometimes we are grumpy and unkind and have to make our apologies. And there is a lot of activity. Numerous complications. It is not a simple, peaceful life. But neither is it boring.
xoxo
~S
Monday, December 6, 2010
A Silky Voice and a Distinctly BIG Knife
When it's been one of THOSE days, nothing pleases me more than to be alone with my biggest, baddest knife, Chris Isaak's a certain someone's silky voice on the CD player, and something that is begging to be chopped into bits. There's just something about all that chopping and stirring that soothes my soul. The glass of wine doesn't hurt either. But because I'm soooo very good at accidentally cutting myself (stitches and numb area on my left index finger anyone?), the wine usually accompanies the stirring that occurs after the chopping.
Today, however, wasn't one of THOSE days. But I did go for the Big Knife when I made these exceedingly fab potatoes au gratin. These are particularly good for serving up along side a rotisserie chicken you may or may not have picked up at Sam's Club on the way home from your daughter's San Diego located cardiology appointment. Okay, some of you may argue than driving 150 miles round trip for a very cool monitor thing for your child's heart issue might constitute one of THOSE days...I don't. I'm still being dazzled by the technology we brought home that means she doesn't have to spend a month in the hospital hooked up to an EKG machine. ANYHOW, these potatoes are also really handy if your above-mentioned daughter happens to be a teenager and potentially seeing some male types after the meal. There is a load of garlic involved. Don't worry, I've got my methods.
This recipe is from PW, BTW.
Grab 4 largish, to 7 smallish, russet potatoes. Scrub your spuds good and clean. NO peeling required.
2 Tablespoons butter, softened this is for greasing your casserole dish
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup whole milk
2 Tablespoons flour
4 cloves garlic, finely minced If you decide to use a garlic press, I'd double the number of garlic cloves. Mmmm mmm mmm.
1 teaspoon salt
freshly ground pepper, to taste Please go to Sam's Club or Costco and buy the big peppermill that is already filled with whole peppercorns that is by all the spices. It's a throwaway, and one of the best inventions ever.
1 cup sharp cheddar cheese, grated We usually have medium in the house, so that's what I use. And yes, it does taste better if you grate your own. The pre-grated stuff is coated in ...I can't remember...but you can also powder your baby's but with it and it comes in a bright yellow box. Corn starch! That's it! Corn starch! Just grate your own and consider it an upper body workout. You saw the cream above right?!
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.
Smear the softened butter all over the inside of your casserole dish.
Slice the potatoes about 1/4" thick, and then quarter your slices. Kiss your knife.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the cream, milk, flour, garlic, salt and pepper. Use a lot of pepper and spice things up.
Place 1/3 of the potatoes in the bottom of your casserole and pour 1/3 of the cream mixture over the potates. Repeat 2 more times, ending with the cream mixture.
Cover with foil or the glass lid your casserole came with and bake for 30 minutes.
Remove the lid/foil and bake for 20 minutes longer. The potatoes should be browned and bubbling. Add the grated cheese to the top and bake for 3-5 minutes longer, until the cheese is all melted and bubbly.
Allow the potatoes to stand for a few minutes before serving.
Ward off all teenage boys and vampires.
Happy chopping!
~S
Today, however, wasn't one of THOSE days. But I did go for the Big Knife when I made these exceedingly fab potatoes au gratin. These are particularly good for serving up along side a rotisserie chicken you may or may not have picked up at Sam's Club on the way home from your daughter's San Diego located cardiology appointment. Okay, some of you may argue than driving 150 miles round trip for a very cool monitor thing for your child's heart issue might constitute one of THOSE days...I don't. I'm still being dazzled by the technology we brought home that means she doesn't have to spend a month in the hospital hooked up to an EKG machine. ANYHOW, these potatoes are also really handy if your above-mentioned daughter happens to be a teenager and potentially seeing some male types after the meal. There is a load of garlic involved. Don't worry, I've got my methods.
This recipe is from PW, BTW.
Grab 4 largish, to 7 smallish, russet potatoes. Scrub your spuds good and clean. NO peeling required.
2 Tablespoons butter, softened this is for greasing your casserole dish
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup whole milk
2 Tablespoons flour
4 cloves garlic, finely minced If you decide to use a garlic press, I'd double the number of garlic cloves. Mmmm mmm mmm.
1 teaspoon salt
freshly ground pepper, to taste Please go to Sam's Club or Costco and buy the big peppermill that is already filled with whole peppercorns that is by all the spices. It's a throwaway, and one of the best inventions ever.
1 cup sharp cheddar cheese, grated We usually have medium in the house, so that's what I use. And yes, it does taste better if you grate your own. The pre-grated stuff is coated in ...I can't remember...but you can also powder your baby's but with it and it comes in a bright yellow box. Corn starch! That's it! Corn starch! Just grate your own and consider it an upper body workout. You saw the cream above right?!
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.
Smear the softened butter all over the inside of your casserole dish.
Slice the potatoes about 1/4" thick, and then quarter your slices. Kiss your knife.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the cream, milk, flour, garlic, salt and pepper. Use a lot of pepper and spice things up.
Place 1/3 of the potatoes in the bottom of your casserole and pour 1/3 of the cream mixture over the potates. Repeat 2 more times, ending with the cream mixture.
Cover with foil or the glass lid your casserole came with and bake for 30 minutes.
Remove the lid/foil and bake for 20 minutes longer. The potatoes should be browned and bubbling. Add the grated cheese to the top and bake for 3-5 minutes longer, until the cheese is all melted and bubbly.
Allow the potatoes to stand for a few minutes before serving.
Ward off all teenage boys and vampires.
Happy chopping!
~S
Friday, December 3, 2010
B is for Baja
For years and years my plan B has been Baja. Actually, if I'm going to be honest, for a couple of years it was a dreamy plan A. Instead of going to college/getting a respectable career/getting hitched/popping out kids I was going to fly south. Run a little Cantina on the beach. Until I died of melanoma from all that sun on my redheaded, freckled skin. I was 17, so fluent I dreamt in Spanish, and the world was surely mine to catch by the tail. The airport at Los Cabos was still a shack and Cabo San Lucas was still a little village with dirt roads, fishing boats and surfers. Love at first sight.
But it didn't get off the ground. So plan B it became.
I'm a plan B kind of person. Not as in settling for plan B, but as a generally more fun, more exciting, more adventurous alternative to whatever plan A I'm currently running. Keeps me sane. Makes me smile instead of breaking out the duct tape when a kid behaves badly. I can feel the balmy breezes across my cheeks, the sand flecked tiles under my feet, hear the whir of the blender, the pop of a bottle cap, the constant underlying beat of the mariachi music, smell the carnitas. Ahhhh. What's a girl to do if she can't dream here and there?
So I really wish they'd settle down in good ol' Mexico. Quit killing each other off. Because right now...there's not a chance I'd cross the border. It's probably why Bill's been so relaxed this past year. He used to like telling people that there was a good chance one day he'd come to a note that said something like...the kids are at your sisters, I'm in Baja; come join me at Sherri's Cantina... But I'm pretty sure with the ugly wars going on down there, knowing what a 'fraidy cat I am, and that Canada is WAY too cold for me, that he knows Sherri's Cantina is right here at our breakfast bar, or weather allowing, out on the back patio overlooking our ownswimming pool private stretch of shoreline. Perhaps it's really a good blend of plan A and plan B.
Does that make it an AB pattern? Anybody have a kindergartner they can ask??? Anybody else have a plan B?
Love and salsa,
~Sherri
But it didn't get off the ground. So plan B it became.
I'm a plan B kind of person. Not as in settling for plan B, but as a generally more fun, more exciting, more adventurous alternative to whatever plan A I'm currently running. Keeps me sane. Makes me smile instead of breaking out the duct tape when a kid behaves badly. I can feel the balmy breezes across my cheeks, the sand flecked tiles under my feet, hear the whir of the blender, the pop of a bottle cap, the constant underlying beat of the mariachi music, smell the carnitas. Ahhhh. What's a girl to do if she can't dream here and there?
So I really wish they'd settle down in good ol' Mexico. Quit killing each other off. Because right now...there's not a chance I'd cross the border. It's probably why Bill's been so relaxed this past year. He used to like telling people that there was a good chance one day he'd come to a note that said something like...the kids are at your sisters, I'm in Baja; come join me at Sherri's Cantina... But I'm pretty sure with the ugly wars going on down there, knowing what a 'fraidy cat I am, and that Canada is WAY too cold for me, that he knows Sherri's Cantina is right here at our breakfast bar, or weather allowing, out on the back patio overlooking our own
Does that make it an AB pattern? Anybody have a kindergartner they can ask??? Anybody else have a plan B?
Love and salsa,
~Sherri
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Definitely a Rant. Apologies Made Now!
The thing about having a blog is you need to write it. And besides time, you need your computer to actually write it on. And when you have 3 kids...who have bidness to take care of in cyber world...and one desk computer for everyone, well, time is precious. Especially this time of year when everyone seems to be checking out cool last minute additions to their Christmas lists. News flash - the shopping is DONE! Ha ha ha ha. Don't you just hate when people tell you that just as December is cresting? Once and only once have Bill and I been 99% done by the end of Thanksgiving weekend. But I'm pretty sure that last 1% dragged itself out for the next 4 weeks, culminating in my purchasing some last minute gift cards Christmas Eve morning when I was supposed to be cooking the potato soup for the family that was arriving very, very soon. Just keeping it real here. We are not done. But we have begun, and have a pretty good idea of the who what when and where. Wish me luck....what's that saying about the best layed, laid, lade plans going haywire, inviting chaos, I don't know, but there's a saying. Right?! I need a little moral support here. I'm not bragging, but I did just put my cards in the mail.
So, the other thing on my mind is the situation with my daughter's high school. She's missed weeks upon weeks because of this ongoing, still undiagnosed, health issue. So finishing the semester is tricky, but quite possible. I'm being generous when I say I have been under-impressed with the administration, the counselors and a teacher. One in particular, demonstrated such unprofessional behavior in our parent/teacher conference last week, that I couldn't help but be shocked he had a job. I have fired people, immediately, for treating a client the way he talked to us. And every time we have a meeting set up, somebody from the school can not attend because they are tending to a personal matter...taking an ex-husband to surgery, a doctor's appointment scheduled during school hours, a grandmother becoming ill necessitating crossing the entire country to help the mom, delivering Thanksgiving baskets during school hours. If you teach aren't you expected to be there anymore? Aren't you expected to schedule your appointments first thing in the morning or at the very end of the day so as not to disrupt your workplace? I think people have gotten a little confused as to what really constitutes a situation that is worthy of time out of the office. Maybe I'm just getting old. Maybe I've absorbed Bill's hardcore work ethic, but c'mon people, show up, do what you say you're going to, and I don't know, get out of teaching if you hate it. I don't care if there's no market for somebody with a geometry degree. Not my problem. Get a different one. Work at Home Depot, but DON'T suck the life out of my child's inspiration to take calculus her senior year by telling her...hope I don't catch anything from you and my best advice to you is to just take a D and the credits and retake the class at thejunior community college over the summer if the grade is that important to you... What?! Did you just really tell my kid to strive for the lowest possible denominator??? Really? That's the best you've got? Funny how his tune changed when his Vice Principal called him about it the next day. So yeah, I've got to try and get her out of this guy's class as soon as she has some sort of a grade for this semester. And then it is ON. If he thinks I'm done with him yet...he might want to start thinking like a redhead and be a little proactive with his career.
I'm not teacher bashing. I promise. Before I get hate mail from some of my favorite family members and friends who are/were teachers, I will say that a committed, fantastic teacher can still pull a lot out in a traditional classroom setting. And knowing these people as I do I'd venture that they are certainly the type of teacher who has former students looking them up years in the future because they were one of the most outstanding teachers they had in all the years they were in school. Unfortunately, they are few and far between. If you know me, you likely know I'm not the hugest public school system fan and we homeschool the boys and homeschooled Isabel for 6 years. And I've got at least one foot in the camp that thinks the public school system doesn't need revising, changing, overhauling and most certainly didn't need No Child Left Behind. Let's not even bring up the relentless (and proving to be fruitless) testing the kids now endure. No, I lean towards thinking the whole thing is irrevocably broken. Starting wholly fresh is what is really needed. I don't have any solid ideas about how that could actually happen, so mostly I keep my mouth shut. But I'm pretty sure if you took the best teachers and looked at what they are really doing to inspire kids, and held some high standards...well, something pretty amazing could happen. If you're not part of the solution, you're just a whiny part of the problem in my book. So my rant ends here. If you stayed with me this long...I can only thank you for letting me get this off my chest. The world is probably a safer place. And I wouldn't look good in an orange prison jumpsuit.
Definitely I thank you, because I am sonot looking forward to my 7am meeting with Isabel's geometry teacher and her counselor tomorrow morning. You might want to pray for my composure and dignity.
xoxo
~Sherri
So, the other thing on my mind is the situation with my daughter's high school. She's missed weeks upon weeks because of this ongoing, still undiagnosed, health issue. So finishing the semester is tricky, but quite possible. I'm being generous when I say I have been under-impressed with the administration, the counselors and a teacher. One in particular, demonstrated such unprofessional behavior in our parent/teacher conference last week, that I couldn't help but be shocked he had a job. I have fired people, immediately, for treating a client the way he talked to us. And every time we have a meeting set up, somebody from the school can not attend because they are tending to a personal matter...taking an ex-husband to surgery, a doctor's appointment scheduled during school hours, a grandmother becoming ill necessitating crossing the entire country to help the mom, delivering Thanksgiving baskets during school hours. If you teach aren't you expected to be there anymore? Aren't you expected to schedule your appointments first thing in the morning or at the very end of the day so as not to disrupt your workplace? I think people have gotten a little confused as to what really constitutes a situation that is worthy of time out of the office. Maybe I'm just getting old. Maybe I've absorbed Bill's hardcore work ethic, but c'mon people, show up, do what you say you're going to, and I don't know, get out of teaching if you hate it. I don't care if there's no market for somebody with a geometry degree. Not my problem. Get a different one. Work at Home Depot, but DON'T suck the life out of my child's inspiration to take calculus her senior year by telling her...hope I don't catch anything from you and my best advice to you is to just take a D and the credits and retake the class at the
I'm not teacher bashing. I promise. Before I get hate mail from some of my favorite family members and friends who are/were teachers, I will say that a committed, fantastic teacher can still pull a lot out in a traditional classroom setting. And knowing these people as I do I'd venture that they are certainly the type of teacher who has former students looking them up years in the future because they were one of the most outstanding teachers they had in all the years they were in school. Unfortunately, they are few and far between. If you know me, you likely know I'm not the hugest public school system fan and we homeschool the boys and homeschooled Isabel for 6 years. And I've got at least one foot in the camp that thinks the public school system doesn't need revising, changing, overhauling and most certainly didn't need No Child Left Behind. Let's not even bring up the relentless (and proving to be fruitless) testing the kids now endure. No, I lean towards thinking the whole thing is irrevocably broken. Starting wholly fresh is what is really needed. I don't have any solid ideas about how that could actually happen, so mostly I keep my mouth shut. But I'm pretty sure if you took the best teachers and looked at what they are really doing to inspire kids, and held some high standards...well, something pretty amazing could happen. If you're not part of the solution, you're just a whiny part of the problem in my book. So my rant ends here. If you stayed with me this long...I can only thank you for letting me get this off my chest. The world is probably a safer place. And I wouldn't look good in an orange prison jumpsuit.
Definitely I thank you, because I am so
xoxo
~Sherri
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Day After Tomorrow We Feast!
Did you wake up, with the sudden realization that Thanksgiving is day after tomorrow? And you're supposed to bring the sweet potatoes...but you don't make sweet potatoes?! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? You know the grocery's shelves are empty by now, right??? No cans of the orange darlings, no bags of marshmallows to be found. It's too late to order them all made up from the deli counter. What will they still have in abundance? Simple, old-fashioned, made from scratch ingredients. Besides, you probably already have most of these in your pantry and fridge. Yes, Virginia, you can make these from scratch and watch people swoon!
Sweet Potatoes
Sweet Potatoes
3 medium sweet potatoes, baked, flesh scooped out (about 3 cups) You bake these babies just like a regular potato, prick it, rub the outside with butter, BUT put them on a foil lined baking sheet because they are messier bakers)
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup butter, melted
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon (I use a rounded measure for the cinnamon and nutmeg.)
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 cup heavy cream, half & half, or whole milk I've made it all ways, it's all good!
Topping
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup walnuts, chopped
1/3 cup flour
3 Tablespoons butter, melted
Preheat your oven to 325 degrees.
Mix all the sweet potato ingredients together EXCEPT the cream. Beat with an electric mixer until smooth. Add the cream and mix well. Pour into a greased casserole dish, about the size of an 8" x 8" one.
Mix the topping ingredients together with a fork and sprinkle over the top of the sweet potatoes.
Bake 25 - 30 minutes.
Watch the sweet potato haters convert!
Okay, I have written more about being thankful, and deleted them all, than you might imagine. Why can't I get it down? What's the block Sherri? What's the happs? It's that time of year. You have friends who have been posting since the beginning of November, what they are thankful for each day. I don't know, but I suspect, that it's because, at 44, I have had my share of unexpected tragedy, despair and devastation. I know I'm not alone in this. But because I'm truly an optimist, I have always found the blessing, however tiny, and clung, sometimes desperately, to it.
So when I contemplate my deeply thankful spirit, I tend toward the dramatic, I get a little maudlin, I usually shed a few tears. But without those experiences...would I be as determined as I am to find the joy in it all? Would I have the strength I have? Would I have been able to simply be glad my daughter and I weren't the first guy in line at the ER a couple weeks ago? Nope. And there you have it. My grandma was right, those things that haven't killed me, have indeed made me stronger. Contributed greatly to the woman I've become. So those ugly parts of your life? They happen. But if you can find the ray of hope, even if it's that you will see you can get through it, hold on to that. Because neither the good or the bad last forever! Revel in the good, know the bad will pass. It's how you let those things define you, that make you who you are.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!
~S
Sweet Potatoes
Sweet Potatoes
3 medium sweet potatoes, baked, flesh scooped out (about 3 cups) You bake these babies just like a regular potato, prick it, rub the outside with butter, BUT put them on a foil lined baking sheet because they are messier bakers)
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup butter, melted
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon (I use a rounded measure for the cinnamon and nutmeg.)
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 cup heavy cream, half & half, or whole milk I've made it all ways, it's all good!
Topping
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup walnuts, chopped
1/3 cup flour
3 Tablespoons butter, melted
Preheat your oven to 325 degrees.
Mix all the sweet potato ingredients together EXCEPT the cream. Beat with an electric mixer until smooth. Add the cream and mix well. Pour into a greased casserole dish, about the size of an 8" x 8" one.
Mix the topping ingredients together with a fork and sprinkle over the top of the sweet potatoes.
Bake 25 - 30 minutes.
Watch the sweet potato haters convert!
Okay, I have written more about being thankful, and deleted them all, than you might imagine. Why can't I get it down? What's the block Sherri? What's the happs? It's that time of year. You have friends who have been posting since the beginning of November, what they are thankful for each day. I don't know, but I suspect, that it's because, at 44, I have had my share of unexpected tragedy, despair and devastation. I know I'm not alone in this. But because I'm truly an optimist, I have always found the blessing, however tiny, and clung, sometimes desperately, to it.
So when I contemplate my deeply thankful spirit, I tend toward the dramatic, I get a little maudlin, I usually shed a few tears. But without those experiences...would I be as determined as I am to find the joy in it all? Would I have the strength I have? Would I have been able to simply be glad my daughter and I weren't the first guy in line at the ER a couple weeks ago? Nope. And there you have it. My grandma was right, those things that haven't killed me, have indeed made me stronger. Contributed greatly to the woman I've become. So those ugly parts of your life? They happen. But if you can find the ray of hope, even if it's that you will see you can get through it, hold on to that. Because neither the good or the bad last forever! Revel in the good, know the bad will pass. It's how you let those things define you, that make you who you are.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!
~S
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Confessions and Cranberries
Thanksgiving is creeping up on us! I LOVE Thanksgiving dinner. It is, hands down, my all time favorite meal. I savor the co-mingling of the sweet from sweet potato souffle, with the saltiness of my Aunt Maria's cucumber salad, the smooth as silk gravy flowing over the lumpy mashed potatoes, the combination of hot and cold things on my plate at the same time, the mellow flavors of the turkey and dressing with the pungent tartness of good, home made cranberry sauce. I am totally one of those people who doesn't really want anything to do with a cranberry sauce that came out of can. Sorry. It's one of those things about me you just have to know. I will never, ever, forget being at my grandmother's house one Thanksgiving and watching her carefully, slowly, painstakingly coaxing the cranberry sauce gelatin out of the can and rejoicing in the perfect lines from the can that allowed her to make even slices of the stuff. Even at the tender age I was, I knew there had to be a better way. Go ahead and try and guess which grandma. I have 3, so you've only got a 33% of guessing correctly. If you knew any of these fine ladies, you will likely be able to eliminate one right off the bat. And my grandma with the canned stuff, well, she's got many, many other fabulous attributes so I don't think she worries too much about our cranberry differences.
But I digress. You must make this cranberry recipe. I have made several over the years, including my other grandma's which with her doubled sugar was my favorite standby until I found this one a couple years back. It is the ONLY cranberry recipe you need. And you can make it the weekend before Thanksgiving, eliminating one thing to do on the day of. In fact, it's better made ahead so all the flavors can mingle and marry. And the color is breathtaking. Put it in a cut crystal bowl, or any glass dish you have, and it just gleams on the table.
ALICE'S CRANBERRY SAUCE (from the Sweet & Savory blog by Alice if I remember correctly)
12 oz. bag cranberries
3/4 cup orange juice
2/3 cup brown sugar (I use dark brown)
1/3 cup white sugar
2 oz. rum (optional) Now you know I use this. It gives it so much more depth of flavor.
Place all ingredients in a saucepan and cook on medium high 15 to 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. The cranberries will pop. Cool. Refrigerate until the big day.
That's IT! Simple, you probably already have every single ingredient except the cranberries, but you're going to the grocery anyway, so buy some ahead and freeze the bag if you want to. Just that before you cook 'em. With this recipe there is simply no reason for that nasty canned stuff to be on anybody's table. I'm just going to lay it out there.
Gobble gobble,
~S
But I digress. You must make this cranberry recipe. I have made several over the years, including my other grandma's which with her doubled sugar was my favorite standby until I found this one a couple years back. It is the ONLY cranberry recipe you need. And you can make it the weekend before Thanksgiving, eliminating one thing to do on the day of. In fact, it's better made ahead so all the flavors can mingle and marry. And the color is breathtaking. Put it in a cut crystal bowl, or any glass dish you have, and it just gleams on the table.
ALICE'S CRANBERRY SAUCE (from the Sweet & Savory blog by Alice if I remember correctly)
12 oz. bag cranberries
3/4 cup orange juice
2/3 cup brown sugar (I use dark brown)
1/3 cup white sugar
2 oz. rum (optional) Now you know I use this. It gives it so much more depth of flavor.
Place all ingredients in a saucepan and cook on medium high 15 to 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. The cranberries will pop. Cool. Refrigerate until the big day.
That's IT! Simple, you probably already have every single ingredient except the cranberries, but you're going to the grocery anyway, so buy some ahead and freeze the bag if you want to. Just that before you cook 'em. With this recipe there is simply no reason for that nasty canned stuff to be on anybody's table. I'm just going to lay it out there.
Gobble gobble,
~S
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
This Wednesday (today) RIGHT NOW...
...really just might kill me if it doesn't end soon.
Just sayin'.
xoxo
~S
Just sayin'.
xoxo
~S
Monday, November 15, 2010
We are SUCH a bunch of gringos.
You know, I pride myself on the quarter part of my heritage that is Mexican. And no, I don't call myself Hispanic, of Spanish descent or any of the other indistinct monikers. My family is from Guadalajara, Mexico. We are Mexican! Every time I have to fill out an ethnicity box on a form, my eyes roll back in my head. They always want me to choose between Caucasian, Not of Hispanic Descent OR Hispanic. Ummm, have you seen me? Pasty redhead with freckles. But yeah, Mexican blood does run through my veins. So I always choose Other, because apparently in the eyes of statisticians it's who I am. Square peg, round hole. Let's just say I'm familiar with the concept.
Tonight though, around our dinner table, we all discovered just what gringos we are. Bill's friend from work, Big Rey, had given him some homemade Mexican sausage awhile back. I've had Big Rey's salsa, so I knew this sausage was going to be hot, hot, hot before I even laid eyes on how red it was from all the peppers in it. Whew. It scared me. So I did what I always do with something I don't know how to cook right away, I put it in the freezer. Well, don't you know that last week Big Ray clapped Bill on the back and asked how the family had liked the sausage. And Bill, being The Most Upstanding Person I Know (including me), admitted we hadn't eaten it yet. Big Rey was...disappointed. We had let him down. It was time to cook the sausage.
So tonight I broke that sausage out of it's casing, fried it up, and served it alongside scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, and fruit. You know that long, slow, afterburn really good, really hot, Mexican dishes have? Yep. Quadruple that, and you have this sausage. The sensible females of the household sprinkled some atop our eggs like it was black pepper, buried it in cheese where it was quite tasty and still really hot. But the males, oh the males. They got a little cocky. There was a little boasting and strutting going on. A wager or two might have been made. Always a good time for us women folk when the men break out their peacock feathers. You just know it's there's going to be a show. Big bitefuls were consumed. Faces contorted and turned red. Brows beaded with sweat. Strange sounds were squeaked out. Large glasses of milk were consumed and refilled. But sadly, in the end, most of the sausage didn't get eaten. Because we are pretty darn gringo. Sigh.
At least nobody complained that the biscuits were a little too done.
From your gringo blogging friend...have a good one!!!
~S
Tonight though, around our dinner table, we all discovered just what gringos we are. Bill's friend from work, Big Rey, had given him some homemade Mexican sausage awhile back. I've had Big Rey's salsa, so I knew this sausage was going to be hot, hot, hot before I even laid eyes on how red it was from all the peppers in it. Whew. It scared me. So I did what I always do with something I don't know how to cook right away, I put it in the freezer. Well, don't you know that last week Big Ray clapped Bill on the back and asked how the family had liked the sausage. And Bill, being The Most Upstanding Person I Know (including me), admitted we hadn't eaten it yet. Big Rey was...disappointed. We had let him down. It was time to cook the sausage.
So tonight I broke that sausage out of it's casing, fried it up, and served it alongside scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy, and fruit. You know that long, slow, afterburn really good, really hot, Mexican dishes have? Yep. Quadruple that, and you have this sausage. The sensible females of the household sprinkled some atop our eggs like it was black pepper, buried it in cheese where it was quite tasty and still really hot. But the males, oh the males. They got a little cocky. There was a little boasting and strutting going on. A wager or two might have been made. Always a good time for us women folk when the men break out their peacock feathers. You just know it's there's going to be a show. Big bitefuls were consumed. Faces contorted and turned red. Brows beaded with sweat. Strange sounds were squeaked out. Large glasses of milk were consumed and refilled. But sadly, in the end, most of the sausage didn't get eaten. Because we are pretty darn gringo. Sigh.
At least nobody complained that the biscuits were a little too done.
From your gringo blogging friend...have a good one!!!
~S
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Lists and chocolate chip cookies. They go together.
I'm totally a list maker. Once a long time ago, before I retired to be a full time mom, a friend I worked with was listening to the radio. They were talking about personality types, and how that is reflected in the lists they make or don't make. Some of us, apparently, are a bit obsessive about the whole thing. They will add things they've already done to a To Do List just so they can cross it off. That's me. I absolutely do that! Before that, I thought it was just me. When life gets busy...I think in lists. This is today's...
1. I didn't vote in last week's election. It was a conscious decision. With a super excusable reason - I was taking my child to an ER 70 miles away at the behest of our pediatrician.
2. If I had been able to vote (and please know that I stopped at our polling place and nobody cared to let me skip the line despite the fact that I was on the way to the hospital with my kid), I would not have voted for a particular incumbent city council member. Why? Because he lives around the corner from me and each and every morning on our walk, my faithful beagle chose his yard to do his business in, as soon as Mr. Incumbent Council Member put his little campaign sign up in his yard. I took that as a sign. Charlie hasn't steered me wrong yet.
3. My 13 year old son is on the edge of a growth spurt and is eating us out of house and home. He's about to be taller than his 6' dad.
4. While I was out this afternoon, somebody used up all the flour...but there were no baked goods in the kitchen to show for it. There were however a couple dozen chocolate chip cookies stowed away in my daughter's room. She says she didn't know if we could all eat them since we don't know if she's contagious. Really she didn't want to share with the above mentioned 13 year old who would have wolfed them down in the space of an hour. I'll be making her reservation at the local teen girl eating disorder clinic tomorrow morning. Kidding! But I do know now that she is capable of cleaning the kitchen to spotless perfection when necessary...
5. We actually still don't know what's ailing her.
6. We got a Bass Pro Shop mailer today. I can't wait to read it after dinner. I love Bass Pro Shop.
7. And country music. (That's Bill's fault BTW.)
8. My mother is rolling in her grave over numbers 6 and 7 right now.
9. Sometimes the perfect time to feed my family dinner is 7:30pm.
10 This is the chocolate chip cookie recipe from the missing flour....and it is straight out of Trisha Yearwood's cookbook Georgia Cooking in an Oklahoma Kitchen.
2/3 cup (1 1/3 sticks) butter, room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed (don't use the light brown, trust me on this)
1 large egg, room temperature (I'm pretty sure I don't plan ahead this far)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (we've already had the discussion - only use the REAL stuff)
1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (16 oz. package) semisweet chocolate chips
Place the oven rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
Using the electric mixer (I use my Kitchen-Aid but I'm sure a hand held would work too), beat the butter, sugars, egg and vanilla together until smooth.
Sift the flour, baking soda and salt together and, with the beater running, slowly add to the butter mixture. Stir in the chocolate chips. (Okay, I NEVER sift anything. It gives me a headache. I just get out my whisk and whisk all of it in a bowl until I think it looks fluffier. Precise right?)
Drop the batter by teaspoonfuls about 2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, or until lightly browned. Carefully remove the cookies to a wire rack to cool. Store in an airtight container. (I make big teaspoon drops because I like 'em chewy in the middle!)
I just found this recipe about a month ago, maybe 2, and I can't tell you how many countless batches I've made. It is hands down my favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe. Second ONLY to my chocolate chip cookie bars.
11. You knew there had to be an 11 right? A nice and tidy 10 is so not me. We all laughed so hard at dinner tonight that I was sure milk was coming out of somebody's nose. Life is good.
Make cookies,
~S
1. I didn't vote in last week's election. It was a conscious decision. With a super excusable reason - I was taking my child to an ER 70 miles away at the behest of our pediatrician.
2. If I had been able to vote (and please know that I stopped at our polling place and nobody cared to let me skip the line despite the fact that I was on the way to the hospital with my kid), I would not have voted for a particular incumbent city council member. Why? Because he lives around the corner from me and each and every morning on our walk, my faithful beagle chose his yard to do his business in, as soon as Mr. Incumbent Council Member put his little campaign sign up in his yard. I took that as a sign. Charlie hasn't steered me wrong yet.
3. My 13 year old son is on the edge of a growth spurt and is eating us out of house and home. He's about to be taller than his 6' dad.
4. While I was out this afternoon, somebody used up all the flour...but there were no baked goods in the kitchen to show for it. There were however a couple dozen chocolate chip cookies stowed away in my daughter's room. She says she didn't know if we could all eat them since we don't know if she's contagious. Really she didn't want to share with the above mentioned 13 year old who would have wolfed them down in the space of an hour. I'll be making her reservation at the local teen girl eating disorder clinic tomorrow morning. Kidding! But I do know now that she is capable of cleaning the kitchen to spotless perfection when necessary...
5. We actually still don't know what's ailing her.
6. We got a Bass Pro Shop mailer today. I can't wait to read it after dinner. I love Bass Pro Shop.
7. And country music. (That's Bill's fault BTW.)
8. My mother is rolling in her grave over numbers 6 and 7 right now.
9. Sometimes the perfect time to feed my family dinner is 7:30pm.
10 This is the chocolate chip cookie recipe from the missing flour....and it is straight out of Trisha Yearwood's cookbook Georgia Cooking in an Oklahoma Kitchen.
2/3 cup (1 1/3 sticks) butter, room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed (don't use the light brown, trust me on this)
1 large egg, room temperature (I'm pretty sure I don't plan ahead this far)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (we've already had the discussion - only use the REAL stuff)
1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (16 oz. package) semisweet chocolate chips
Place the oven rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
Using the electric mixer (I use my Kitchen-Aid but I'm sure a hand held would work too), beat the butter, sugars, egg and vanilla together until smooth.
Sift the flour, baking soda and salt together and, with the beater running, slowly add to the butter mixture. Stir in the chocolate chips. (Okay, I NEVER sift anything. It gives me a headache. I just get out my whisk and whisk all of it in a bowl until I think it looks fluffier. Precise right?)
Drop the batter by teaspoonfuls about 2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, or until lightly browned. Carefully remove the cookies to a wire rack to cool. Store in an airtight container. (I make big teaspoon drops because I like 'em chewy in the middle!)
I just found this recipe about a month ago, maybe 2, and I can't tell you how many countless batches I've made. It is hands down my favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe. Second ONLY to my chocolate chip cookie bars.
11. You knew there had to be an 11 right? A nice and tidy 10 is so not me. We all laughed so hard at dinner tonight that I was sure milk was coming out of somebody's nose. Life is good.
Make cookies,
~S
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
And we're out of soap.
This past month and a half have been unusually busy with sick people in our family. But one, my daughter, is still not well. And she got sick first. So last night we were told at her afternoon doctor appointment, to...go home, pack a bag, go to Children's Hospital's ER and be prepared to possibly be admitted. Alrighty then. Not what I expected, but we're an adaptable bunch.
Did we go? Being the cooperative, coachable, doctor direction following mom and daughter that we are, we did. This particular hospital happens to be 70 miles away! But I didn't blink an eye, figuring I'd at least get to sleep in the uncomfortable chair in her room.
Did they admit her? Nope.
Run a bunch of tests? Absolutely.
Look at us like why are you here at night, in the ER, for this? Definitely.
Did I spend 6 hours in a small, hard, desk type chair, not sleeping? Uh huh.
Was she released at 2am so we could now drive, exhausted, the 70 miles back home? Of course.
Offer me a cup of coffee? Ummm, there's a 7-11 a couple blocks away.
Like I would even consider getting out of my car at a deserted 7-11 at 2am while leaving my baby girl in the car. Riiight. Do I look that dumb?
After I silently cursed them all out, wondering if they cared at all about the studies showing the dangers of driving while sleep deprived, the fact that 2am is the worst time to be on the roads, after all the bars have just closed, the tiny little fact that our house is 70 MILES AWAY?!; we asked for a security escort to our car in the parking structure down the block, and drove home.
Arriving safely at the blissful hour of 3:20am.
Making my crazy, little dog bark like crazy as soon as the garage door went up. He knows we're a respectable family, always tucked safely in at this wee hour. This was his house, and he was going to make sure we all knew it. Waking up Bill, poor guy.
I gave my groggy man a synopsis of what all happened...and pretty much the last thing he said to me before he drifted back to sleep was...oh, and we're out of soap.
I love this! Because it means, that the normal activities of the day, like showering, must go on. That despite the fact that I'm frustrated with our medical care and the lack of a cohesive plan between doctors, that they exist. That tests are available. A solution is somewhere in our future. And while I run around with our daughter taking care of all the business, the men in our little family, will keep the place running, have KFC for dinner and use up all the soap!
Love ya!
~S
Did we go? Being the cooperative, coachable, doctor direction following mom and daughter that we are, we did. This particular hospital happens to be 70 miles away! But I didn't blink an eye, figuring I'd at least get to sleep in the uncomfortable chair in her room.
Did they admit her? Nope.
Run a bunch of tests? Absolutely.
Look at us like why are you here at night, in the ER, for this? Definitely.
Did I spend 6 hours in a small, hard, desk type chair, not sleeping? Uh huh.
Was she released at 2am so we could now drive, exhausted, the 70 miles back home? Of course.
Offer me a cup of coffee? Ummm, there's a 7-11 a couple blocks away.
Like I would even consider getting out of my car at a deserted 7-11 at 2am while leaving my baby girl in the car. Riiight. Do I look that dumb?
After I silently cursed them all out, wondering if they cared at all about the studies showing the dangers of driving while sleep deprived, the fact that 2am is the worst time to be on the roads, after all the bars have just closed, the tiny little fact that our house is 70 MILES AWAY?!; we asked for a security escort to our car in the parking structure down the block, and drove home.
Arriving safely at the blissful hour of 3:20am.
Making my crazy, little dog bark like crazy as soon as the garage door went up. He knows we're a respectable family, always tucked safely in at this wee hour. This was his house, and he was going to make sure we all knew it. Waking up Bill, poor guy.
I gave my groggy man a synopsis of what all happened...and pretty much the last thing he said to me before he drifted back to sleep was...oh, and we're out of soap.
I love this! Because it means, that the normal activities of the day, like showering, must go on. That despite the fact that I'm frustrated with our medical care and the lack of a cohesive plan between doctors, that they exist. That tests are available. A solution is somewhere in our future. And while I run around with our daughter taking care of all the business, the men in our little family, will keep the place running, have KFC for dinner and use up all the soap!
Love ya!
~S
Thursday, October 28, 2010
If I'd have known...I'd have crock'd my roast
Today has been one of those days...when I leave my house in the morning, expecting to be home around noon. Except I spent the afternoon taking my daughter for fun things like x-rays and lab tests. It was an unexpected sort of day for me (and my needle phobic baby girl), so I didn't crockpot anything for dinner in the morning. Which means we are stuck eating frozen burger patties, chips and apple slices. Not exactly my favorite, but my burgerholic boys are, no doubt, giving thanks to the heavens above, so there's your silver lining! Now I realize being gone all day is the norm for most of America, but since I'm a stay at home, (shockingly mainstream) homeschooling, homebody-type mom...I'm here pretty much all the time.
If I had known I would be removed from my household for the day, at the very least I would have thrown this into my crockpot. I usually keep a chuck roast in the freezer, and, although manufacturers of 'slow cookers' recommend you don't throw frozen hunks of meat into your crockpot, I will let you in on a little secret. I do it all the time, and we ain't died yet! I think they are CYAing to their litigation department's tune. But that's just me. You have to decide for yourself. (See, I can CMA too.) This is perhaps the most basic a crockpot recipe can get, but it has saved dinner more than once!
Crock'd Roast Beast
1 - 4-5 lb. chuck roast (you can adjust the size accordingly, this feeds our hungry family of 5, with leftovers that make great burritos, tacos, nachos and hot sandwiches for lunch)
Lawry's Seasoning Salt
1/2 cup leftover morning coffee
Season all sides of your roast and put it in your crockpot. Add the coffee. Cover and turn on low for all day cooking. If you happen to have a frozen roast, you might want to turn it on high for an hour before you leave, and then down to low, but it will cook the other way too, just taking a bit longer.
Feel free to slice onions, potatoes, carrots, celery and throw them in there if you like (the roast goes in last). While that does make a handy ENTIRE meal, my family doesn't like their potatoes and veggies this way. When I'm really pressed to get dinner on the table a bag of frozen broccoli and loaf of french bread go a long way towards completing a meal. This is also a great way to use up half empty bottles of sauces, marinades, salsa etc. Just eliminate the coffee and seasoning salt. If you have plenty of time, whip up some mashed potatoes, use the pan juices to make gravy and live large.
Well, the siren song of frozen sirloin patties from Sam's Club are calling...
xoxo
~S
If I had known I would be removed from my household for the day, at the very least I would have thrown this into my crockpot. I usually keep a chuck roast in the freezer, and, although manufacturers of 'slow cookers' recommend you don't throw frozen hunks of meat into your crockpot, I will let you in on a little secret. I do it all the time, and we ain't died yet! I think they are CYAing to their litigation department's tune. But that's just me. You have to decide for yourself. (See, I can CMA too.) This is perhaps the most basic a crockpot recipe can get, but it has saved dinner more than once!
Crock'd Roast Beast
1 - 4-5 lb. chuck roast (you can adjust the size accordingly, this feeds our hungry family of 5, with leftovers that make great burritos, tacos, nachos and hot sandwiches for lunch)
Lawry's Seasoning Salt
1/2 cup leftover morning coffee
Season all sides of your roast and put it in your crockpot. Add the coffee. Cover and turn on low for all day cooking. If you happen to have a frozen roast, you might want to turn it on high for an hour before you leave, and then down to low, but it will cook the other way too, just taking a bit longer.
Feel free to slice onions, potatoes, carrots, celery and throw them in there if you like (the roast goes in last). While that does make a handy ENTIRE meal, my family doesn't like their potatoes and veggies this way. When I'm really pressed to get dinner on the table a bag of frozen broccoli and loaf of french bread go a long way towards completing a meal. This is also a great way to use up half empty bottles of sauces, marinades, salsa etc. Just eliminate the coffee and seasoning salt. If you have plenty of time, whip up some mashed potatoes, use the pan juices to make gravy and live large.
Well, the siren song of frozen sirloin patties from Sam's Club are calling...
xoxo
~S
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Fling them aside!
Cast them off!
Today, just this morning, I have flung Monkey #2 off my back. The TV issue, solved Monday, I guess has to qualify as #1. But really, this morning's, was so much more fulfilling. The details are boring, so I won't list them, but Bill and I are going to raise our glasses to taking care of bidness tonight!
And before anyone goes off getting all...I hate Sherri and her perfect, monkey flung off, life...just know there are plenty where that one came from. My life is by any measure NOT perfect.
One monkey at a time.
Even though I tend to want to take on the whole zoo in one massive, life altering, glorious, hard left turning change, the world in general, seems not to want to cooperate.
So I will settle for one at time, and be glad it's gone.
And really hope we didn't just make room for a new one. Hardee har har. That would be a drag!
So if you've been putting it off...just start. This particular monkey fling has been MONTHS in the making, but if we hadn't started...well I'd be carting that thing around my neck right now.
Love ya'!
~Sherri
P.S. My reward for this??? Spending the day at one of those tortuous kid places full of LOUD video games and go carts with my boys. They won a trip from our charter school. Good test scores or something useless like that. I'll be bringing the Advil. You can find me at the picnic bench in the shady corner.
Today, just this morning, I have flung Monkey #2 off my back. The TV issue, solved Monday, I guess has to qualify as #1. But really, this morning's, was so much more fulfilling. The details are boring, so I won't list them, but Bill and I are going to raise our glasses to taking care of bidness tonight!
And before anyone goes off getting all...I hate Sherri and her perfect, monkey flung off, life...just know there are plenty where that one came from. My life is by any measure NOT perfect.
One monkey at a time.
Even though I tend to want to take on the whole zoo in one massive, life altering, glorious, hard left turning change, the world in general, seems not to want to cooperate.
So I will settle for one at time, and be glad it's gone.
And really hope we didn't just make room for a new one. Hardee har har. That would be a drag!
So if you've been putting it off...just start. This particular monkey fling has been MONTHS in the making, but if we hadn't started...well I'd be carting that thing around my neck right now.
Love ya'!
~Sherri
P.S. My reward for this??? Spending the day at one of those tortuous kid places full of LOUD video games and go carts with my boys. They won a trip from our charter school. Good test scores or something useless like that. I'll be bringing the Advil. You can find me at the picnic bench in the shady corner.
Monday, October 25, 2010
cookie bars with a dash of paranoia
So today, I let 2 strange men into my home. It helped that they had been scheduled. That they were expected. Wearing uniforms and carrying a clipboard. That they were bringing a replacement TV for the piece of junk Samsung was passing off as a TV a year and a half ago. But still. I detest having people in my house for deliveries, repairs or installations. Cleaning, well, my tolerance shoots way up for that category.
First off, they are always MEN who are delivering, installing and repairing. Not once in the 25 years that I've been in charge of getting stuff done has it been a woman. Second, these things always have to occur during the week which means Bill is generally at work. What educated, savvy woman flings open her door to complete strange men types? Thirdly, they always expect me to know lots of things I don't. Like where was the last cable run? Where is your water main? Will it be okay to drill a hole through the wall? Fourth, they have occasionally been...condescending...like the water heater delivery/installation dude who wanted to just go ahead and flood my garage because he didn't want to wait for the thing to drain properly (and slowly) through a hose out into the gutter. He actually rolled his eyes when I said...'Uh, no? Let me call someone and see if that's okay.' Unable to get Bill on the phone, I was able to get my trusty brother-in-law on the phone who then chewed the guy a new one for me. Gotta love family. And finally, what if they're really casing the joint? Looking to see how to best get in later to murder us all in our sleep??? I'm just sayin'. A little paranoid. I think it's all those Ellery Queen Mystery shows my dad let me watch when I was little. Timothy Hutton's dad sure was handsome though. And I do go through my whole house afterwards making sure they didn't leave a window unlocked for later. Welcome to my little corner of insanity. It's cozy here. And why I told Evan to look Very Big while they were here.
AND, because Judy and I both feel guilty about throwing our recyclables into the trash...here's my blue ribbon winning Chocolate Chip Cookie Bar recipe. If there is someone who is just not letting you off the hook...make 'em some of these. It might help smooth things over.
I bake these in a 15" x 9 3/4"ish black jellyroll pan. It's one my grandma gave me one day, so I have no idea where it came from. I mention this only because some people swear the pan must be what makes these awesome. I'm not so sure because I've baked them in other pans too, you just have to sort of adjust your cooking time if the size is different.
You'll need:
2 1/4 cups flour (Don't just scoop it out with your measuring cup, that packs it in and then your cookies will be dough heavy. I'm all about less dough and MORE CHOCOLATE. Kind of fluff up your floor and then spoon it into the measuring cup with a big serving spoon like I do.)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened (Use regular, salted butter. Don't even think about margarine. It won't taste as good.)
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup PACKED dark brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract (Again, use the real stuff. It's probably the difference between blue ribbon and honorable mention.)
2 large eggs
2 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips (I get mine in the huge bag at Sam's club so I have no idea if this translates handily into a smaller bag size from the grocery.)
Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.
Mix together the flour, baking soda and salt in a smallish bowl. Use a whisk to mix and sift the ingredients together.
In a different bowl (I use my Kitchen Aid mixer. I love that thing. Worth every cent it cost. Unlike the worthless TV...), beat together the butter, sugars and vanilla. Add the eggs and beat some more. Gradually beat in the flour. You can do all this by hand by the way, I have, and the cookies still rock. Stir in the chocolate chips.
Spread dough into a greased (I just use Pam) jelly roll pan. Bake for 15 minutes. They will be a nice golden/light brown all across. Cool, in pan, on a wire rack. Divide the pan up into however many servings you want and enjoy with some icy cold milk!
Love ya!
~S
First off, they are always MEN who are delivering, installing and repairing. Not once in the 25 years that I've been in charge of getting stuff done has it been a woman. Second, these things always have to occur during the week which means Bill is generally at work. What educated, savvy woman flings open her door to complete strange men types? Thirdly, they always expect me to know lots of things I don't. Like where was the last cable run? Where is your water main? Will it be okay to drill a hole through the wall? Fourth, they have occasionally been...condescending...like the water heater delivery/installation dude who wanted to just go ahead and flood my garage because he didn't want to wait for the thing to drain properly (and slowly) through a hose out into the gutter. He actually rolled his eyes when I said...'Uh, no? Let me call someone and see if that's okay.' Unable to get Bill on the phone, I was able to get my trusty brother-in-law on the phone who then chewed the guy a new one for me. Gotta love family. And finally, what if they're really casing the joint? Looking to see how to best get in later to murder us all in our sleep??? I'm just sayin'. A little paranoid. I think it's all those Ellery Queen Mystery shows my dad let me watch when I was little. Timothy Hutton's dad sure was handsome though. And I do go through my whole house afterwards making sure they didn't leave a window unlocked for later. Welcome to my little corner of insanity. It's cozy here. And why I told Evan to look Very Big while they were here.
AND, because Judy and I both feel guilty about throwing our recyclables into the trash...here's my blue ribbon winning Chocolate Chip Cookie Bar recipe. If there is someone who is just not letting you off the hook...make 'em some of these. It might help smooth things over.
I bake these in a 15" x 9 3/4"ish black jellyroll pan. It's one my grandma gave me one day, so I have no idea where it came from. I mention this only because some people swear the pan must be what makes these awesome. I'm not so sure because I've baked them in other pans too, you just have to sort of adjust your cooking time if the size is different.
You'll need:
2 1/4 cups flour (Don't just scoop it out with your measuring cup, that packs it in and then your cookies will be dough heavy. I'm all about less dough and MORE CHOCOLATE. Kind of fluff up your floor and then spoon it into the measuring cup with a big serving spoon like I do.)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened (Use regular, salted butter. Don't even think about margarine. It won't taste as good.)
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup PACKED dark brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract (Again, use the real stuff. It's probably the difference between blue ribbon and honorable mention.)
2 large eggs
2 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips (I get mine in the huge bag at Sam's club so I have no idea if this translates handily into a smaller bag size from the grocery.)
Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.
Mix together the flour, baking soda and salt in a smallish bowl. Use a whisk to mix and sift the ingredients together.
In a different bowl (I use my Kitchen Aid mixer. I love that thing. Worth every cent it cost. Unlike the worthless TV...), beat together the butter, sugars and vanilla. Add the eggs and beat some more. Gradually beat in the flour. You can do all this by hand by the way, I have, and the cookies still rock. Stir in the chocolate chips.
Spread dough into a greased (I just use Pam) jelly roll pan. Bake for 15 minutes. They will be a nice golden/light brown all across. Cool, in pan, on a wire rack. Divide the pan up into however many servings you want and enjoy with some icy cold milk!
Love ya!
~S
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Confession #43
Hello blogworld. I've missed you.
Confession #43: I don't recycle when it rains.
Here's why - I can safely deposit trash into the outside trash bin from the (dry) doorway of my garage side door. The recycle bin requires that I leave the comfort of being 100% dry and walk maybe 6 feet over wet concrete and under a wet dripping roof edge, unless it's actually raining, and then, well, the raindrops get me too. I, like the Very Bad Cat Layla, don't like being wet and cold. (I'll introduce you to VBCLayla sometime. She's a mean girl.)
And yes, I do feel a little guilty each and every time I toss my flattened cardboard boxes, glass bottles, and recyclable plastic (no widemouthed containers please) into the trash bin. I think this I can squarely blame on my parents. BTW I am not a fan of parent-blaming since I am now the parent of 3 future potential blamers. While the 3 R's are very popular and PC now...Reduce, Reuse, Recycle...I had hippie parents in the 70's and we were into the big E and WC. Ecology and Water Conservation. We also practiced Use It Up, Wear It Out, and Make Do way before it was chic to 'shop your own closet' for a new outfit. But I think that's mostly because my parents, having both decided a college education would be helpful, returned to school in my youth. We were broke man. As an adult, I have to say, it has been useful to know how to be green before it was movie star cool, and to use it up, wear it out, and make do. But I like to call it Being Resourceful.
Got a confession you'd like to get off your chest? I'm here for you!!! Before you go getting all sappy and Sherri loves me, please know that I have discovered that it is way more fun than I anticipated seeing that I have a comment on here. I know. Kind of pitiful. But a happy pitiful. Which makes it a win-win sort of thing. You feel better, I feel better. Leave me your confessions....please?!
xoxo
~Sherri
Confession #43: I don't recycle when it rains.
Here's why - I can safely deposit trash into the outside trash bin from the (dry) doorway of my garage side door. The recycle bin requires that I leave the comfort of being 100% dry and walk maybe 6 feet over wet concrete and under a wet dripping roof edge, unless it's actually raining, and then, well, the raindrops get me too. I, like the Very Bad Cat Layla, don't like being wet and cold. (I'll introduce you to VBCLayla sometime. She's a mean girl.)
And yes, I do feel a little guilty each and every time I toss my flattened cardboard boxes, glass bottles, and recyclable plastic (no widemouthed containers please) into the trash bin. I think this I can squarely blame on my parents. BTW I am not a fan of parent-blaming since I am now the parent of 3 future potential blamers. While the 3 R's are very popular and PC now...Reduce, Reuse, Recycle...I had hippie parents in the 70's and we were into the big E and WC. Ecology and Water Conservation. We also practiced Use It Up, Wear It Out, and Make Do way before it was chic to 'shop your own closet' for a new outfit. But I think that's mostly because my parents, having both decided a college education would be helpful, returned to school in my youth. We were broke man. As an adult, I have to say, it has been useful to know how to be green before it was movie star cool, and to use it up, wear it out, and make do. But I like to call it Being Resourceful.
Got a confession you'd like to get off your chest? I'm here for you!!! Before you go getting all sappy and Sherri loves me, please know that I have discovered that it is way more fun than I anticipated seeing that I have a comment on here. I know. Kind of pitiful. But a happy pitiful. Which makes it a win-win sort of thing. You feel better, I feel better. Leave me your confessions....please?!
xoxo
~Sherri
Friday, October 15, 2010
Tick tock you're almost off the clock!
Finally!
Friday afternoon has graced us with its presence.
Several times over this past week I didn't think we were going to make it to Friday without an Incident.
You know, the type that results in yellow crime tape, orange prison jumpsuits and a padded room.
But here we are.
Whew. Good thing too.
I'm pretty sure that's a collective sigh of relief I just heard, because I am not the only one who has suffered at the hands of this wicked week.
In my little corner of the world, nothing says "Hellooo, Gorgeous Weekend" like chips, salsa and an ice-cold something to sip on.
So make some SALSA and usher in the weekend properly.
28oz. can whole tomatoes - do NOT drain this baby
2 cans(10 oz.) Rotel tomatoes and chiles - 1 mild, 1 original
1/4 red onion, chopped
1 clove garlic
1-2 whole jalapenos, quartered (don't cry to me if you rub your eyes, privates, etc. after you touch these because it will burn like a mother and you have been warned!)
1/4 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt (I like big kosher salt. It makes me feel cool and doesn't cost much.)
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1 bunch cilantro
juice from 1/2 lime (I think it's mighty convenient that this leaves the other lime half for drinks.)
Toss it all into your blender or food processor and pulse, don't turn it on and let it run, pulse it, 10 to 15 times for the consistency you'd like. Take it for a spin and see if you want to adjust any of the seasonings.
Now here's my little list of salsa insider trading tips...I use one whole jalapeno, seeds and all. Pulse it about half the number of times and taste it. You may or may not want to add part or all of the other pepper. Their heat varies a lot, and I like mine pretty spicy. If you are a mild sort of salsa person, who am I to judge. Just be sure to remove the seeds and membranes to eliminate most of the jalapeno's heat in the beginning. I'm sure you all know to rinse the cilantro and cut off the stems right?! You can also use less than a full bunch of cilantro if you like less. I like a lot!!!
Be sure to cut up the other half of the lime into wedges to stick in your diet Coke, Corona or whatever else goes with chips and salsa in your mind.
Have a fantabulous weekend!!!
~S
Friday afternoon has graced us with its presence.
Several times over this past week I didn't think we were going to make it to Friday without an Incident.
You know, the type that results in yellow crime tape, orange prison jumpsuits and a padded room.
But here we are.
Whew. Good thing too.
I'm pretty sure that's a collective sigh of relief I just heard, because I am not the only one who has suffered at the hands of this wicked week.
In my little corner of the world, nothing says "Hellooo, Gorgeous Weekend" like chips, salsa and an ice-cold something to sip on.
So make some SALSA and usher in the weekend properly.
28oz. can whole tomatoes - do NOT drain this baby
2 cans(10 oz.) Rotel tomatoes and chiles - 1 mild, 1 original
1/4 red onion, chopped
1 clove garlic
1-2 whole jalapenos, quartered (don't cry to me if you rub your eyes, privates, etc. after you touch these because it will burn like a mother and you have been warned!)
1/4 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt (I like big kosher salt. It makes me feel cool and doesn't cost much.)
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1 bunch cilantro
juice from 1/2 lime (I think it's mighty convenient that this leaves the other lime half for drinks.)
Toss it all into your blender or food processor and pulse, don't turn it on and let it run, pulse it, 10 to 15 times for the consistency you'd like. Take it for a spin and see if you want to adjust any of the seasonings.
Now here's my little list of salsa insider trading tips...I use one whole jalapeno, seeds and all. Pulse it about half the number of times and taste it. You may or may not want to add part or all of the other pepper. Their heat varies a lot, and I like mine pretty spicy. If you are a mild sort of salsa person, who am I to judge. Just be sure to remove the seeds and membranes to eliminate most of the jalapeno's heat in the beginning. I'm sure you all know to rinse the cilantro and cut off the stems right?! You can also use less than a full bunch of cilantro if you like less. I like a lot!!!
Be sure to cut up the other half of the lime into wedges to stick in your diet Coke, Corona or whatever else goes with chips and salsa in your mind.
Have a fantabulous weekend!!!
~S
Thursday, October 14, 2010
comfort food & Emerson
Yesterday was really a mixed bag.
The miners were out!
But I didn't get to watch any of the coverage because I happen to be a mother with typical kids.
One nagging challenge solved in a most perfect way.
Followed by the phone call that precluded watching the miners.
So what to do with a day like that? I'm too old and wise for things I may have once sought. So first I re-read this little nugget of wisdom from Ralph Waldo Emerson (how can you not love that name?!)
I have this little poem of his on a magnet on my refrigerator. It reminds me not to kill anyone when they are doing something really idiotic. Including me.
finish each day and be done
with it. you have done what you
could. some blunders and
absurdities have crept in;
forget them as soon as you can.
tomorrow is a new day. you shall
begin it serenely and with too
high a spirit to be encumbered
with your old nonsense.
-emerson
Then, with my mom hat on, I spun two of my plates into one and fulfilled my dinner making obligations by feeding the familia my favorite comfort food!
This is a practically perfect Mac N Cheese recipe. Perfection has alluded me, but I've got time. Until then, after a gnarly day, I'll make this one out of one of Trisha Yearwood's cookbooks.
8 oz. elbow macaroni, cooked BTW I hardly ever us elbow, I usually pick some that looks more fun just to entertain myself.
1 12oz. can evaporated milk
1 1/2 cups whole milk
2 large eggs, beaten (particularly a good ingredient when your mad...)
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted (please use regular old salted butter, nothing fancy, it's mac n cheese for Pete's sake)
1 teaspoon salt
Dash of pepper
2 10oz. bricks, sharp Cheddar cheese, grated (about 5 cups) okay, it's a really good thing she included that little tip about it being 5 cups, because out here in Cali, they don't sell 10 oz bricks of cheese at the local grocery)
Dash of paprika I was in a hurry last night and didn't use any paprika. I don't think anybody suffered expect maybe the paprika farmer.
Her directions call for making this in a crockpot, but so far all crock'd mac and cheeses have a weird texture and I didn't think I could handle any more disappointment last night, so I baked it!
Here's how...Preheat your oven to 350F, mix all the ingredients EXCEPT the paprika and 1/2 cup of the cheese in a large bowl (I used the pot I boiled the macaroni in - less dishes). Pour it all into a greased 9x13 pan, sprinkle the 1/2 cup cheese across the top, get in a rush, forget to sprinkle on the paprika and bake at 350 for 50 minutes. Pull it out of the oven when the timer beeps and carb out. Your troubles will melt away.
If you want to crock it, A-let me know if it has that weird lumpy cheese texture, and B-here's how to do that...do all the same things except pour it into your crockpot (I'd probably grease mine, because I'm lazy that way), sprinkle the 1/2 cup cheese across the top, cover and cook on low for 3 hours and 15 minutes. Turn off the crockpot, stir and serve.
Doing my best to remain unencumbered with nonsense today...
xoxoxo
~S
The miners were out!
But I didn't get to watch any of the coverage because I happen to be a mother with typical kids.
One nagging challenge solved in a most perfect way.
Followed by the phone call that precluded watching the miners.
So what to do with a day like that? I'm too old and wise for things I may have once sought. So first I re-read this little nugget of wisdom from Ralph Waldo Emerson (how can you not love that name?!)
I have this little poem of his on a magnet on my refrigerator. It reminds me not to kill anyone when they are doing something really idiotic. Including me.
finish each day and be done
with it. you have done what you
could. some blunders and
absurdities have crept in;
forget them as soon as you can.
tomorrow is a new day. you shall
begin it serenely and with too
high a spirit to be encumbered
with your old nonsense.
-emerson
Then, with my mom hat on, I spun two of my plates into one and fulfilled my dinner making obligations by feeding the familia my favorite comfort food!
This is a practically perfect Mac N Cheese recipe. Perfection has alluded me, but I've got time. Until then, after a gnarly day, I'll make this one out of one of Trisha Yearwood's cookbooks.
8 oz. elbow macaroni, cooked BTW I hardly ever us elbow, I usually pick some that looks more fun just to entertain myself.
1 12oz. can evaporated milk
1 1/2 cups whole milk
2 large eggs, beaten (particularly a good ingredient when your mad...)
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted (please use regular old salted butter, nothing fancy, it's mac n cheese for Pete's sake)
1 teaspoon salt
Dash of pepper
2 10oz. bricks, sharp Cheddar cheese, grated (about 5 cups) okay, it's a really good thing she included that little tip about it being 5 cups, because out here in Cali, they don't sell 10 oz bricks of cheese at the local grocery)
Dash of paprika I was in a hurry last night and didn't use any paprika. I don't think anybody suffered expect maybe the paprika farmer.
Her directions call for making this in a crockpot, but so far all crock'd mac and cheeses have a weird texture and I didn't think I could handle any more disappointment last night, so I baked it!
Here's how...Preheat your oven to 350F, mix all the ingredients EXCEPT the paprika and 1/2 cup of the cheese in a large bowl (I used the pot I boiled the macaroni in - less dishes). Pour it all into a greased 9x13 pan, sprinkle the 1/2 cup cheese across the top, get in a rush, forget to sprinkle on the paprika and bake at 350 for 50 minutes. Pull it out of the oven when the timer beeps and carb out. Your troubles will melt away.
If you want to crock it, A-let me know if it has that weird lumpy cheese texture, and B-here's how to do that...do all the same things except pour it into your crockpot (I'd probably grease mine, because I'm lazy that way), sprinkle the 1/2 cup cheese across the top, cover and cook on low for 3 hours and 15 minutes. Turn off the crockpot, stir and serve.
Doing my best to remain unencumbered with nonsense today...
xoxoxo
~S
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Go Ahead Wednesday - I DARE you...
I started off this day with a long, dark post all about why Wednesdays and I don't get along.
But it didn't quite feel right, so I sat on it.
Then I got a great phone call of good news and rewrote, feeling lighthearted.
Then my phone rang again.
And in the way only a Wednesday can, the joy was sucked right out of the room.
So I guess DARING Wednesday to be its usual self was not the way to go.
Consider me schooled.
Waiting for it to be Thursday,
~S
But it didn't quite feel right, so I sat on it.
Then I got a great phone call of good news and rewrote, feeling lighthearted.
Then my phone rang again.
And in the way only a Wednesday can, the joy was sucked right out of the room.
So I guess DARING Wednesday to be its usual self was not the way to go.
Consider me schooled.
Waiting for it to be Thursday,
~S
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
I'm in trouble now!
Uh oh...I have figured out how to fiddle with the background controls...I feel a major time suck coming...it's going to be a good time waster though!
Now that it looks a little more like October 'round here, we need to celebrate my favorite month of the year. So for those of us who were born in this lovely fall month, that's ROCKtober for you and me, and if you have a long lasting love with your crockpot (as I do) it's also CROCKtober. Hmmm, tap, tap, tap, I got nuthin'. If you have any, you better post them!!!
Well, since it's CROCKtober and all, here's a little CROCKpot recipe. (By the way I think we are officially supposed to call them slow cookers to be PC and all, but whatever. Roll your eyes here. We all know they were popular in the 70's and they are crockpots! Don't even get me started about the Kleenex/tissues debacle.)
Crock'd Italian Chicken
Start this in the morning so it can cook all day on low.
Or start it at lunchtime, but cook it on high, all afternoon.
Buy a big package of chicken thighs at the grocery. Take off the skin if you want. I do. If you don't happen to be feeding 2 teenagers and an 11 year old who makes them look bad at the dinner table, go ahead and buy yours already skinned.
Get out a couple cans of diced tomatoes (not the big doorstop size, the usual, slightly bigger than a soup can size - I am so not going out to my pantry to check the ounces - but this isn't rocket science so you can't really screw it up!)
Pour 1/2 of a can of your diced tomatoes into the bottom of your crockpot.
Add 1/2 the thighs and the other 1/2 can of tomatoes.
Break out your Italian spices: like oregano, basil, garlic salt (if you've got 2 extra minutes, press a clove of garlic and use a little kosher salt, but the garlic salt is fine, remember this baby is a 70's darling and NOTHING was fresh in the 70's, except maybe Burt Reynolds).
I usually mix and match whatever Italian spices I have on hand and fill up the little quarter size crook of my palm with the Italian spices. Then, over the chicken and tomatoes already in the crock, rub your hands together crushing the spices. Emeril swears this releases the flavor of dried spices and I believe him. He's Emeril.
Add the rest of the thighs and the other can of diced tomatoes. Throw in some more spices.
Put the lid on, make sure that crockpot is set on low, and go do something fun all day long. Or, if you must, go to work, but at least you'll come home to a house that smells really good. (If you do this at lunchtime and go the matinee, put it on high, so you're not eating raw chicken, which is a Bad Idea.)
You can serve this over pasta, next to bread, garlic bread, garlic cheese bread, whatever makes you happy. Rip open a bag of salad or steam some green veggies and call it dinner. This feeds my hungry family of 5 with a little leftovers. More people? Serve it with all of the above.
Just don't do this with chicken breasts. Well, you can. But they'll be dry. Every time. Or maybe that's just my experience. Anyhow, I've served this even when my kids' friends have been over, and everyone always likes it. Which is a good thing.
Oh, and I cook this in one of those big oval crockpots.
Happy CROCKtober!
~S
Now that it looks a little more like October 'round here, we need to celebrate my favorite month of the year. So for those of us who were born in this lovely fall month, that's ROCKtober for you and me, and if you have a long lasting love with your crockpot (as I do) it's also CROCKtober. Hmmm, tap, tap, tap, I got nuthin'. If you have any, you better post them!!!
Well, since it's CROCKtober and all, here's a little CROCKpot recipe. (By the way I think we are officially supposed to call them slow cookers to be PC and all, but whatever. Roll your eyes here. We all know they were popular in the 70's and they are crockpots! Don't even get me started about the Kleenex/tissues debacle.)
Crock'd Italian Chicken
Start this in the morning so it can cook all day on low.
Or start it at lunchtime, but cook it on high, all afternoon.
Buy a big package of chicken thighs at the grocery. Take off the skin if you want. I do. If you don't happen to be feeding 2 teenagers and an 11 year old who makes them look bad at the dinner table, go ahead and buy yours already skinned.
Get out a couple cans of diced tomatoes (not the big doorstop size, the usual, slightly bigger than a soup can size - I am so not going out to my pantry to check the ounces - but this isn't rocket science so you can't really screw it up!)
Pour 1/2 of a can of your diced tomatoes into the bottom of your crockpot.
Add 1/2 the thighs and the other 1/2 can of tomatoes.
Break out your Italian spices: like oregano, basil, garlic salt (if you've got 2 extra minutes, press a clove of garlic and use a little kosher salt, but the garlic salt is fine, remember this baby is a 70's darling and NOTHING was fresh in the 70's, except maybe Burt Reynolds).
I usually mix and match whatever Italian spices I have on hand and fill up the little quarter size crook of my palm with the Italian spices. Then, over the chicken and tomatoes already in the crock, rub your hands together crushing the spices. Emeril swears this releases the flavor of dried spices and I believe him. He's Emeril.
Add the rest of the thighs and the other can of diced tomatoes. Throw in some more spices.
Put the lid on, make sure that crockpot is set on low, and go do something fun all day long. Or, if you must, go to work, but at least you'll come home to a house that smells really good. (If you do this at lunchtime and go the matinee, put it on high, so you're not eating raw chicken, which is a Bad Idea.)
You can serve this over pasta, next to bread, garlic bread, garlic cheese bread, whatever makes you happy. Rip open a bag of salad or steam some green veggies and call it dinner. This feeds my hungry family of 5 with a little leftovers. More people? Serve it with all of the above.
Just don't do this with chicken breasts. Well, you can. But they'll be dry. Every time. Or maybe that's just my experience. Anyhow, I've served this even when my kids' friends have been over, and everyone always likes it. Which is a good thing.
Oh, and I cook this in one of those big oval crockpots.
Happy CROCKtober!
~S
Monday, October 11, 2010
No reason I can think of.
That is the answer to why do jumping spiders exist??? Eww. Ack. Probably just because they are so good at making me shriek, leap, and generally wig out as I'm trying to kill one in my house. Do you think they are enjoying the entertainment rolling their nasty little multi-faceted eyes with each and every little jump as I jump and shriek just after? If truly there was something to despise...it's a jumping spider. Yuck. Ick. Bleh. I think I need to lay down (lie down?) for the rest of the afternoon to fully recover from the spider killing. Oh yes, I did get that little sucker, make no mistake about it. I just had to freak out the entire time.
From my now spider free home,
~S
From my now spider free home,
~S
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Totally an owl, married to a lark.
Hello blog world. We have been langorously, lounging on our favorite beach for the last 5 days. It was everything it should be and that we needed. We go every October and I hope we do for.ev.er. As our kids grow up, get married, have kids of their own. We all need to spend a week in Carpinteria in October every single year. Please don't argue with me on this. It is non-negotiable.
I've always been a nightowl. Very nocturnal. I'm pretty sure I can count the number of sunrises I've seen on one hand. Mostly due to my husband's vacation departure time preferences. Because he is definitely a morning person. Somehow, we manage to compliment each other though. I just read a little article about what your sleep preferences say about you as a person. Owl's tend to be risk takers, wish people would refrain from speaking before they have gulped down that first cup of coffee and tend to be most productive mid-morning and late evening. Yes, yes and yes. When I lived with my fabulous grandparents my first couple of years in college, I remember asking my mom if she could please ask my grandma not to talk to me so much in the morning. Mind you, they travelled about 9 months out of the year, so we aren't talking about that many mornings. Anyhow, I'm sure my mother, in her wisdom, just let it be and figured someday I would grow up and be less self-absorbed. Larks tend to wake prior to their alarms, are raring to go straight out of bed and are at their finest early in the morning. They also tend to be depressed. Very interesting I think. Somehow, the man and I make it work out. Mostly because he happens to be the kindest person on the planet and I am truly scary before my cup o' joe wake up. Smart man is all I'm sayin'. Love him to the moon and back.
They also talked about dreamers. Do you dream vividly? Can you remember them in the morning? If yes, well then your boundaries are blurry. Not fully awake or asleep. No black and white, just shades of gray. Not clearly a Republican or a Democrat. Odd, quirky, creative. Okay, I'll take that. It was the tendency toward schizophrenia that was a bit of a drawback.
So who are you? A dreaming owl like me? A lark? A restless sleeper? It all seemed to line up with the characters in our household. How about you? The article is on msn right now. Take a peek. Let me know.
Love you loads!
~S
I've always been a nightowl. Very nocturnal. I'm pretty sure I can count the number of sunrises I've seen on one hand. Mostly due to my husband's vacation departure time preferences. Because he is definitely a morning person. Somehow, we manage to compliment each other though. I just read a little article about what your sleep preferences say about you as a person. Owl's tend to be risk takers, wish people would refrain from speaking before they have gulped down that first cup of coffee and tend to be most productive mid-morning and late evening. Yes, yes and yes. When I lived with my fabulous grandparents my first couple of years in college, I remember asking my mom if she could please ask my grandma not to talk to me so much in the morning. Mind you, they travelled about 9 months out of the year, so we aren't talking about that many mornings. Anyhow, I'm sure my mother, in her wisdom, just let it be and figured someday I would grow up and be less self-absorbed. Larks tend to wake prior to their alarms, are raring to go straight out of bed and are at their finest early in the morning. They also tend to be depressed. Very interesting I think. Somehow, the man and I make it work out. Mostly because he happens to be the kindest person on the planet and I am truly scary before my cup o' joe wake up. Smart man is all I'm sayin'. Love him to the moon and back.
They also talked about dreamers. Do you dream vividly? Can you remember them in the morning? If yes, well then your boundaries are blurry. Not fully awake or asleep. No black and white, just shades of gray. Not clearly a Republican or a Democrat. Odd, quirky, creative. Okay, I'll take that. It was the tendency toward schizophrenia that was a bit of a drawback.
So who are you? A dreaming owl like me? A lark? A restless sleeper? It all seemed to line up with the characters in our household. How about you? The article is on msn right now. Take a peek. Let me know.
Love you loads!
~S
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Wildcats, Volleyball and One Smelly Gym
Yesterday I spent the glorious, prime hours of my day in...a really hot, really stagnant, pretty stinky gym. And I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world! That was my girl, her JV Volleyball team, down there on the courts. DOMINATING. UNDEFEATED all morning. Beat every team in their division. Twice. Sometimes they mopped the floor with their competitors, sometimes they had to work a bit harder. Once, we thought we were down for the count, but rallied, and took over the score board. It was glorious. Fun. Teamwork and confident playing.
Some of the parents of our girls thought since we were the only team in both divisions to be undefeated that we should take the 1st place trophy and let everyone else duke it out for 2nd and 3rd. Part of me thought so too. But alas, that is not how tournament volleyball rolls. In fact, it rolls about 50 different ways, and I mostly don't get what's going on yet, but at least I can tell every tournament sponsor has several different ways to do things that must be officially acceptable. But back to my girl and her Wildcat team.
We sat out the first game of bracket play since we won our division. And then...a few games in, and 3 distinctly BAD CALLS...we lost. We were out. That quick. Despite the fact that we still had the best game record for the entire day. Unfair we cried. Bad reffing cost us the 1st place spot. But my devil's advocate said...if we had really been smoking that other team those 3 calls wouldn't have been the game. We sighed. We talked about how unfair it was. Our girls showed their tremendously abundant good sportmanship and did us proud. We took our 3rd place, took a team photo, and got the heck out of that 95 degree gym and into our air conditioned cars for the long ride home.
That's when I started thinking about fairness (and why for everything wonderful could we not find a drive-thru for a coke and fries?!). How life just sometimes isn't F.A.I.R. The good guy doesn't always win. And I began to wonder if this is why we Americans take our sports so seriously. Why our athletes are almost like royalty from the Little League fields, to the high schools and for sure the pros. It is the one place where the rules are clearly defined. Where skill, talent, hard work and determination are most certainly rewarded. That is the American credo after all. Work hard, be diligent, do the absolute best you are capable of, and surely success will come. It's a lofty ideal. A good one. It is why our country ROCKS! Something I try and instill in my children. And yet, it doesn't always play out that way in the field of life.
So we must always dig a little deeper. Know ourselves well enough to know we did all we could and still respect ourselves in the morning! Smile people! Throw a little football on the TV tonight, have a little bean dip and a cold drink and cheer like mad!!!
Some of the parents of our girls thought since we were the only team in both divisions to be undefeated that we should take the 1st place trophy and let everyone else duke it out for 2nd and 3rd. Part of me thought so too. But alas, that is not how tournament volleyball rolls. In fact, it rolls about 50 different ways, and I mostly don't get what's going on yet, but at least I can tell every tournament sponsor has several different ways to do things that must be officially acceptable. But back to my girl and her Wildcat team.
We sat out the first game of bracket play since we won our division. And then...a few games in, and 3 distinctly BAD CALLS...we lost. We were out. That quick. Despite the fact that we still had the best game record for the entire day. Unfair we cried. Bad reffing cost us the 1st place spot. But my devil's advocate said...if we had really been smoking that other team those 3 calls wouldn't have been the game. We sighed. We talked about how unfair it was. Our girls showed their tremendously abundant good sportmanship and did us proud. We took our 3rd place, took a team photo, and got the heck out of that 95 degree gym and into our air conditioned cars for the long ride home.
That's when I started thinking about fairness (and why for everything wonderful could we not find a drive-thru for a coke and fries?!). How life just sometimes isn't F.A.I.R. The good guy doesn't always win. And I began to wonder if this is why we Americans take our sports so seriously. Why our athletes are almost like royalty from the Little League fields, to the high schools and for sure the pros. It is the one place where the rules are clearly defined. Where skill, talent, hard work and determination are most certainly rewarded. That is the American credo after all. Work hard, be diligent, do the absolute best you are capable of, and surely success will come. It's a lofty ideal. A good one. It is why our country ROCKS! Something I try and instill in my children. And yet, it doesn't always play out that way in the field of life.
So we must always dig a little deeper. Know ourselves well enough to know we did all we could and still respect ourselves in the morning! Smile people! Throw a little football on the TV tonight, have a little bean dip and a cold drink and cheer like mad!!!
Friday, October 1, 2010
What size is your straight jacket?
Oh my friends, has it ever been a day. A week really. But sometimes things just all like to really come to a head at once. It's not just that we've been sick all week, culminating in doctor appointments, diagnoses of walking pneumonia and bronchitis, antibiotics and inhalers being prescribed, it's not just that we're preparing for a week away (and yes, all you burglars we do employ house/dog sitters who are here full-time, so don't even bother), it's not just that I had one day in which to do all that I would normally do over the course of a full week and while I still feel like a truck has run over me and squeezed out every ounce of energy, it's that the crazy, weather warning inducing storm, BLEW DOWN THE POOL FENCE. The very one that keeps all the neighborhood children from drowning. And that my friends, is what size my straight jacket is.
But since really, straight jackets are a bit limiting fashion-wise, I have decided to find a bright spot...or a few...first, I woke up on the right side of the dirt. Now when I start there, well, you just know it's been a rough go of things. Second, nobody did drown in the pool and it is almost back up. (Yay to my husband who can fix everything!) Third, well, I'm sort of stumped on a third because I'm so exhausted. So I guess we'll stick with waking up on the right side of the dirt AND no dead guys in my pool. Because either one of those things would REALLY wreak havoc.
Love ya'
~S
But since really, straight jackets are a bit limiting fashion-wise, I have decided to find a bright spot...or a few...first, I woke up on the right side of the dirt. Now when I start there, well, you just know it's been a rough go of things. Second, nobody did drown in the pool and it is almost back up. (Yay to my husband who can fix everything!) Third, well, I'm sort of stumped on a third because I'm so exhausted. So I guess we'll stick with waking up on the right side of the dirt AND no dead guys in my pool. Because either one of those things would REALLY wreak havoc.
Love ya'
~S
Thursday, September 30, 2010
And this is...
all about what? I'm not a big blogosphere hanger outer. Don't have the time. Which makes it a little hilarious that I've got a blog, right? But I do know most bloggers have a theme, some continuity, a purpose, to their blog. Even the woman who's blog seems to be all about why she can't stand the Pioneer Woman blog. Now me, I love PW. Good food, great horses, dogs, kids, photos, calf nuts, and a life that is so polar opposite mine on many levels and yet in some ways very similar. I'm not going to share the name of the PW hater blog because honestly...she's an angry woman who doesn't need any encouragement in my opinion. I'm actually sort of mortified that I may have added to her sense of purpose by accidentally finding her blog. Moving on.
So, what IS this blog of mine about? I don't know. Mostly noise reduction I think. There's a lot of noise, busyness, chatter, inside this red head of mine. Always has been. And no, I'm not having auditory hallucinations, flashbacks from my misspent youth, darn it. Although I am on a lot of cold meds today. But my experience as a writer tells me to keep plugging on and if there's meaning, purpose, fun and frivolity to be had, it will show it's pretty head and shake out in the end. And if not, we're no worse for the wear.
Then maybe...I try raising chickens instead. I want 4, 1 rooster and 3 laying hens. I'm going to call them Rod Stewart and the Supremes. (And yes, I totally stole that from the book The Wildwater Walking Club by Claire Cook, but why mess with perfection when you come across it?! BTW, you should definitely read that book. I loved it. It should be a movie.)
Love ya'!
~S
So, what IS this blog of mine about? I don't know. Mostly noise reduction I think. There's a lot of noise, busyness, chatter, inside this red head of mine. Always has been. And no, I'm not having auditory hallucinations, flashbacks from my misspent youth, darn it. Although I am on a lot of cold meds today. But my experience as a writer tells me to keep plugging on and if there's meaning, purpose, fun and frivolity to be had, it will show it's pretty head and shake out in the end. And if not, we're no worse for the wear.
Then maybe...I try raising chickens instead. I want 4, 1 rooster and 3 laying hens. I'm going to call them Rod Stewart and the Supremes. (And yes, I totally stole that from the book The Wildwater Walking Club by Claire Cook, but why mess with perfection when you come across it?! BTW, you should definitely read that book. I loved it. It should be a movie.)
Love ya'!
~S
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Just Admit It
I hate the moment when I have to admit, that indisputably, I Am Sick. It's like being conquered by an army of germs, and I really hate losing. In pretty much anything. Ask my husband. He doesn't like to play games with me because I gloat. I pout. And I've been known to cheat on occasion. I like to think I make up for all that bad behavior by being a whole lot of fun while playing. So anyhow, last night around 11pm, and since I'm stubborn and still wasn't willing to admit germ defeat, I whipped up a batch of Flu Fighter potion with my essential oils. I put a couple of drops on 2 cotton balls and slipped them into my pillowcase and my youngest boy's. He's sick too. Poor guy.
Flu Fighter Potion
6 drops Eucalyptus
4 drops Lavender
2 drops Peppermint
2 drops Rosemary
Mix all the oils together. You can put 3 drops in a diffuser, put 2 drops in a bath, add 3 drops to 2 teaspoons vegetable oil (I used good old canola oil from the pantry) and massage the oil onto the lung areas (chest and back). You can also put 2 drops on a cotton ball and slip it into your pillowcase at bedtime.
This handy little potion is not my own creation. It is straight out the book Aromatherapy through the Seasons by Judith Fitzsimmons and Paula M. Bousquet. It's a great starter aromatherapy book if you're interested. You get a bit of information about the properties of the essential oils and then great recipes for different things.
Today is one of my oldest, girlhood, friend's birthday. A little over a year ago, she suffered through a terrible tragedy. And because life happens, it has been far too long since I have called her to see how she is doing. That's one of those things they don't tell you about being the grown-up. It is busy. And there just isn't time for everything you used to and still want, to do. When we last spoke, she was casting out the seeds of bitterness that were trying to take root in her heart, and replacing them with love. She's like that. She inspires me that way.
So right after I apply some more Flu Fighter aromatherapy oil to my chest...I'm going to call my good friend A and thank her for being just who she is.
Flu Fighter Potion
6 drops Eucalyptus
4 drops Lavender
2 drops Peppermint
2 drops Rosemary
Mix all the oils together. You can put 3 drops in a diffuser, put 2 drops in a bath, add 3 drops to 2 teaspoons vegetable oil (I used good old canola oil from the pantry) and massage the oil onto the lung areas (chest and back). You can also put 2 drops on a cotton ball and slip it into your pillowcase at bedtime.
This handy little potion is not my own creation. It is straight out the book Aromatherapy through the Seasons by Judith Fitzsimmons and Paula M. Bousquet. It's a great starter aromatherapy book if you're interested. You get a bit of information about the properties of the essential oils and then great recipes for different things.
Today is one of my oldest, girlhood, friend's birthday. A little over a year ago, she suffered through a terrible tragedy. And because life happens, it has been far too long since I have called her to see how she is doing. That's one of those things they don't tell you about being the grown-up. It is busy. And there just isn't time for everything you used to and still want, to do. When we last spoke, she was casting out the seeds of bitterness that were trying to take root in her heart, and replacing them with love. She's like that. She inspires me that way.
So right after I apply some more Flu Fighter aromatherapy oil to my chest...I'm going to call my good friend A and thank her for being just who she is.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Dipping my toes right in...
Finally. Came up with a name not yet claimed. If you ever want to find out just how unoriginal you might be, try and create a blog. I dare you. But you're probably more creative. Well, as is usual, my 5 free minutes that rub next to each other are over and I am off to watch my daughter's volleyball game.
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