The Pennsylrican

Moving.

2011-08-25T13:41:00.000-04:00

Just a heads up, I'm moving this here blog to a different host. You can now find me here. Same lame content, shiny new package.

As soon as I can figure out how, I'll be moving all my old posts over there as well.

It's Latin for "By the day"

2011-06-29T21:05:00.000-04:00

Ok, so don't tell anyone, but I'm writing this while I'm at work.

I KNOW! I'm SUCH a bad ass!

I've previously mentioned the per diem Cat Scan/X-ray position I took at a local hospital (the hospital I worked at for five years, actually) back in November. Since then I've been working steadily a few days (or more than a few, depending on how many people want time off) a month, and the extra money has, needless to say, been very nice. Around Christmas I used it to buy a few last-minute holiday gifts, and it's certainly helped a time or two when I've been short after paying the bills, or if I "needed" a few things at Target or Sephora. It also helped pay for my travel and expenses during my recent over night trip to New York City, which I'll tell you all about soon, I promise.

Mostly, though, I've been saving the money, which I wasn't really able to do before. My savings account has been sort of languishing for a few years now, which most people who know anything about money would have a heart attack over. I have a good job and I make decent money, but the bills get paid, I buy groceries, and that's pretty much it. It's not easy being a single homeowner, dudes.

Anyway, with this added income comes the prospect of what to do with all of it. After I've saved up a bit, you best believe I will be purchasing ALL THE THINGS. Well, perhaps not all the things, but a fair few of them, including but not limited to:

1. A new refrigerator, finally. FI. NA. LY.

2. Bedroom furniture that wasn't built during the Reagan administration

3. A brand! New! Desktop! Computer! (You know I'm going Mac, babies), and finally...

4. A real, honest to God, get-me-the-HELL-out-of Pennsylvania vacation. I'm thinking the Florida Keys, but that could change.

Of course, I could hit the Powerball tomorrow and all my problems will be solved. Until then, however, I'm here, working. And dreaming about automatic ice makers.

On Holding Back, and Letting Go.

2011-06-26T14:14:00.002-04:00

A few years ago, I spent a lot of time around Yahoo -- in chat rooms (cringe) and on message boards, and on their first foray into the social media world and blogging platforms. I wrote about anything and everything. I shared my thoughts and goals, the minutiae of my everyday comings and goings, and my opinions on everything from pop culture to whether or not you should wear pajama bottoms to the grocery store.

By the way? No, you shouldn't. Put some real damn pants on, you lazy so-and-so.

The thing was, all that stuff I wrote? I was sharing with people I knew only from the internet. The few dozen or so faceless people I interacted with, that I considered friends, but had never actually met in person. These people knew a different side of me, a side I was a little afraid to share with my "real" friends, or family or coworkers. So, in my mind at least, it was almost as though what I was writing was safe. Safe from comment or derision, opinion, and most of all, repercussion.

I'm of two minds about what to share here anymore. I have things to talk about and to get off my chest, things that bother me and things I'd love to shout from the rooftops. But I know the things I say here aren't always safe to share, because you're not all faceless people from the internet. Many of the people that read this little blog are people that know me in person -- friends and coworkers, even family, and I'm afraid what I say might be misconstrued or cause hurt feelings, when most of what I would say wouldn't be more than just a way to get things off my chest, to open up, to air out my thoughts and vent my frustrations.

So what's a personal blogger to do? (Gah, I just internally cringed at calling myself that. One post a month does not a blogger make, young lady.) I've come to the conclusion that I can't keep holding things in. So, I'm going to try to open up more, and see where this takes me. I definitely won't be sharing everything here -- I do want to keep at least some aspect of my private life private -- but I think that sharing, talking, ranting, even confessing -- will help me more in the long run than keeping quiet for fear of upsetting anyone else.

A Conversation With My Mother That Didn't Actually Take Place But Totally Could Have (With Pictures).

2011-06-13T23:35:00.000-04:00

"Hi honey! Dad said the new brick border you guys put in yesterday looks really nice."

"Hi Momma. Yeah, it looks great, Daddy does good work. My legs are wicked sore though."

"I bet! He mentioned you were going to go to Lowe's for flowers?"

"Yeah, a few marigolds for the planters and a Shasta daisy to replace the one that didn't make the winter. Oh, and I got a Gerber daisy for the other planter. And some other stuff."

"What do you mean, other stuff?"

"Well, I know I said I wasn't going to bother, but the tomatoes were right there...."

"Uh-huh, how many did you buy?"

"Oh, just one, but I got some herbs too."

"What kind?"

"Basil, cilantro, some italian parsley, and mint."

"Wait. I know why you got the basil, parsley, and cilantro -- but what are you going to make with mint?"

"Duh, mom. Mojitos."

"That's my girl."

Fear

2011-05-12T10:53:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about fear. Ever since a Certain Bad Guy was killed in the Middle East, people have been talking about how "afraid" they are. Afraid of retribution, afraid of more war and higher gas prices (although that last one can't get much scarier). I'm not trying to get ultra political here -- I'll leave that sort of thing to people that actually know what they're talking about -- but I just don't understand this whole fear thing.

I mean, sure, I have fears -- snakes in toilets, sharks in pools (shut UP, it's legit), creepy clowns, weird old ladies, forced small talk -- but fear of the unknown? Fear of something that hasn't happened and there's no way of knowing if it ever will? I don't get that.

If we let our fears dictate our actions, if we all were afraid of what MIGHT happen, nothing WOULD happen. Fear is the enemy of progress, of discovery. Fear breeds ignorance and hatred. It's because of fear that it is legal for a government to spy on its own citizens and for an airport security guard to perform enhanced pat downs on children.

Sorry, political again.

You can't refuse to make tough decisions in your life because you're afraid of what might happen, of a future that's not yours to control in the first place. Because to give in to fear is to succumb to mediocrity. To give in to fear is to settle for what's comfortable, even though it's not why you truly want.

We're all afraid at times, in the dark unknown. The important thing is to have someone next to you to face it. Someone you love that loves you back, without doubt or pause.Someone to hold your hand and to light the way.

In Lieu of an Actual Post I'm Just Going to Skim Through Google Reader and Share Some Links.

2011-05-11T22:46:00.000-04:00

You ask where I've been and why I haven't posted in so long, and all I can tell you is, dudes. Busy. I've been working like a fiend lately. "Lately" meaning the past five months. I've been working a lot of days at my per diem job, and I'm lucky if I get one full weekend off a month, so yeah. Busy. Too busy to clean my house, too busy to visit my family, too busy to do a lot of things, least of all cook a mess of food. But I have kept up with my Google Reader, and my 'starred items' folder is positively bursting at the seams with yummy goodness just waiting for me to bust out my saute pan and Kitchen Aid Mixer.

Like this Indian Butter Chicken with Basmati Rice from Sugarcrafter. I've only just recently 'discovered' Indian food, and butter chicken is a favorite. I've also recently 'discovered' Thai food, and if you are what you eat, then you'll soon be reading the blog of a take out container of chicken pad thai.

These Lemony Roasted Potatoes with Garlic are the definition of comfort food around this house, and after my current 19-day stretch of work, work, and more work, I'm going to need some comforting.

Butterbeer Cake, also from Sugarcrafter (I like her). I made these Butterbeer cupcakes for my Oscar party back in February, and they were a huge hit. This recipe is slightly different, but I'd like to try it out, you know, strictly for scientific reasons. Cough. For those of you wondering, "WTF is Butterbeer?", would it kill you to read a damn book once in a while?

Because you can never go wrong with a classic, Joy the Baker's Vanilla Bean Cupcakes with Chocolate Buttercream sound like a winner. Ovaltine in the frosting? Did NOT see that coming.

I'm trying to branch out of the "sweet cakey treats" realm of baking, and learn how to bake yeast-based goods. These homemade English Muffins from Amy Bites seem like a good place to start.

Peanut Butter Banana Pound Cake with Nutella Glaze. I want to roll around naked in this. Seriously, that's just obscene.

And lest you think everything on my "to make" list is laden with calories and butter and sugar (and you'd be right), there's this Ribboned Asparagus Salad from Smitten Kitchen that will be coming out of MY kitchen sometime this weekend. Mmmm, asparagus. How I love you.

And that healthy salad will most likely be followed by these Lemon Sugar Cookies. Because there always needs to be cookies. But for now there is only sleep, and sweet anticipation.

If We Ever Meet In Person And You Wonder Why I'm Limping.

2011-05-10T07:46:00.002-04:00

In early February of 1999, I was 23 years old and in my second year of x-ray school. I was president of the Radiography class, and in addition to my school obligations, I had a job in a grocery store deli not far from home, so my schedule was pretty full. It was around 7 on a cold, crisp, sunny winter morning. I had just turned onto Route 715 not two miles from the house and started zooming down the road in my candy apple red 1993 Dodge Shadow. The roads were finally clean after a weekend snowstorm, and as I started around the curve past the the old dairy, I kicked the car into fourth gear and almost immediately regretted it.

The roads in Pennsylvania are famous for their patches of what's called "black ice", slippery spots of ice on the road that blend right into the black top, making travel dangerous at best, treacherous if you're late for your Radiographic Pathology class and taking turns on a country road just a tad too fast.

I hit the ice without realizing what had happened. The car swerved into the oncoming lane. Without thinking, I wrenched the steering wheel back to the right, and the car started going off the road. I slammed on my brakes with my right foot and braced myself for impact.

And impact I did. Right into a large oak tree, down in a slight ditch off the side of the road. I don't remember actually hitting the tree. One second the car was flying off the side of the road, and the next second I was looking at the trunk of a tree. I sat there for a second, trying to process what just happened to me, and then the panic took over. I had no idea if the car was okay, I had no idea if I was okay or what kind of injuries I had. My only thought was that I HAD TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR, IMMEDIATELY.

I undid the seatbelt and winced as it dislodged from where it had cut my neck on the left side. I tried to open my door and it wouldn't move. I slammed my left shoulder against it. Harder. The door didn't budge. I was still in panic mode, still wanting to get out of the car no matter what. I leaned over and tried the passenger door, which, thankfully opened, so I had a way out. I just had to get over there. I started to push myself out of the driver's seat and that's when I realized there was something wrong with my right foot. It just kind of...hung there.

I pushed that fact out of my mind and focused on the task at hand, namely getting out of the car. I climbed out of the driver's seat, over the stick shift, and across the passenger seat onto the snowy frozen ground. I pushed myself up onto my left foot, set my right leg down, and tried to put weight on my right foot. I figured out my ankle was broken by the way my lower leg folded in half.

I miraculously flagged down a passing car. I still to this day don't know how they saw me, in a ditch, behind my car, waving my arms frantically while jumping up and down on my good leg. The good Samaritan miraculously had a cell phone (not everyone had one back then), and he called my parents at home and the local ambulance company. I sat down on the ground and waited for the ambulance to arrive.

Despite the fact that I was standing on my good leg for a while, they put me on a backboard. Then they cut my jeans up my right leg because that's what you do in a trauma. You know, instead of asking the person who only had a damn broken leg and could do pretty much anything they'd want to roll her pant leg up. The ride to the hospital took forever, and the wait in the hallway outside the x-ray department was twice as long. Until they found out I was an x-ray student, then of COURSE they couldn't do enough for me.

Bygones.

We waited a couple hours (yes, hours) for an orthopedic consult, and the surgeon said I could try to get away with just casting, but to ensure the best healing possible, surgery was the way to go. So at around 3pm (yes, eight full hours after the accident), I went into surgery for what's called an ORIF (Open Reduction Internal Fixation) of my right ankle. It took nine screws and a plate to put my ankle back together. I spent the night in the hospital, and had a cast for six weeks. I didn't have great health insurance at the time so physical therapy and rehab weren't an option. About eight weeks after the injury I was allowed to go back to work at the deli and resume my clinical hours at the hospital.

The first week was excruciating to be on my feet. I'd go home after a shift and just cry, my foot hurt so bad. After two weeks or so the pain went away, and the limping decreased, but it never fully went away, and after a busy day of being on my feet it still hurts. My right ankle is scarred on both sides, and remains swollen to this day. I developed traumatic arthritis in the ankle, and at least four days out of the week I take an anti-inflammatory to help the pain.

I could get the screws and plate taken out if I wanted to, but at this point, 12 years later, it really wouldn't make that much of a difference, besides the fact that I can't afford to be out of work for more than two week. I've adjusted to life like this. I've learned to live with the pain and I barely notice the limp anymore, except when it rains. Something with the change in the weather really messes with the arthritis.

I hate when it rains. Almost as much as I hate black ice.

Peanut Butter Tandy Cakes (Or Candy Cakes)

2011-05-04T23:02:00.001-04:00

There's a baking company based in Philadelphia called Tastykake that makes delicious wrapped treats not unlike Hostess or Little Debbie. But, dudes. Tastykakes are so. Much. Better. Than. Little. Debbie. They have cupcakes, donuts, mini coffee cakes, delicious things called Butterscotch Krimpets, and my favorite, Peanut Butter Kandy Kakes. They're a small, round cake topped with peanut butter and enrobed in chocolate.

In other words, heaven.

There's been a homemade version of the Kandy Kakes around for ages; I only started making them within the past couple of years, and they've quickly become a favorite among my co-workers. The homemade version is called Tandy Cakes -- I don't know why, I just make them.

And now you can too!

You'll need:

1 cup whole milk
4 TB butter
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
pinch salt

1 1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
3 or 4 larger milk chocolate bars (I use Cadbury, but you don't have to.)

Preheat oven to 350. Spray a rimmed baking sheet (jelly roll pan) liberally with cooking spray and set aside.

Scald the milk, butter, and vanilla over medium low heat until the butter is melted and the milk is slightly bubbling. Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly.

Blend the eggs and sugar in a mixer well. Add cooled milk mixture and combine completely. Add flour, salt, and baking powder and mix thoroughly.

Spread the mixture in the baking sheet and bake for 20-25 minutes, until golden brown.

Take the cake out of the oven and top immediately with the peanut butter by dropping the peanut butter onto the hot cake by the spoonful, allow to melt, then spread.

Put the cake in the refrigerator and allow the peanut butter to set, at least 30 minutes.

Melt chocolate bars over a double boiler or in the microwave in 30 second intervals. Spread melted chocolate over the cooled cake.

Place cake back in the refrigerator and allow to set completely. Cut into squares and serve.

Yum. I need to make these again soon. You know, for my co-workers.

Awesome/Sucks

2011-04-04T22:56:00.000-04:00

Awesome:
Had a nice, quiet day with no emergencies, add-ons, or major screw-ups.

Sucks:
The rest of the office was so insanely busy and loud I ended up with a headache at the end of the day.

Awesome:
Lunch at JJ Wongs and coffee after work with a special friend (that's all you get, so shut it).

Sucks:
Watching my special friend drive away.

Awesome:
All the hours of work I'm getting from my per diem job, not to mention the pay.

Sucks:
I'm hardly home anymore, and am literally exhausted all. The. Time.

Awesome:
Got to hang out with old friends Saturday night at the casino. Won $35.

Sucks:
Left early due to aforementioned exhaustion.

Awesome:
Warmer weather, FINALLY.

Sucks:
Rain.

Awesome:
Lost 15 lbs.

Sucks:
Ate like I had a tapeworm all weekend.

Awesome:
I feel like blogging again.

Sucks:
This post.

Sorry dudes.

Take Me Home, Country Road.

2011-04-02T00:14:00.000-04:00

I drove up to my parent’s house after work today. I needed to pick up my finished tax return, and they were going out to dinner and invited me along. It was a nice late afternoon drive up route 33, the sun was trying to peek through the clouds that had been hanging around all day after a gloomy rain-soaked (and partly snowy!?) morning, and I was looking forward to my first full weekend off in three weeks. I decided to take a slightly different route to the homestead than I usually do, and drove through Sciota, Neola, and Reeders, three tiny little hamlets with weird Pennsylvania Dutch names, via my favorite thruway in the county, Neola Road.

Neola Road is one of those narrow country lanes you always read about but never drive on. It’s a winding, hilly 5 mile road that connects one end of the county to the other, and for those in the know, it was the route to take when you needed to get from Brodheadsville to Stroudsburg and avoid the sticky parts of 715, 611, and 209. It’s one of those roads you take just a little too fast (if you’re lucky to not be stuck behind some Sunday driver), and get a little thrill at the roller-coaster like dips your stomach takes into your pelvis when you take that last hill and catch air. It’s a road where you pass big three-story white farmhouses, cookie-cutter McMansions, broken down barns, and the occasional double wide. There’s the old general store where I used to buy Garbage Pail Kids, just around the corner from the restored one-room schoolhouse my Gram used to take classes in. It’s a road you can find a used car on, for sale by owner. A road you can find the perfect Christmas tree on. There’s a lady selling organic eggs, straight from the chicken. Just bring your own carton. It’s a road you can get lost on, if you’re not careful, and it’s a road that, for me, is imbedded in my past.

I drive down Neola Road and I see myself, age 17, newly licensed in my powder blue Plymouth Reliant with my friends all piled inside, driving to the Snydersville Diner for late night milkshakes. At age 19, skipping Anatomy and Physiology for the nth time to go shopping. At age 8, in the back seat of my mom’s Subaru, coming home from a weekend stay at Grandma’s. At age 24, in my first brand new car, a cherry red Jeep Wrangler with the top off, heading to work early on a perfect summer day. I drive down Neola Road now, as a 35 year old woman, headed toward the place I grew up, and I realize the old cliche is true. You can always go home again.

But, you know, just for a visit.

Filler

2011-03-22T22:29:00.000-04:00

Sorry guys. I want to post more, I really do. Life gets in the way sometimes.

The National Bird is the White Wagtail and its Main Exports are Timber, Paper, and Agricultural Products.

2011-02-06T12:43:00.000-05:00

I was checking out my pitiful blog stats, and it turns out the country that my little blog gets the most hits from (besides the United States, obvs) is Latvia.

So, shout out to ~~that one person~~ all my readers in Latvia. Paldies par apstāšanās ar! (that's Latvian for "Thanks for stopping by!")

The 2010 Year In Review Post That's Only a Few Days Late.

2011-01-03T22:51:00.012-05:00

I'm not one for year in review posts, or looking back at the past year of the blog. Mainly because I don't post all that much, so there's not exactly a wealth of content to review. But I do take a lot of pictures, both with my regular camera and my cell phone camera, and looking at pictures from the past year brings back a lot a fun memories.

Like January.

Peanut took to Wii Tennis like nobody's business. She will take you to school, son!

In February, we had a small snow storm.

Hah.

In March, I took a day trip to NYC with a group of friends from Twitter.

We went to MoMA for the Tim Burton exhibit, ate dinner in Little Italy, drinks at an Irish pub, and had an all-around fantastic day.

April was the month for home improvement.

It's so pretty.

There was also some baking.

Key Lime cake. So yummy.

And I drank beer.

Duh.

In May, there was the first BBQ of 2010.

Nom.

Drinks on the patio at the Keystone with Wilson and Danielle.

And toes in the pool on Memorial Day weekend.

In June, we rocked to save the animals.

And celebrated 5th birthdays.

In July, there were sweet cuddly bundles.

(I show this picture to mom when I want to torture her. Mwahaha!)

My friends have the cutest babies, for serious.

I hosted not one, but two BBQ's.

And that is the only picture anyone is allowed to see from either of them. Scandalous!

We had Fancy Dinner Night at one of Bethlehem, PA's finest dive bars.

And I did this.

In August there were a few weekends by the pool.

And sweet baby faces.

There was a winery run by hippies,

silliness in the Cabela's store,

and drunken friends in the H-town fountain.

September came, and I celebrated my birthday.

With cake.

And pretty dresses.

In October, I cheered on the Nittany Lions with my Daddy.

I drank tiny beers.

I dressed like a hippie.

And I said good-bye to my best friend.

In November, I baked pecan pie.

I played Scrabble on the best Saturday afternoon ever.

And I went to Reading Terminal Market.

December came, which meant it was time for Christmas trees

and the best gift ever

And New Years Eve with Peeps falling from the sky.

I had a fantastic year, and for all the bad there was 10 times as much good. Thank you to all my friends for making 2010 as wonderful as it was, and here's to an even better 2011!

You Can't Carry It With You If You Want To Survive

2010-12-02T23:38:00.000-05:00

Oh, children. It's been a rough month indeed. I started NaBloPoMo with the best of intentions, but at some point (looks to be the 12th?) I lost interest, lost direction, lost my voice. To be honest, I've been in a bit of a funk lately. With Jasper passing away, some uncertainty at work, and another more private issue that's been weighing on my mind, I guess I just haven't been feeling particularly chatty. This is in no way an excuse, and I know I could have shared my feelings here freely (what is a blog for, anyway?), but there's just some things one has to work out on their own. I'm definitely not all the way through it, but I'm getting there.

I went for a walk on my lunch hour today - it was a beautiful, brisk autumn afternoon, and I felt the need to get out. I was listening to some newly downloaded songs on my iPhone, including this one from Tuesday night's episode of Glee, a cover of Florence and the Machine's Dog Days are Over:

If you listen to the lyrics, the song is actually about a girl that runs away from happiness, which is admittedly a sad concept, but I listen to this song and can't help but think that this is what joy sounds like.

   Run fast for your mother and fast for your father
   Run for your children and your sisters and brothers
   Leave all your love and your loving behind you
   Can't carry it with you if you want to survive

   The dog days are over
   The dog days are gone
   Can't you hear the horses
   Cause here they come

I listen, I close my eyes, and I know I'll be okay.

Dear Netflix, You Win.

2010-11-11T07:02:00.000-05:00

I admit defeat. I've had this movie in my house since August 16th and I've never even opened the envelope. Ten bucks a month to borrow a movie for almost three months. I could have bought it twice.

So I'm sending it back, unwatched, with my head held high and my dignity in place. I may never find out what happens in the movie in which John Krasinsky and Mia Rudolph are adorable hipsters having a baby, and I'm okay with it.

But I swear to God, I will watch the next one.

Seven Random Thoughts in Lieu of an Actual Post

2010-11-08T22:48:00.000-05:00

It never occurred to me how much I dislike DST. I left for work today and it felt as though I were an hour behind schedule all day. Not to mention leaving in the dark at 5pm. Hate.
There is no comfort food on earth I enjoy more than a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. Fun fact: when I was little, I use to call a grilled cheese sandwich a "cookin' samwich". Because, well, you had to cook it.
I just remembered that. Weird.
'In Lieu of' is a fun phrase to say. In lieu of. In lieu of.
I think I need another throw rug in the living room. It looks empty.
Tomato soup gives me a little heartburn.
Oh look at that, past my bedtime.

Text Messages Make Me Laugh

2010-11-07T19:14:00.001-05:00

From Wilson, early last week:

He doesn't normally send me pictures of produce, so rest assured, this was quite the carrot.

Oh, Noes!

2010-11-06T05:36:00.000-04:00

I missed my Friday NaBloPoMo post! I blame tiredness. I fell asleep at 8 pm last night, which resulted in a ridiculously early wake up time this morning. (4 AM!) I'm using the time wisely and being productive, though. Two loads of laundry folded, cleaned the bedroom, and made the bed. Hooray for me! I have some cupcakes to bake and must scrub the bathroom and clean my floors yet, for I have company coming this afternoon for a Scrabble and Wii Guitar Battle Royale. To the death! (not really)

If I don't make it, tell my mother I love her.

Blogging To My 16 Year-Old Self.

2010-11-04T22:50:00.000-04:00

I usually don't pay attention to the memes that circulate around Twitter -- 9 times out of 10 they're childish and annoying. Today, however, I saw one circulate that I actually participated in; the 'Tweet yourself at age 16' meme. I only tweeted twice with the tag, but it made me think about what else I would say to myself at that age.

Dear Me at age 16;

First off, honey, stop being such a bitch to Mom. She ends up being your best friend, and the one person in the entire world who will put up with all your shit and still love you the next day. Secondly, do some damn homework. Study. Consider Penn State, but maybe take a year off first to grow the hell up. Travel when you can. Learn to speak Spanish. Take pictures. Fall the fuck in love. But not with him, because he just used you to get over her.

Don't waste your tears.

Be reckless. Be wild. Enjoy your youth. Don't be so concerned with being the good girl. Make friends, but be careful who you trust.

Tell Grandma you love her, a lot.

Credit cards are a bad idea before you get a real job. As are denim overalls in 1997.

Stop perming your hair. It's gorgeous.

And so are you.

Love,

You at age 35

Wordless Wednesday Tries Not To Depress You.

2010-11-03T22:47:00.000-04:00

It's too quiet and empty now. Like there's no life left in my house.

To NaBloPoMo or Not to NaBloPoMo?

2010-11-02T21:45:00.000-04:00

So it's National Blog Posting Month, or NaBloPoMo, and I'm thinking about participating. This is a lofty aspiration for the girl that posts maybe twice a month if she's lucky, but I'm going to give it a go. I'm sure many days I'll be lucky to post a photo of the day, and I might even have to dig out a meme or two, but I want to get back into writing & posting recipes - even if nobody reads it - just to have a place for my thoughts. Vapid and ridiculous as they may be.

You've been warned.

Good-Bye, Friend.

2010-11-01T05:57:00.000-04:00

I'll never forget you, Jasper. Thank you for being my best friend for six years. Rest now, my sweet boy.

What I Did This Weekend, a Short Photo Essay.

2010-10-18T22:31:00.000-04:00

1. Attended the Lehigh Valley Brewfest, and drank excellent beer out of tiny plastic mugs.

2. Hung out with my friend Vanessa Saturday night for dinner and got my ass handed to me at Scrabble.

Really?!

3. Went on an impromptu shopping trip to Target, because while at Brewfest I froze my ass off and realized I needed a fall coat. So I bought this one, because I'm a sucker for a pea coat. Of course I bought the coat and it was so warm on Sunday I didn't need it. Speaking of Sunday...

4. I saw a local theater production of Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, and had a marvelous time.

Also, I had frozen yogurt with Cocoa Puffs on top.

And there's my weekend. Hope you had a good one, too.

Micro-Blogging At Its Lamest.

2010-10-10T23:29:00.000-04:00

Since I started this blog over a year and a half ago, my posting has been...light, to say the least. Sporadic? That's a fancy way of saying it. Hmm. Let's just go with, "I don't post a lot," and leave it at that. So, why would I start a Posterous account?

Blatant narcissism, of course. Well, partly. Also it's a way of blogging without actually blogging, if that makes sense? I figure even if I don't write here, at least I'm posting something somewhere that I can get my thoughts out.

Anyway. I'm blathering/posting random crap at Posterous. Check it here, y'all.

Autumn Beginnings

2010-10-05T12:37:00.010-04:00

It's officially autumn in Pennsylvania, and that means I'm digging out my jeans and sweaters, gearing up for Penn State football (and Phillies post-season, hell yeah), and dreaming of autumn-centric recipes. Pumpkin roll. Pumpkin muffins. Apple everything. And soups. Hearty, tummy-warming soups that make you want to curl up on the couch in your jim jams and fuzzy socks and watch marathons of Supernatural or Friday Night Lights.

Last week we had a wicked two day rain, just absolute downpours, the kind that flooded streams and caved in ceillings (not to mention flooded my damn basement a little), and it put me in the mood for just such a soup, even though it was 77 degrees and humid as all get out. I've made this soup a few times. It's really simple to make, and ultra comforting on a cold fall day.

Mom's Cream of Cauliflower Soup

1 medium head Cauliflower
2 whole Medium Onions, Halved And Sliced Thin
4-½ cups Milk, Separated
2 Tablespoons Flour
2 Tablespoons Butter
⅓ cups Cream
½ teaspoons Salt
¼ teaspoons Fresh Cracked Pepper

Cut the cauliflower into small-ish florets.

In a large pan, add 1 1/2 cups of milk and salt liberally. Add the cauliflower florets and steam until fall-apart tender over medium-low heat (watch this, the milk bubbles over quicker than you can say 'Turn that burner down!").

In a separate pot, sautee the onions in butter until softened and translucent but not browned. Add flour and combine to make a roux. Add the remaining 3 cups of milk a little at a time, stirring as you go, and allow to thicken slightly. Add the cooked cauliflower in milk and the cream (if desired). Season with salt and pepper to taste.

After this, you can serve as is, or smooth it out in a blender or food processor. I used an immersion blender (I LOVE that thing), and it whipped up the soup in a matter of moments, leaving smooth creamy deliciousness in a pan. I never did this before, but it made the soup so smooth and slurpable (totally a word), that I can't imagine skipping it again.

Enjoy with some crackers or your favorite sandwich and a good helping of the Winchester Brothers.

This Entry Does Not End Well.

2010-09-27T06:02:00.006-04:00

About a year and a half ago, I was woken up at 4 in the morning by the sounds of Jasper thrashing around in my bedroom. I quickly turned the light on to see what was going on and found him lying in the corner of the room, panting and looking slightly...bewildered at whatever had just happened. I reached out my hand to pet him and comfort him and, right while he was laying there, he had an accident on the floor. The incident was a bit troubling, but I kind of shrugged it off as a bad puppy dream and didn't think anything of it. I got ready and went to work that morning, and mentioned it to my supervisor, who said, "It sounds like he had a seizure. Has that happened before?"

This was a bit frightening, because, no, this had not happened before. I made an appointment with the vet that week just to get him checked out, even though he seemed normal the rest of the day. She examined him and drew some blood for labs, and said to keep an eye out for any more seizure activity, because if it happened again he'd have to be put on medication.

Cut to last March, when my parents dog sat for a few days and he took a tumble down the stairs. His back and legs hurt him badly. I got him checked out again, the vet put him on an anti-inflammatory, and he improved over the next month, but since that episode there's been a definite downturn in his activity level, which, with age and arthritis, is to be expected.

A few weeks after the incident my mother mentioned that during the time he spent at their house she'd seen Jasper's head was jerking as if he was having some sort of spasm. I was concerned, but had not seen him having any other episodes of this, so I brushed it off as a muscle spasm/reaction to the fall down the stairs.

I knew it wasn't, but I wanted to think it was.

A couple weeks ago, I woke up late on a Saturday morning, and Jasper started seizing, again. Violently. For thirty minutes. His eyes were rolling back in his head, and his tongue was flopping out of his mouth. I called the vet, panicked, and they had me bring him right in. The seizure stopped on the way to the office, and he sat next to me in the waiting room, exhausted. The vet examined him and took some blood to check his cell count for signs of cancer - seizures are oftentimes signs of brain tumors. She placed him on phenobarbital to calm the seizures, and asked that we follow up in a few weeks.

Last weekend was the scheduled follow up, and I was happy to report that, with the exception of one episode, the seizures did not come back, but I could tell when he needed the phenobarbital because he would have the same head spasm that my mother noticed a few months ago. The vet looked at me, sort of puzzled. "Really, because that...shouldn't really be happening..." She then asked about any other sort of strange behaviors I might have noticed - change in his eating or bathroom habits, or if he'd been pacing around the house or walking in circles.

"Oh, yes, he's been doing that for a few weeks now. Pacing, pacing, pacing, around the kitchen island. And sometimes he'll walk around the house and kind of...get lost? Or stuck in the corner of the living room and just stand there for a few seconds, like he forgot where he's going."

The vet looked at me then, and I just knew.

"Those aren't good signs, Jenn. Those are symptoms that he has a brain tumor."

I knew it. I knew something bad was wrong. I knew this was coming. I just didn't want to accept it. The vet added prednisone to his medication regimen (poor dog takes more meds than my grandpa, I swear) to calm the symptoms, but from here it's just a matter of weeks until I have to make the worst decision of my life.

This is where it sucks. Not knowing if today's going to be the day that I need to call the vet. Waiting. For him to get worse, to start seizing violently, for his personality to change, for him to snap. For him not to be my Jasper.

When it's time for him to go, I won't hang on. I won't let him suffer, I swear. Until then, I'm the one suffering.

Scenes From The Suburban Ghetto, Act 4

2010-09-15T21:41:00.002-04:00

It's 9 PM on a late summer evening outside on the patio. Crickets chirp, and a soft breeze blows. The light that normally illuminates the postage stamp back yard is off, but the safety lights from the nearby apartments shine bright enough to see. The stars are bright overhead. The dog sniffs around at some weeds that have overgrown their stay in the flowerbed and quietly conducts his business while a couple from down the street pass by cautiously with their own dog. They go unnoticed. Suddenly the couple's three year old son zooms by on a Razor scooter, missing the neighbor's car by inches and stopping just short of an old stump in the yard.

"Oh, shit!" exclaims the three year old.

I walk back inside and shake my head. Fucking kids, I tell you.

What Happens at Work When I'm Bored. A (Somewhat Blurry) Photoessay.

2010-08-13T15:41:00.005-04:00

So I have this shirt.

It's alright, as shirts go. Certainly not fashion-forward, in any sense of the term. But it's...kinda cute, and it serves its purpose, which for me means it gives me something to wear to work when I don't feel like wearing my usual scrubs.

But what is that little ass pocket for? As far as I can tell it's too small to serve any real function.

My pens would fall right out of there. Not good.

Handheld computerized Yahtzee? Maybe. But the battery's dead, so no point in that.

Hello Kitty? Oh, I wish. But she might fall out and get lost forever. Sadness.

Paperclips = lamesauce.

Wait a minute...what's this?

Swedish Fish? Perfect fit!

And delicious, to boot.

Om nom nom.

Adios, fishies!

Ladies and Gentlemen, My Mother.

2010-08-10T22:07:00.010-04:00

The scene: This past Sunday afternoon, while floating in mom and dad's pool:

"Momma, you have a follow up with Dr. R. on Tuesday, how's your knee feeling?"

"Still no better. Think I'm going to need that MRI after all -- hey, I'm stopping at the farm stand tomorrow, want me to bring you any veggies when I come down? Fresh tomatoes or something?"

"You don't need to buy me --."

"Do. You. Want. Vegetables?"

"Oh, alright. But I'm good with tomatoes. Maybe yellow squash? Or broccoli. That's enough."

"Mmm-hmm. And what about green beans?"

"You don't have to buy me--"

"Do you want green beans, if they have them?"

"Sure. I'll take green beans, if they have them. But don't go nuts."

"Of course I won't, honey."

Cut to today, 10 am. I'm at work. My cell phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Jenny, can you come to the back entrance? I want to give you those veggies. I'd bring them in with me but there's a couple of bags here."

"Mom, I told you not to get a lot--"

"Jennifer, come get your vegetables."

"Yes, mom."

Safe to say I'll be eating healthy this week.

Yes. I know.

2010-07-25T10:03:00.003-04:00

And, really, there's no point in trying to make an excuse. I. Suck. At. Blogging.

But! I'm having a lot of fun this summer. So there's that.

There's been lots of swimming; the weather this summer has been gorgeous - super hot, lots of sun - perfect for sitting by the pool during the weekend. Sometimes I wish I lived closer to my parents so I could just pop in on a weekday after work for a quick swim and then I realize the just how horrible that could be and I change my wish to, like, a pony or something. Better.

There was a vacation! Not a getting-out-of-town kind of vacation, but a get-the-heck-out-of-the-office vacation, which I hadn't had in years. So that was nice.

There were BBQ's. Some were scandalous.

There's been babies! Lots of yummy babies, so sweet and so cute. J gave birth to baby girl #2, and for all intents and purposes here we're going to call her Pumpkin.

She's pretty awesome.

Also, Wilson's wife had their new little one, a boy! So very happy for them. He's pretty awesome, too. I think I might have to do some matchmaking in about 18 years...

And there's been baking. I don't know what got into me this month, but in the space of two weeks, I baked chocolate chip cookies, zucchini bread, and Smitten Kitchen's Car Bomb Cupcakes. I *think* the phase has passed, but we can never be too sure. Oh! I also did some baking for a Relay for Life fundraiser -- made $42 off my product alone. If this isn't proof enough that I shouldn't be proprietor of some sort of bakery, I don't know what is.

Perhaps the fact that I have no business savvy or financial backing? Maybe.

Anywho, that's been my summer. I hope you're enjoying yours just as much.

Watermelon Plank Salad

2010-06-15T19:49:00.006-04:00

Summer is by far my favorite time of year. Hot weather, sunshine, grilling, lying poolside, garden fresh vegetables...what's not to love? The only thing I don't like about summer is when - at least some days - it's just too damn hot to cook. That's when I whip out recipes like this, this, this, and sometimes this (Oh, I cannot WAIT for good tomatoes to make that one), because they're a quick and easy way to beat the heat without sweating over the stove.

And now I'm adding this to my pantheon of 'Too Hot To Cook' recipes. You can make as much of this as you want and eat that as your meal, or scale it down for more of a starter/side, like I did tonight. It might seem weird - watermelon? Cheese? Onion? TOGETHER?! I know, I was skeptical too, at first. Then I ate it, and my life was forever changed.

No need for step by step instructions, this is too simple to screw up.

Watermelon Plank Salad

1 large slice of watermelon, cut into 1 inch by 3 inch rectangles (about 4-6 pieces)

1/2 small red onion, sliced very thin

2 Tbs crumbled Feta cheese

1-2TBs balsamic glaze

Arrange watermelon on plate, top with onion, feta, and balsamic glaze. Season with salt and pepper, if desired.

I for real made the 'OMNOMNOMNOM' noise the first time I ever ate this. You will, too.

Chicken Marsala

2010-06-10T15:40:00.010-04:00

You know that dish, that one dish you make that you never ever need a recipe for? The dish that your friends tell everyone about? The dish that, once you're finished cooking it, you gaze down upon with a satisfied grin knowing everything is right with the world?

Chicken Marsala is that dish for me.

I made it for the first time quite a few years ago, for my mom's birthday. It was my first real meal cooking for my parents and I wanted to make something...a little less 'pedestrian' than chicken Caciattore or Parmigiana. She had some nameless Italian cookbook at the time and I picked the Marsala recipe because it looked quick and easy yet still impressive enough for a 'fancy' home dinner. Over time I've changed the way I make it, but it's a fairly simple dish and the basics are still covered.

Chicken Marsala

1 lb thin sliced chicken breast cutlets

1 lb white mushrooms

1 cup Marsala wine (note: please, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT buy the 'Marsala cooking wine' in your grocery store. Go to a liquor store -- or the wine section of your grocery store-- and buy actual Marsala wine. I don't want to hear about it if you don't.)

2-3TB fresh parsley

2 TB fresh lemon juice

1/2 cup flour

2 TB butter

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

kosher salt

fresh ground black pepper

Clean off the mushrooms with a damp paper towel. Remove stems and slice thin.

Melt 1 TB of butter in a stainless steel (not non-stick) pan over medium heat. Add 2TB of olive oil and the sliced mushrooms.

Cook until browned, about 7-8 minutes. Add 1Tb lemon juice. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, just to taste. Remove from pan.

While mushrooms are cooking, pound out the chicken breasts one at a time in a zip top bag.

Dredge in flour seasoned with salt and pepper and set aside. When the mushrooms are finished cooking, add the remaining 2TB of olive oil and cook the chicken, approximately 3-4 minutes on both sides, until slightly browned and cooked through.

Remove chicken from pan and set aside.

Add Marsala to the pan and de-glaze, scraping up all the browned pieces at the bottom of the pan for flavor.

Allow the wine to cook down for approximately 3-4 minutes and add remaining 1 TB of butter. Return mushrooms and chicken to the pan to reheat. Add remaining lemon juice and parsley and serve.

Unf. So simple, so flavorful. My favorite recipe, and most likely the one that helped me realize my love of cooking.

I served it over whole wheat spaghetti tossed with lemon, olive oil, fresh parsley, parmesan cheese, and salt and pepper; also a side of roasted broccoli.

Exactly.

Busy Bee

2010-06-08T10:20:00.003-04:00

If you've wondered where I've been, it's been right here. Just busy. Constantly going going going; during the day, every night when I get home from work, and every weekend. I'm not complaining in the least - I've been having a blast with friends and family, having picnics, going to festivals, Open Mics, movies, and just...hanging out. It's been too long since I've had a group of friends that are able to get out and do whatever, whenever. Not that I'm complaining about any of my old friends, mind you - I love them dearly, but they've all got little ones (with more on the way), and can't get out as easily as they once did. All this hustle and bustle of the past few weeks has made me realize how much I miss having a social life. The past month has flown past in one happy, hectic blur. It makes me so excited to see what summer has in store.

Scenes From The Suburban Ghetto, Act 3

2010-05-07T21:47:00.005-04:00

On a cool spring evening, a light breeze blows through the window. It's just after dark. Neighborhood kids still play catch outside beneath the halo of light from the street lamps, their cajoling shouts echo off the apartment building next door. The dog sighs in contentment and stretches out on the floor. From across the street comes the distinctive sound of a lone shopping cart being wheeled down the sidewalk, miles away from its home in the Redner's parking lot.

Another Friday night in Allentown, Pennsylvania.

Cleaning House

2010-05-02T20:19:00.003-04:00

I've spent most of my time the past two months doing a lot of work around the house with my mom & dad. We started in the living room and replaced the carpet with laminate flooring. I'm officially loving it. No more vacuuming! No more dust and dog hair!

It started like this:

And ended up like this:

Could you die? It's fabulous.

Jasper, however? Oh, he hateses it he does, precious. He slips and slides all over the place. It's funny yet pathetic at the same time.

We also did some improvements outside, re-organizing my small garden shed and re-planting my flower bed in the rear of the house. We replaced the horrid scalloped brick border with some fancy tumbled brick and the black mulch that never seems to stay put with some pretty landscaping stones. I didn't get a chance to take a picture of the flower bed, but trust me. It's an improvement.

I've also taken some time (with mom and dad's help) to do some major spring cleaning. I'm pretty good about keeping the main areas of the house tidy, but some rooms - the spare room and basement, specifically - were embarrassing. Worse than a frat house. Like one of those houses you see on Clean House or Hoarders, even. Not so anymore, however. The spare room is being turned into an office - eventually. I'm painting it, putting in some bookshelves, possibly a small desk - it'll be nice to have a place to organize everything. It's going to take a while, especially with my extra help soon focusing on their own home (as they well should), but I'm hoping that I'll have a nice little office by July 4th.

And he won't be allowed in it.

I Am A Delicate Flower.

2010-04-29T16:16:00.005-04:00

I spent some time on the phone today calling a couple different companies inquiring about phone, internet, and TV service because my bill had become outrageous - to the tune of $270 a month.

Dudes. I KNOW.

So, anyway, I called a couple companies, got some prices for their bundled packages, and then called my provider telling them I wanted to cancel service, which of COURSE got them to lower my bill (I did lose a couple services, including 20 Mb internet which I had NO idea I had - unnecessary!), and I'm ending up saving almost $90 per month.

ANYWAY.

I was talking about the situation with my co-workers, going over the pros and cons of each company, when this little exchange occured:

D: But with (company redacted), they charge you per TV.

Me: I only have one TV.

D:Really? You don't have TV in your bedroom?

Me: No. Bedrooms are for sleeping and fucking. Not watching TV.

Wilson:JESUS!

Me: Oh, look. I think Dr. Z.'s head just exploded.

two minutes later....

Wilson: You know, Jenn, I used to have an idea about what went on in the work place as far as propriety and professionalism went.

Me: Oh, honey, that flew out the window long ago.

*cue evil laughter*

He's Not Cooking for Me, Ever.

2010-04-28T14:37:00.005-04:00

Me, to Wilson: "Look at this!"

Wilson: "Homemade Pop Tarts? mmmm. What's in them? Gummy Bears?"

Me:"Ha ha, no, looks like cinnamon and brown sugar, and ooh - Nutella! mmm, Nutella."

Wilson: "What is Nutella? I hear a lot about it, but never tried it."

Me: "Oh my word, it's this spreadable chocolate with hazlenut flavor - the first time I ever had it, I swear I had an orgasm right in the kitchen. Have you ever had a Rocher?"

Wilson: "The candy? No."

Me: "Oh, well it's like a wafer with a hazelnut and Nutella inside. It's delicious."

Wilson: "So, what, you just put it on stuff?"

Me: "Yeah, or in pastry. You should get it for Julie, she'd probably hump your face she'd love it so much. I've seen people make Nutella sandwiches. But, mostly you spread it on stuff..."

Wilson: "Like steak?"

Me: ...

There's No Point To This Whatsoever.

2010-04-22T18:12:00.008-04:00

Ok, so! I have a (slightly[probably only to me]) amusing story to tell you about my adventures today. But it's one of those stories that you need to hear about three different back stories on, so bear with me.

Anyway. I'm having a small group of friends over for a BBQ tomorrow night, just throwing some burgers and chicken legs on the grill and some beers in the cooler. It'll be fun times. You should totally come. And today I decided I'd run to the grocery store during my lunch hour and get all the groceries I need for this BBQ and save myself the time after work. I decided to go to a store different from my usual because they have a better produce selection, and their prices are very reasonable.

I'm all about saving money, you see.

So! Okay, here's the back story: I work with a lady who, let's just say, has some quirks. Some peccadilloes. Some idiosyncrasies, if you will. Alright, I'll say it.

She's a tad weird.

But totally not in a bad way. She just (I think) has some (possibly undiagnosed) OCD going on, and some definite anxiety/nervous tendencies. Most days it goes unnoticed, especially because I don't work directly with her, but some days? Dudes. Some days I just want to say, "GIVE IT A REST. IT'S FINE. YOU DON'T HAVE TO CHECK THAT TRIVIAL THING FIVE TIMES." But I know that would send her into even more of a tizzy, so I just keep my mouth shut and am thankful that she does check that trivial thing five times because what if she hadn't and something got mixed up. And I get why she is anal about everything because I totally understand the need for order and organization. I am a Virgo, you know.

Anyway. Wilson mentioned to me one day that this person (let's call her Twitchy, 'cause it's fun) resembles a pop culture icon from the early 90's.

Yes. She looks like Garth Algar, of Wayne's World fame. More specifically, she looks like the girl in the sequel to the Wayne's World movie (remember that steaming pile of poo?) that looked like Garth.

Her.

Side note, did you know that's Olivia freaking D'abo? The 'hippie older sister' from The Wonder Years. I never knew. Huh.

Anyway, yes, Twitchy looks exactly like that. And we've had a little fun with it ever since. Which, yes, is kind of mean, but Wilson and I pick on everyone, including each other. Mercilessly. Besides, it's kind of awesome that Twitchy resembles someone remembered so fondly in my teenage memories.

OKAY! Back to today, where I'm at Valley Farmer's Market, otherwise known as The Land of Awesome Produce and Phenomenal Butcher Counter, and I'm running around like a fool because it's not my usual grocery spot so I don't know where everything is, and did I mention it's ~~Old People~~ Senior Citizen Day, so isn't that lovely (don't get me wrong, I treasure the older generation and think we have much to learn from them but DUDE I AM TRYING TO BUY EGGS GTFO PLEASE), getting stuck behind Ma and Pa Kettle in the dog food aisle when I have TWENTY MINUTES ZOMG to get back to work.

So I grab the last of my items and jump into line to check out. I was lucky enough to get on line right behind someone that was almost done checking out, so I loaded my goods on the belt and waited patiently while their groceries were rung up and bagged. They paid and left, and I looked expectantly at the cashier waiting for her to begin my order. Except that it was apparently shift change and that cashier was switching with a new cashier. Which meant they had to switch out money, cash drawer, etc.

Now this was fine, I've worked a cash register or two in my day, and I know how that sort of thing works. I waited patiently as the new cashier put her drawer in, and got her money in order. And put the receipt envelope in the drawer. And put her pens side by side next to the register. And put her lip balm next to the pens. And her anti bacterial hand gel and OH GOOD LORD I GOT THE OCD CASHIER.

Now, let me tell you, I am not one of those people who has to have everything separate in their grocery bags. I don't care if there's bars of soap in with my milk. I don't mind if you put more than two bottles of soda in one bag. Just don't squash my heirloom tomatoes or my bread (should I have any) and we're okay. I usually prefer to bag my own items just to facilitate the process, but OCD Cashier was not. Having it.

Ring three items. Put them in a bag. Right two more. Put them in the bag. Get a new bag. Fix new bag on the bag hanger. Open new bag. Fix bag again. Open bag wider.

Cut to Jenn, slowly dying inside.

During the whole grocery-ringing fiasco, I was texting Wilson, because damn it someone needed to share in my misery.

JC: OMG Dude I'm at Valley Farms and I swear I have Twitchy's long-lost sister as a cashier. FFS.

Wilson: Garth?

JC: ha ha, no. just anal and OCD and OMFG SO SLOW.

Wilson: Ah, gotcha. Yikes.

JC: But her OCD did just spy a coupon on my garbage bags so good on you, annoyingly anal cashier.

JC: AND HOLY SHIT SHE DOES LOOK LIKE GARTH BUT WITH BROWN HAIR. TOTALLY TWITCHY'S SISTER.

JC: AWESOME.

At some point Wilson stopped replying, which often happens when I go off on tangents at the grocery store, so I'm used to it. As is he.

Why There's Been A Snausage Shortage in Pennsylvania

2010-04-15T10:28:00.008-04:00

Last month I went to NYC with a group of local Twitter friends. We spent the day at MoMA, we did a little sight-seeing, we dined al fresco in Little Italy (followed by the best gelato I ever had), and ended the night in an Irish pub. I had a great time, especially because I knew I didn't have to worry about rushing home to take care of Jasper, since he was spending time at my parent's house.

Mom and Dad were willing to take Jasper for a few days, but I was lucky to get him back. Or so I was told. Jasper and my parents have a love-love relationship. It's kind of annoying. They love to have him stay because they miss having a dog in the house, and Jas loves going to their house because there's so much room to roam outside, and many more things to sniff. Always with the sniff sniff sniffing. I swear he's part bloodhound. Or coke fiend. Whatever.

While Jasper was at "Gram and Pop's" (I know, I'm properly ashamed of myself, don't worry) he got the best of everything -- lots of food, treats, and all the toilet water he could drink. He also got a haircut!

Who's a handsome fella? Who IS? HIM is! *Ahem* Anyway.

With all that good came a little bit of bad. You see, Jasper's getting on in years, and his back and legs aren't as sturdy as they used to be. He's got the arthritis, and some days it's pretty bad. Most days he's just a little slow and walks a little stiffly, but some days he doesn't get up as quickly and whines a little when he first gets going. I've been able to quiet the pain down with some 'over the counter' medications from the pet store and they seemed to help. But, my parents have hardwood floors in their house, including the stair case, and wood floors + unstable old man doggy legs = trouble, and Jasper fell down their stairs not once, but three times. As a result, he had a much harder time getting around the last day of his stay. He didn't move much from his blanket on the floor, and when he did, he cried horribly.

My poor baby.

So I brought him home and let him rest. For the next day, it was much of the same, as far as the not moving and crying went. He wasn't able to curl up in a ball and lie down, so when he slept he was sprawled out all weird, and when he'd try to get up - oh, the crying - it broke my heart. He'd wake up in the middle of the night with it. I felt so helpless because I couldn't help him - he'd growl at me if I tried. So I made an appointment at the vet for him to get checked out. He needed his yearly check up anyway, but this problem was enough to push me to call sooner rather than later. X-rays, blood work, exam, medications, and one mortgage payment later, and the vet told me there was no fracture, that yes, he has arthritis, but it's manageable, and it was probably the falls down the steps that just aggravated his condition, not to mention throw some ligament damage in for good measure. So he's on Tramadol, which must be bitter as hell, because let me tell you - it is a joy to try to get him to swallow those things, and has a follow up appointment tomorrow.

He's feeling much better, but it's taken a toll on him, I can tell. He's slower to get up the stairs, and is still not fond of sitting or lying down. The Tramadol makes him thirsty as hell, so he drinks more, and then of course needs to pee more, and if I'm not letting him out the door toute de freakin' suite...well, I don't have to tell you. It's been a trying time, but he's improving, and that's what counts.

Throughout this whole ordeal I've had to really think about what it's going to be like not having him around anymore. Before I took him to the vet my dad said that I might 'have to make a hard decision soon', and I did not want to even entertain that idea, but you know...it happens. What if he had a fracture? What if he needed surgery? What if it had been inoperable? What if it had been cancer? I thought about these things, listening to him cry at night, and I cried right along with him.

I knew from day one with Jasper that our time together would be limited. He was six years old when I brought him home, I'm not delusional. And yes, he's just a dog, but he's my baby. He's been with me for six years, waiting at the door when I get home, getting underfoot when I'm at the stove, sitting by my feet when I'm on the couch. I know he's going to leave me, and I know it's going to be soon. And it's going to hurt like hell.

But I am so not ready yet.

Things I Think About When I'm Bored.

2010-03-30T22:11:00.004-04:00

I know we all have irrational fears; those fears that, while it's ridiculous to believe they could ever happen, you think of your friend who knows that guy whose sister hung out with the girl that found, like, a toe in her Dairy Queen Blizzard that one time and then you think, "What if?"

I'm more than willing to admit most if not all of my irrational fears are more whacked out than some - like, driving beneath an overpass on the highway and wondering if it's going to collapse right on top of me. Or, when walking downstairs to my basement I wonder how long it would be before I was missed if I fell down and broke my neck.

Before the dog started to eat my face, I hope.

I take the stairs one at a time now, just to be safe.

Better Than Nothing.

2010-03-17T21:50:00.004-04:00

Hello, my darlings. I'm tired and suffering from sinus ickyness. But I feel bad about my lack of posting so I'm just going to list it out. Again.

I'm headed to NYC on Friday to see the Tim Burton exhibit at MoMA! I'm going with some Twitter friends - we're taking the train in from NJ, going to the museum, then running amok in the city. I'm ridiculously excited about this.
Big Poppa is almost done fixing up the kitchen ceiling. He cut a hole in the ceiling, poked around a bit, and couldn't find an 'actual' leak, so he diagnosed my with having a 'winter leak'. Meaning I can look forward to having this problem at least once every winter. Awesome.
The per diem position at my old job that I was so excited about? Yeah. Not so much. Not now, at least. I was told that there was a hiring freeze at the hospital, so there's not a position for me right now. I was disappointed about this for sure, but I have it on good authority that a per diem employee recently resigned and the Radiology supervisor will be making a push to hire me. So I've got that going for me. Which is nice.
I've got a recipe to post, I just need to sit down and write it. But I'm lazy. And suffering from the sinus ick.

Which is why I'm calling it a night. Sleep well, my babies.

Or You Could Keep Listening to The Jonas Brothers. I Won't Judge.

2010-03-02T18:32:00.006-05:00

It's not often that I find a new band or album that I fall in love with instantly. I'm a habitual music fan, I guess you could say -- I listen to the same stuff I've always listened to, with a few songs from new or different artists here and there. So when I say I found a new band that I'm really into, for me, it's kind of a big deal.

Them Crooked Vultures is a 'Supergroup' (that's what they're being called, anyway) comprised of Dave Grohl (from Nirvana and the Foo Fighters), Josh Homme (from Queens of the Stone Age), and John Paul Jones, the bassist from Led fahreeking Zepplin. You might have seen them on Saturday Night Live a few weeks ago. If not, here's what you missed:

Now, I'm an admitted Dave Grohl fan girl, I would watch him play the drums in an ABBA tribute band, but every time he comes out with something new I fall in love with him a little more.

For serious, though. Check them out. Or don't.

"No, there is too much. Let me sum up."

2010-02-23T06:19:00.005-05:00

In the month since last we met, the following has occurred/been done by/happened to yours truly:

I applied, interviewed for, and was offered a per diem position at my old job. My old boss (let's just call her Satan's Mistress, mmmkay?) ~~was forced to~~ decided to retire, and her replacement had heard such good things about me that she asked me to apply for a position (So suck on THAT, you warthog-faced old hag). I accepted, of course - who couldnt' use some extra cash - and am just waiting for my NJ license renewal to come before I can start. It'll be nice working with my old peeps again; I've missed them.
The kitchen ceiling sprung a leak. I actually don't want to get into too much detail about this, it happened once almost three weeks ago and not again (knock on wood), and the source of the leak has not been found yet nor has the problem been dealt with. Hopefully soon.
I lost ten pounds.
I gained five back.
I argued with my mother, lovingly. (Perhaps this is a given?)
I attended a concert for one of my favorite bands and realized that I am now, in fact, too old for General Admission Floor seats (or no seats, as it were). Standing that amount of time crammed in a crowd nearly killed me and my feet. Good show, though.
I got snowed in for one day, during the SNOWPOCALYPSE. That was fun.
I attended an Open Mic night at a local coffee shop. It was organized by an acquaintance on Twitter, and I got to see quite a few talented people perform. Plus I had one of the greatest grilled cheese sandwiches I've ever eaten, so...bonus.

And that was about it. So, you know, you didn't miss much.

This Does Not Bode Well

2010-01-21T21:53:00.004-05:00

Dear food bloggers, you are killing me.

You realize I'm trying to watch what I eat, right? Emphasis on the try. Because it's hard to eat healthy when you people keep posting all these fantastic recipes. Here I sit, three hours after I've eaten my bun-less turkey burger, steamed veggies and brown rice, and I swear my stomach is not just growling but snarling at the sight of all these recipes.

Like this lemon-olive oil cake from The Kitchen Sink. Lemony, not super sweet, and looks fairly simple to make. Bookmarked.

Or Garlic Butter Noodles at The Asian Grandmothers Cookbook, recipe by Steamy Kitchen, whose cookbook I am SO getting ASAP. Simple, buttery, delicious. Makes me want to raid the Asian foods aisle at the grocery store.

OH! And this Lemon Poppy Seed cake from Smitten Kitchen. I'm having a friend over to watch the Dollhouse finale next week, and I'm thinking this might be dessert. Also, I'm apparently craving lemon baked goods right now. mmmmm. Lemon.

Next up, we have two entries from Inn Cuisine at Home. These Snack Mix Bars would be perfect and fun for a snowy Saturday afternooon, and this Caramel Banana Pie is just...obscene. It the most delicious way possible.

I've been wanting to try to make my own pasta for a while, and these homemade egg noodles by Cooking with Anne might just push me over the edge. By the way, Anne's a local girl! I met her briefly last week, she's so sweet.

Perfect Potatoes Au Gratin, by The Pioneer Woman. Potatoes, cream, butter, and cheese. My four favorite words in the world.

Nutella Milkshake by bell'alimento? Oh, good gravy, YES.

This Key Lime Cake from Baking in Boots? I give up.

So long, turkey burgers. Me and my thighs are throwing in the towel.

Marathon Manicotti

2010-01-13T22:08:00.006-05:00

Tonight something possessed me to make a pan of stuffed manicotti. Don't ask me why, let's just roll with it.

I didn't write down everything I was doing as I did it, so please bear with me on the directions/proportions. Also it's after ten at night, I ate dinner less than an hour ago, and I am tired.

Sausage and Spinach Stuffed Manicotti

Ingredients:
1 package Manicotti noodles
1 lb Hot or Sweet Italian Sausage
1 box frozen chopped spinach, thawed
1 lb ricotta cheese
1 28 oz can crushed tomatoes
1 28 oz can tomato puree
1 large onion, diced
2 ribs celery, diced
2 carrots, diced
6 cloves garlic, diced fine
2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
5-6 leaves basil, chopped
dried oregano
dried thyme
fresh ground nutmeg
salt
pepper
olive oil

Start the sauce first: Saute the onion, celery, and carrot over medium high heat in olive oil until softened. Season with salt and pepper. Add four of the diced cloves of garlic and saute a few minutes more. Add crushed tomatoes and tomato puree, stir, and bring to a simmer. Add oregano and thyme, and more salt and pepper to taste. Turn down heat and let sauce simmer, continuing to taste and adjust spices to your liking.

You can totally skip this step and use jarred sauce, by the way. It would save you at least a half hour.

Maybe I should have done that.

ANYWAY.

Heat another pan over medium-high heat. Remove sausage from casing (if necessary) and add to the pan. Crumble sausage and cook through. Drain thawed spinach in a sieve or clean kitchen towel thoroughly and add to the sausage. Add in the remaining diced garlic and some grated nutmeg if desired. Saute for two more minutes, and remove from pan. Allow to cool slightly, then stir in ricotta cheese and set aside.

Set a pan of water to boil for the manicotti. Add a good pinch of salt to the water and cook pasta according to package directions. Drain, and drizzle with a little oil to keep noodles from sticking to each other. Allow to cool slightly before handling.

Spray a 13 x 9 x 2 casserole dish with non-stick cooking spray, and layer in half the sauce. Spoon the sausage and spinach mixture into a large zip top baggie and snip off one corner. Squeeze some of the mixture into the opening of the manicotti noodle at each end, taking care to not over fill.

Note: I did not take a picture of this step because I only have two hands, so, you know, visualize, people.

Lay noodle in sauce & repeat until all filling is used. Top with shredded mozzarella, remaining sauce, and grated parmesan. Cover with foil and bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes. Remove foil and bake an additional 10 minutes. Smack yourself in the head for attempting to make this on a weeknight and serve.

Mess on a plate = 'maniGOT'! (As my Italian peeps call it)

Notes:

My sauce was a little chunky, so if you're so inclined, you could run an immersion blender through it or something to smooth it out -- especially if you're serving kids, so they don't see the veggies.

Please don't mind the dishes drying in the background on the last photo. I kind of liked the wonky angle and was too lazy to crop them out.

A Few Requests

2010-01-12T11:12:00.006-05:00

If you're in the middle of the aisle in the grocery store on your cell phone because apparently you cannot select the correct brand of tomato sauce without the sage advice of the person at the other end, do not act surprised when I sigh loudly, say 'Excuse me' and try to go around you.

If you're waiting for the elevator and I'm exiting the same elevator, please know that correct elevator etiquette dictates that you wait for me to exit the elevator before you barrel your way on to it.

If you're coming to my house to visit, anticipate being molested by an overeager Springer Spaniel. Unless you're under the age of 12. In that case, don't mess with the dog.

If we're playing Wii tennis, don't act scandalized when, in the middle of the game, I should happen to call the smug little computerized tennis player a f*cking c*nt. She had it coming.

If we go out drinking and you should happen to order a beverage which I consider to be a 'bitch drink', which includes but is not limited to: White Zinfandel, vodka cranberry, any mixed drink with Diet Coke, a frozen margarita, or a Fuzzy Navel, please prepare yourself to be ridiculed accordingly.

If you're going to call my cell phone to yell at me for whatever reason, please have the courtesy to wait until after work so you don't put my entire day in the shitter, MOM.

(Fashionably) Late To The Party.

2010-01-04T22:33:00.005-05:00

Oh, my little kittens, how I've neglected you. I do apologize, and I could offer up all manner of excuses, but that's just what they'd be -- excuses. Lame ones at that.

So...my holidays were good, I was spoiled at Christmas, again. Santa thought I was a very good girl indeed. He must read the blog. I mean, how many times did I complain how awful my old P.O.S. Kodak was? Thanks, 'Santa'! I also got a new alarm clock with iPod dock, a new iron (You know, for the three times a year I need to iron my clothes), a pair of ugly/cute Hello Kitty slippers, and the usual money and gift cards from the extended family.

My New Year's Eve was quiet. I don't usually do much for New Year's - in fact, the past few years I've stayed home, made myself a fabulous meal, watched a movie, and been in bed by 11. This year, a friend from Twitter invited me to - of all things - a Bingo night at a fire station near her home. Apparently it's a big deal every year - there's a dinner (pork and sauerkraut, naturally - gotta love the Pennsylvania Dutch), five hours (!!) of bingo, then a band from 11 until 2. We had to skip the band, unfortunately - the bad weather kicked up and I had a 45 minute drive home. No money was won, but a fun time was had, and I am frightened of old Bingo ladies now more than ever. I'm pretty sure if I actually had won any money, I would have been flayed alive by grannies with blue bouffant hair dos.

New Year's day I sat around the house, slept, and watched TV, including the HGTV Dream Home Giveaway special. I'm so going to win, by the way. When I do, you're all invited to stay for a weekend. I'll make pancakes and junk. I also took some time that day to think about New Year's resolutions.

I don't usually subscribe to that notion. I'm not exactly the kind of person that keeps their resolutions (who is, really, but it goes double for me). However, this year I've set myself a few goals, which include (but are not limited to):

Being more active, both with exercise and socially - I'm in danger of being a shut-in
Cutting out junk food and snacks in between meals (just the first step on a very long road, I figure slow and steady and all that jazz)
Try to be more open with others -- I'm actually pretty shy in person, and I realized that being shy and quiet can come off as bitchy and closed off. Need to remedy that.
Manage my money a little better - I'm doing okay, but went a little overboard with spending the past month or so. I just want to try to reel it in a little and save more money, so I might take an actual vacation this summer.
Put that fancy new camera to good use and take lots of pictures, maybe even find a reasonable photo-taking class.
Get the house more in order so the basement and spare bedroom look more like liveable space (Ha! HGTV term, bitchez!) and less like rented storage facilities.
Write more often on this here blog.
Comment more often on others' blogs.
Get Jasper a damn haircut already.
Recycle.

I figure I'd sneak one in there that I already do, so I'm already ahead of the game. HA!

Happy New Year, and all that jazz. Instead of hoping for a fabulous 2010, let's go out and damn well make sure it is.

In Which I Get All Maudlin And Junk.

2009-12-18T11:35:00.008-05:00

Sometimes during the work day, my mother and I will email back and forth just to talk about what we're up to, what's going on this weekend, or what have you. Closer to holidays or family get-togethers the emails fly fast and furious as we talk about plans, menus, gifts bought, and the various ways in which my grandmother is pissing her off (again).

This morning I sent my mother an email asking about a new address for a family member who recently moved, and the exchange continued into how each others' Christmas preparations were coming along. They're supposedly calling for plenty of snow in eastern PA this weekend, and we've both planned on taking advantage of being house bound by baking cookies and finishing up gift wrapping.

I mentioned as an aside that while going over my list of Christmas card recipients, I realized that I no longer needed to include my Aunt Madlyn & Uncle Bob on that list, and started to cry. She replied that she'd "been a mess all morning. Even though I know there is no one there & the phone no longer works, I want to call. I just want to call that number. Have been bawling all morning." And then my heart broke.

It's so easy to forget in the hustle and bustle of the season those we miss the most. The ones who shaped our fondest holiday memories & who in many ways, make us remember why this season is so special. For my mother, Aunt Madlyn is that person, and I know the pain from losing her combined with the joy of the holidays will make this a bittersweet season.

One of my goals for the holidays this year has been to help my mother in anyway possible, because I know it's going to be hard for her. Whether it's a day out shopping with no complaints, offering to help wrap gifts or bake an extra batch of cookies, or just a simple phone call to let her know I'm thinking of her...I just feel the need to connect with her even more since Aunt Madlyn passed. Because, you see - that person, the one who makes Christmas so special every year? For me, it's always been my mom.

We Need a Little Christmas! Right This Very Minute!

2009-12-13T21:19:00.010-05:00

I got my Christmas tree Saturday morning, and for the first time in six Christmases in this house I succeeded in buying a tree that A:) took less than 15 minutes to find, and B:) does not take up half my living room. I have a tendency to fall in love with trees that are 8 feet tall and 5 feet wide, and in a 900 square foot home that's asking for trouble.

I've really scaled back on the decorations in the house this year. I think it's a combination of being tired of the both the type of decorations I have (very country Christmas-ish; I'm over it), and the amount of decorations I own (wayyyy too many; I'm also over the clutter). I've shelved a good 75% of my stuff, and bought just a couple new things to mix it up. I didn't want to spend too much money on something as frivolous as new Christmas decorations. That is, after all, what the day after Christmas is for. Ahem.

Anyway, back to the tree. Since I bought the smaller tree, I needed fewer ornaments. This is a shame, since my ornaments are ridiculousy adorable and thus need to be seen.

A Christmas cupcake? Oh, for cute.

Seriously. A bulldog puppy? Seriously.

Yes, that is Bugs Bunny and the monster (his name, btw, is Gossamer). That's probably my favorite.

That picture is terrible, and I apologize. But LOOK HOW CUTE. It even plays THE SONG. The cuteness, it cannot be denied.

Pssh. Please. Like you didn't see this coming. I need to stay out of Target before Christmas, because every year they inevitably have new Hello Kitty ornaments, and if I'm not careful I'll end up with a very Hello Kitty Christmas.

WAIT A MINUTE.

Kidding. Kind of.

Anyway, here's my tree, in all its glory, and my dog, totally not giving a rat's ass:

I Got Your Hustle and Bustle Right HERE, Pal.

2009-12-06T21:23:00.007-05:00

I took Friday off this past week to do some holiday shopping with Momma-San. She's never been to The Promenade Shops, which aren't too far from here, there's a Stein Mart in the South Mall that we both wanted to check out, and my local mall has some new stores that moms had never seen either. A lot to accomplish, to be sure, but we got an early enough start and had determination on our side. Plus our propensity for pig-headedness.

What we did not take into account, however, was a certain President's visit to the area on the same day. I was hoping we would avoid POTUS for the most part, I knew he was going to be giving a speech at a local Community College, but I thought he wouldn't be anywhere near where Momma-San and I would be shopping.

Uh. Suffice to say, I was wrong. The presidential visit on Friday basically shut down all traffic in and around the Allentown area. At one point we were stopped on Tilghman St. from passing underneath Rte. 309. We sat and waited, and about five minutes later we saw the motorcade pass by on the overpass.

I waved, but I don't think he saw me. Heh.

We browsed at Stein Mart and the South Mall, then headed to the Promenade Shops, mainly for lunch. I don't think mom realized the shops there are a little more upscale than where we usually shop. It was fun to look around, though; mom found a nice new coat at Old Navy, and we had a great lunch at Pandini's. Gotta love a good wood fire pizza. After browsing a bit at the Promenade, it was off to the Lehigh Valley Mall, and by this time we were tired and just the tiniest bit annoyed with each other. At least I was.

Now, let me explain. When my mother goes shopping, even if it's Christmas shopping for other people, she always ends up shopping for herself. Always. Maybe she needs a shirt, pair of pants, or (as was the case this day) a new jacket. She did buy the jacket earlier that day, but by the time we got to the mall, she felt she needed a new scarf to go with the jacket. So much so that she would get impatient with me when I found a store I wanted to shop in. I swear, I wasn't in Lane Bryant for thirty seconds before she was all, "What do you need in here?" and *heavy sigh*. God forbid I'd want to look for myself for a few minutes. We went in a few other stores, but if there was nothing she was interested in, right away it was, "You know, I did want to leave by 3:30." and "I still want to take a look in Pottery Barn." and "You could find such a better deal on those Yankee Candles at the Crossings, you know."

By this time I had had it. I said "FINE, I'm done, let's go." We finished browsing the stores she wanted to look at (Yeah, 40 bucks for pillows at Pottery Barn? Like Dad wouldn't have a stroke if you brought those home.), grabbed a coffee for the ride home, and left. My tally for the day was one nice shirt for Big Poppa, a loaf of Challa bread for french toast from the Fresh Market, and the cutest scarf ever at Old Navy for myself, naturally(It's not listed on their website, unfortunately. I'll try to take a pic soon, it's too cute to not be shared). I don't really have that many gifts to buy, and I'm a fairly efficient shopper, so I should be able to finish up my holiday purchases in one or two more trips, which I'll most definitely be taking ALONE, MOTHER.

Quick Thoughts On Internet Dating

2009-11-23T23:17:00.002-05:00

Attention men who keep attempting to contact me on my forgotten internet dating profile:

If you send me a 'wink' or a 'smile' on said Internet Dating Site but live in Kalamazoo, Kauai, or California, do not expect a reply. If in fact I do decide I'm ready to date, I'd appreciate someone within driving range.

Dude. It is Two Thousand and Mother Fucking Nine. Put a damn picture on your profile already. I'm not asking for a lot - not a professional photographer's portrait. A recent (as in after 1997) close up of your face, even by cell phone, will do nicely.

Don't make comments about the size of my ass and expect a reply.

Thanks for checking out my forgotten internet dating profile, and have a nice day.

If It's A Girl? Jennifer, Of Course.

2009-11-18T22:23:00.004-05:00

My ~~brother from another mother~~ closest work friend Wilson just told me this week that his wife is expecting their second child. I reacted in the typical girl fashion; that is to say I squealed, clapped my hands, jumped up and down, and tackle/hugged him until he said, "Okay, okay, shh."

I tend to get excited at good news. Ask my BFF J, who gave me the same news as Wilson did earlier this week and I almost dropped the phone. (Yep, I'm going to be 'Aunt Jenn' again, I'm so thrilled for J & E. I'm also not drinking the water, because. Dude. So many babies!)

Anyway. With impending baby news comes impending 'What are we going to name the baby' speculation, and Wilson wasted no time combing websites looking for names for his (possibly) baby boy. I rallied for Lucius. As in Malfoy. Wilson's wife J shot it down hard. Sad Panda.

They're looking for a name that goes with their chosen middle name (a family name), Justice, which just made this the most awesome game ever. I've taken to inter-office emailing him when inspiration strikes. Here are just a few of my favorites.

To:Wilson
From: JC
Subj: I've Got It.

Knight.

Knight Ryder Wilson.

You're welcome.

To:JC
From:Wilson
Subj:Re:I've Got It.

No.

Damn.

To:Wilson
From:JC
Subj:YES.

Stark.

Stark Justice Wilson.

Dude. You are FUCKING WELCOME.

To:JC
From:Wilson
Subj:Re:YES

No.

Sonofa...

To:Wilson
From:JC
Subj:Seriously.

Steel.

Steel Justice Wilson.

AM BABY-NAMING GENIUS. NEED TO WRITE BOOK ON NAMING BABIES.

Didn't get a reply to this one, actually.

Big mistake, Wilson. Huge.

Now I start to get desperate.

To:Wilson
From:JC
(No subject)

Tracker.

Trapper?

TRIPPER. AS IN JACK.

You know, Three's Company?

COME ON.

*Crickets*

The hell? THIS IS BABY-NAMING GOLD. YOU ARE MISSING OUT, MR. WILSON.

The Hail Mary:

To:Wilson
From:JC
(no Subject)

Plaxico?

T. Rex?

SPIDERMAN

Nothing.

I'm entirely underappreciated.

Wilson told me later that so far he and J are liking the name Logan.

"Like Wolverine, snikt snikt?" I said, hopefully, making Wolverine hands (like jazz hands! Only with pantomiming Adamantium claws!)

"As in Wolverine, snikt snikt."

"I suppose that's fine."

SQUEE!

The Lone Vegetable

2009-11-17T13:26:00.005-05:00

My family is having Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt and uncle's house this year. I messaged my aunt on facebook and asked what I could bring besides my usual pecan pie. I offered a vegetable, because they're usually lacking on our Thanksgiving table. She politely declined, saying that "we're all set" with dinner and to just bring the pie.

Then I emailed Mama San and asked if she and my aunt had finalized the menu, and again, wondering if I could bring anything else. "Oh, yeah, we've got it all set." She wrote. "Turkey (of course), cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, and my swiss vegetable medley." Hmmm. Meat, starch, starch, starch, and a veggie dish swimming in cream of celery soup, sour cream, and swiss cheese.

I am so bringing a vegetable.

This one takes literally ten minutes to make, perfect to throw together while your turkey is resting on the counter.

Haricot Verts (baby green beans) with Caramelized Shallots

1 lb. green beans (I could only find regular beans at the store, but the baby ones are much more tender and cook faster)
1 medium shallot, diced fine
2 TB butter
salt
pepper

Boil water in a shallow stainless steel pan. Cook green beans for 3-5 minutes, until tender with a slight crunch. Transfer beans to a bowl of ice water. This shocks them, to stop from over cooking and to help the beans keep their color. Dry the pan and return to medium heat. Add butter and diced shallot. Cook shallots until browned. Drain beans, return to pan, and heat through. Salt and pepper to taste.

Your family with thank you. And, by extension, me. So, you know. You're welcome.

Jimmy Walker Used to Say Dynomite (That's right!)

2009-11-16T20:52:00.004-05:00

Ah, Adam Sandler. How the mighty have fallen.

In celebration of ~~Fat Girl Day~~ Thanksgiving next week I'm sharing some of my favorite Turkey Day recipes. First up is my favorite Thanksgiving side dish, the classic Pennsylvania Dutch filling. We call it 'filling' in northeast PA, but you might know it as stuffing or dressing. My mom usually doubles (or triples, for eff's sake) this recipe because she has an instinctive need to cook for an army.

Gram's Chicken Filling
1 bag potato bread cubes
4 stalks celery
1 medium onion
3 TB fresh parsley
1 stick of butter (just roll with it, darlings, it's Thanksgiving)
2-3 cups chicken stock
salt
pepper

Spread the bread cubes out on a sheet pan and toast in the oven at 350 degrees until cubes are browned and crusty.

Dice celery and onions, chop parsley fine. (I toss them all in a food processor and make quick work of them.) Saute the vegetables with 4 TB of butter until slightly browned. Melt the remaining 4Tb of butter with the vegetables and toss in a large bowl with the bread cubes. Add the chicken stock until the bread is moistened but not super wet. Mix well, pour into a baking dish, and bake at 375 about 45 minutes, or until browned and slightly crusty on top. Serve with or without gravy.

Stove Top, schmove top.

The Long-Awaited And Highly Anticipated Final Kitchen Renovation Post, Six Months Later.

2009-11-09T14:30:00.003-05:00

Alternate Title: How to Remodel a Kitchen for under Three Grand.

Or: Next Year, I'm Using My Tax Return For A Friggin' Vacation.

Step One:
Do the majority of the work yourself, or find someone in your family that will do the work for cheap. And by cheap I mean: will work for lunch, beer, and a nice dinner out when all is said and done.
Enter Big Poppa.

Honestly and truly, if it weren't for my father, this project would have never gotten done, because I simply did not have the budget to hire a contractor or handyman.
My daddy is awesome. I love him dearly. I owe him a steak. And possibly some King Crab legs.

Step Two:
Realize that you will not be able to do everything. My main goal with the renovation was to install a new floor, and maybe get a fridge. I told Big Poppa going into the project if anything else was to be done, I would want to do it right; remove the wallpaper, install new countertops, paint the cabinets, replace fixtures, new sink...I knew I would never be able to afford brand new cabinets, and I was okay with that. I think they came out pretty nice anyway. I ended up not getting the new fridge yet, deciding instead to focus on the big picture since the fridge is still in working condition. I'm going to do some bargain hunting after Christmas, maybe then.

I got extremely lucky with the new countertops, which brings me to...

Step Three:
DO NOT be afraid to bargain hunt. Do your homework when you're shopping for materials. Do the leg work. Look online for coupons, check craigslist, poll your coworkers, comparison shop. If I hadn't done that, I would have never found the remnant sale at the stone yard, and therefore would never have gotten my gorgeous countertops.

Sigh. So pretty....

One good tip: Look on eBay for coupons for Lowe's and/or Home Depot. They can usually be bought for about two dollars each, and can save you a buttload of money.

Step Four:
Be prepared for mistakes. For foul-ups. For cussing, for fighting, and for whining. Oh, good lord, the whining.

Mostly on my part. (Yes, that is a Hello Kitty toaster. Don't judge me.)

Step Five:
Be patient. Don't expect the project to get done over night. We started the renovation back in early May, and just finished last weekend. Six months, start to finish.

Not that we were working every weekend for six months straight, obviously. Just be aware, life gets in the way. I didn't want my dad's summer to be taken away from him. I made sure he wasn't pressured to get the floor finished. I understood he had things at his house he wanted to get done as well. Something to think about when relying on friends/family to help or to do the work for you.

Frustrating? You bet your ass. There were weeks when I just wanted to finish the work myself. When I wanted to throw my hands up in defeat and say, "Screw it, I'll just live with the crappy linoleum."

But I was patient. And I waited. And finally, three weeks ago, we began the final stages of this project, this renovation. This labor of love.

Because I loved this project, no matter how frustrating it got.

I love my dad. For taking on this project, for dealing with my incessant whining, and for helping me realize my 'vision' for my kitchen (why, hello, melodrama. Welcome to my blog.).

And I really love my kitchen.

Not Listed: Laundry.

2009-11-08T21:25:00.002-05:00

Things I Did Today, A Numbered List:

Slept until 8:30 am
Watched an inordinate amount of HGTV
Ate two containers of Yakisoba ramen
Lay on the couch
Napped twice
Talked to mom on the phone
Checked facebook
Watched Shakespeare in Love for the 15th time
Watched The Amazing Race
Listed what I did today numerically

Things I Did Not Do Today, Also Numbered and List-ified:

Clean the kitchen
Vacuum
Learn to salsa
Scrub the toilet
Get a tattoo
Bake a cake
Make the bed
Cut the dog's toenails
Mow the lawn
Declare war on New Zeland.

There's much to be said for being a couch potato. Next time, New Zeland.

Drunken Quotes (And Tweets and Facebook Statuses) From Last Night

2009-11-07T11:06:00.006-05:00

Before Dinner, 5 PM

Me via FB: Dinner tonight at the Melting Pot, tomorrow at Cactus Blue. Saving money, I'm doing it wrong.

Cheryl via FB: Dinner at the melting pot :)

7PM

Me via Twitter: No tables at the Melting pot until 9 w/out a res. Bar service it is, I want fondue.

7:45 PM

Me, to Cheryl: mmmm, this wine is good.

Me via Twitter: Mmmmm, Gerwurztraminer.

8:00 PM

Cheryl, to me: That was good, but I'm still hungry. And those martinis look fantastic.

Me: NO MORE DRINKS. We'll stop at McDonald's or something, get you something to sober up.

Cheryl: OOOH, FRENCH FRIES!

Me: Yes, we'll get you some french fries.

Cheryl: I want some onion rings. Like the beer battered kind. Not those breaded shits I can buy in the store. Seriously, fuck those kind.

Me via FB: BTW, Cheryl on two glasses of White Zin? Hilarioussss. (Also seen here.)

Me: I don't feel like going home yet, it's early.

Cheryl: Me, either.

Me: OOH! We should go to the Sands!

Cheryl: OKAY!

8:30. PM

Upon leaving the restaurant, we pass a small cafe that has closed for the evening with their menu posted on the window.

Cheryl: QUESADILLAS!

Me, via Twitter: Heading to The Sands with drunk bitch in tow.

And it all goes downhill from there. There was gambling, boobs, creepers, fantastic Irish coffee, and humping of dessert products. And because of facebook and Twitter, it's all been recorded for internet posterity.

Thanks, social media.

Blerg.

2009-11-04T23:37:00.003-05:00

Minimum Blog Reqirement, Day 2. Sue me.

Not much to report except my Phillies are, I'm sorry to say, not repeat World Series Champions. (And I will be the first to say I had serious doubts that they would be, so keep the snarky "Philadelphia fans suck" comments to yourself, TYVM.) Jayson Werth, if you need consoling, you know who to call.

Also, I fail at Cupcake Pops. I was attempting them for a work baby shower, and it did not. Go well. Suffice to say I have (delicious) balls of cake and frosting in my fridge, and I doubt I'm going to have them covered in chocolate before 8 AM tomorrow. Heh. Balls. The bruschetta I made came out good, though. Ooh! There's a post for tomorrow.

Because Getting Soused on Campus Would be Awesome.

2009-11-03T23:04:00.006-05:00

Day three into NaBloPoMo and I'm reduced to the Minimum Blog Requirement. Good thing I'm an unofficial NaBloPoMo'er so I don't feel so bad for my lack of motivation today.

Today over lunch hour, I went to a nearby mall with a couple co-workers for lunch (Five! Five dollar! Five dollar foot looonnnnggg!) and some window shopping. We stopped in Bath & Body Works so D. could use a gift card and while we were in the store I sniffed about five million different bath products. By the time we walked out I had a headache and smelled like a hooker on Christmas Eve. But I did buy a pretty-smelling new body spritz, so. Win/win.

I realized today I have no knowledge of wine. Well, I know the difference between Reisling, Chardonnay, and Merlot, but, uh. That's about it. I figured this out while browsing my local Wine and Spirits Shop (We don't have 'liquor stores' in PA, you see) looking for belated birthday gifts for coworkers. I don't know which wine is better than which. I don't know what's supposed to be sweet and what's supposed to be dry. I do, however, know that Wild Vines Raspberry Merlot is friggin' delicious. In the end, I purchased two nice moderately-priced bottles, and I'll keep my fingers crossed that I chose right. I heard that a local community college offers a non-credit wine appreciation course. I think I might have to sign up.

MA! THE MEATLOAF!

2009-11-02T21:41:00.002-05:00

I never really liked meatloaf when I was a kid, unless it was smothered in ketchup and served on bread. I think it's because my mom enjoys her proteins cooked until they resemble charcoal, whereas I prefer meat to have...uh...flavor? Not a slight on Mama-San, I'm just a medium-rare kinda girl. So the first time I made a meatloaf I looked around for a good recipe, one that I wouldn't just want to eat on a sandwich. Something different than the usual 'ground beef/bread crumbs/eggs/onion/ketchup' variety. I made Cheeseburger Meatloaf, which I have to say, I love. It has cheddar cheese and (can you believe it?) diced up pickles in it, and it's really tasty. I wish I could find the recipe online but it seems to have disappeared.

Where am I going with this?

Oh, right. A few weeks ago I was in the mood for meatloaf but something sorta Tex-Mex too. A few minutes later, boo-yah, I came up with this, the meatloaf of friggin' champions, my Southwestern Turkey Meatloaf. You should make it this week.

Southwestern Turkey Meatloaf

1 pound Low Fat Ground Turkey
1 whole Egg
2 Tablespoons Frozen Goya Brand Sofrito, Thawed
1 can 15 Oz. Black Beans
8 ounces, weight Grated Monterey Jack Cheese
½ cups Bread Crumbs
2 Tablespoons Chopped Fresh Cilantro
1 teaspoon Ground Cumin
1 teaspoon Smoked Paprika
½ teaspoons Salt
½ teaspoons Fresh Ground Pepper
14 ounces, fluid Enchilada Sauce (can)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a sheet pan (with raised edges) with parchment paper.

Mix egg and Sofrito in a large bowl. Drain and rinse black beans. Add beans to the egg mixture and mash, just to break up the beans. Add cheese, bread crumbs, cilantro, and spices and mix together. Add ground turkey and mix thoroughly, being careful not to over-mix.

Spray a loaf pan with nonstick spray. Press meat mixture into the pan firmly, to form a loaf. Turn meatloaf out onto the parchment-lined sheet pan. Cover meatloaf with enchilada sauce and bake for 45 to 60 minutes, or until it reaches an internal temperature of 160 degrees.

Serve with warm corn and black bean salsa on the side.

Warm Corn and Black Bean Salsa

1 bag (10 To 12 Oz.) Frozen Yellow Corn, Thawed
1 can (15 Oz.) Black Beans, Drained And Rinsed
½ whole Medium Red Onion, Diced
1 whole Jalapeno, Seeded And Diced Fine
1 Tablespoon Cilantro, Chopped
2 Tablespoons Fresh Lime Juice
½ teaspoons Salt
¼ teaspoons Ground Pepper
1 Tablespoon Vegetable Oil

Heat oil in a pan. Saute corn for 3 to 5 minutes, until slightly browned. Add beans, onion, and jalapeno and cook for 3 minutes more. Stir in cilantro and lime juice, season with salt and pepper, and serve.

You're welcome.

By the way, if you're wondering where the title of the post came from? Wedding Crashers.

Also it's 8:30 but it feels like 9:30.

2009-11-01T08:31:00.003-05:00

Now that the time change nonsense is out of the way, can we please get on with November? Every time we have to change the clocks I have to go through the whole "It feels like this time, but it's actually this time" dance with Big Poppa, who's a total goober that thinks he's funny and that it's the first time I've heard that joke. But he's my daddy and he does things like remodel my kitchen and take me to Penn State games so I let it slide.

Speaking of the kitchen reno, you should know that it's pretty much done. We started on the floor last weekend and just finished it yesterday. We just have to put in stuff with names like 'Base Shoe' and "Cave Moulding', which are the kind of things you install so you don't have an inch of space between the floor and the wall, so it's kind of important? I guess. I'll have pictures up after today, hopefully.

On a side note, I previously mentioned we were thinking about taking the new floor all the way into the living room, which would look awesome, but after the experience we had installing the kitchen floor, that's not going to happen right away. I won't get into the details just in case anyone who might want to purchase my house in the future somehow finds this entry, but last weekend was not fun. There were many 'sons of bitches' and 'mother effers' and 'stupid whores' in my kitchen last weekend. And they were all related to the laminate flooring. Odd. So we're going to wait until after the holidays to install the living room floor.

Yay, new project.

She says without an ounce of excitement.

Bah. Humbug, Even.

2009-10-28T14:54:00.009-04:00

Halloween is this Saturday, and my town always schedules Trick-or-Treat night the Friday before, from 6-8 pm. The first two years I lived in Allentown I was working middle shift at my previous job, so I was unfortunately not able to hand out candy to the neighborhood kids. The first year I was home to hand out candy I was super excited. I hung decorations and carved a pumpkin; I even dressed up for the occasion. Granted, I was in scrubs and a surgical cap, so I didn't exactly exert myself getting a costume, but hey. I participated, damn it. And that's what counts.

What I noticed that first year was that not a lot of people on my block seemed open for business during Trick-or-Treat. No lights on, no Jack O'Lanterns, no candy. I kind of blew it off as Crab-Ass Old Man Disease, figuring most of the people on my block just weren't into it. I only ended up with a few Trick-or-Treaters that year, and an assload of mini Baby Ruths made it to work the next day.

Over the past couple of years I've seen an upswing in the number of Trick-or-Treaters I get ringing my doorbell, but the kind of kids that have been coming by? Let's just say they're not your 'conventional' Trick-or-Treaters.

What's the difference between 'Conventional' and 'Unconventional' Trick-or-Treaters, you ask? Here, how about a list?

Conventional Young Trick or Treater: Are between ages 3-7, almost always accompanied by a parent or older sibling, wears requisite store-bought costume, usually of the Disney or Marvel Superhero variety. Carries plastic Jack O'Lantern for candy procurement. Says "Trick or Treat!" in the most excited and adorable way possible. Most times too shy to engage in conversation, i.e. "What are you supposed to be?" Usually the first to arrive in order to be home by bed time. Uterus-exploding potential (Scale of 1-5): 4

Conventional Older Trick or Treaters: Are between ages 8-12, sometimes accompanied by a parent but usually travel in packs (therefore slightly dangerous). Usually wears store-bought costume, i.e. Ninja, Witch, Harry Potter, but older kids sometimes go for the Zombie/movie serial killer look. Carries plastic store-bought Halloween bag or pillow case for candy procurement. Says "Trick or Treat" slightly excitedly, but oftentimes muffled. Will engage in conversation, especially if it means extra candy. Usually do not show up until after dinner. Uterus-exploding potential: 2.5

Non-Conventional Young Trick-or-Treaters: Are 24 months old and younger, always accompanied by an older sibling but carried by a parent who also holds Candy Procurement Device, sometimes a plush variety of the aforementioned plastic Jack O'Lantern. This type of Trick-or-Treater will be clad in the MOST ADORABLE OUTFIT EVER, thus making it impossible for you to deny Candy Deployment. DO NOT BE FOOLED. THE CANDY IS NOT FOR THE CHILD. Trick-or-Treater does not engage in conversation, preferring instead to gape at you and drool. Parents will say "Trick or Treat" and smile at you expectantly, as if to say "Look at my adorable baby, isn't he/she so cute? Surely you'd like to give him/her candy for being so exceptionally cute even though he/she can't eat candy yet and it's totally for me but we don't need to acknowledge that so hows about you pony up?" Usually show up during the 7PM rush, so you don't realize you just gave candy to a 26-year old exploiting their child for a mini-Snickers bar. Uterus-exploding potential: Child alone: 5+ With Parent: 3. You don't fool me. I know who that candy's for, jerk.

Non-Conventional Older Trick-or-Treaters (Type One): Are ages 11-14. Slightly too old to be Trick-or-Treating, but you cut them some slack because who the hell else is going to eat those little Butterfingers? Travel in packs, tend to dress alike(usually as 'Thugs') and try to confuse you during Candy Deployment in an attempt to get more candy. Will begrudgingly grumble "Trick or Treat", grab candy, and run. Usually show up towards the end of the night, probably banking on the fact that you're hoping to get rid of your candy before 8. Uterus-exploding potential: .5

Non-Conventional Much Older Trick-or-Treaters (Type Two): Are aged anywhere from 14 to 18. Definitely too old to be Trick-or-Treating, but your ass isn't going to say anything because those little bastards are most likely strapped. Travel in packs, mostly to confuse and intimidate. Will say "Trick or Treat", but you're not really listening because you just tossed candy at them and shut the damn door. Usually show up right before the end of the night, banking that you'll give them candy just so they'll go away and not rip out your hydrangeas. Uterus-exploding potential: Minus 20.

So with all the scary teenagers, surly preteens, and parents thieving their kids' candy, I think I'm kind of Scrooged out on Halloween this year. Who wants to go to the movies?

(Whole Grain) Penne alla Vodka

2009-10-22T22:07:00.004-04:00

I had this for lunch at a local pizza place a couple of weeks ago, and figured it would be easy enough to recreate at home. Which it was. It was also delicious. You should make it as soon as possible.

Penne with Vodka Sauce

1 pound Whole Grain Penne Pasta
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil
4 oz. Pancetta, Cubed
1 whole Shallot, Finely Diced
1 clove Garlic, Minced
¾ cups Vodka
28 oz. Canned Crushed Tomatoes
¼ cups Heavy Cream
4 leaves Basil Shredded
¼ cups Parmesan Cheese, Grated
Salt
Fresh Ground Pepper

While waiting for pasta water to boil and pasta to cook, brown pancetta in oil over medium-high heat until browned and crispy. Add diced shallot and garlic and saute for a few minutes until softened.

Add vodka to the pan and reduce, allowing alcohol to cook off slightly. Add crushed tomatoes and season according to taste. Stir in cream, basil, and cheese, and toss with cooked pasta. Serve with extra cheese on top.

Side notes: You don't need to use Grey Goose vodka, but I'd stay away from the Cousin Nick. You want a subtle kick to the sauce, not the flavor of rubbing alcohol. If you prefer to stay meatless, feel free to omit the pancetta and add some frozen peas at the end to bump the veggie factor.

Mangia!

Printable recipe available here at Tasty Kitchen

Plus I'm Really Concentrating on the Phillies Right Now, So...

2009-10-21T08:39:00.006-04:00

I've been trying to think of something to write about, but most of the funny shit that's happened lately has been that you-had-to-be-there kind of shit and I try to write about them but the words come out all wrong and halfway through the post it's so not funny anymore so what the hell is the point of boring you with it so I give up and end up not posting for ~~weeks~~ days at a time.

Like last Thursday when my best friend J gave me her house key so I could feed the fish while she and her family went out of town but then had to come to my house later that night and get it when she realized she'd left the house without a spare and had no way to get back in the house the night before they left for Orlando. See? Funny as hell then, not so much now. Also proof that I'm not the only dip shit around these parts.

Or Saturday when Big Poppa and I were headed to the Penn State/Minnesota game in the middle of a Nor'Easter and at some point during the increasingly snowy drive westward on Rte. 80 he turned and said to me, "Why the hell are we doing this today?" And I said, "DEDICATION! We're supporting our team! We don't want to lose a hundred bucks on the tickets!" To which he said, "Also, we're jackasses. Don't forget that." Funny then, not so much now.

I do have some recipes to post, which I'll get to soon, because one is a southwestern style turkey meatloaf that you need to make, like, immediately, but I have some pressing matters to attend to at home first. Like the laundry and the vaccumming and oh yeah did I mention we're finally installing the new kitchen floor this weekendOHMYFUGGINGAHI'MSOEXCITED!!!1!!

So there's that. Until then I'll continue to bore you with stories that are only funny to me.

This is Only a Test. Were this a Real Post, You'd Have Noticed the Excessive Commas and Run-On Sentences.

2009-10-14T08:45:00.005-04:00

Apologies for the revolving layouts, I wouldn't have changed it again, but noticed with the last layout I was using the right margin was cutting into photos and text. And when one is not proficient in the HTML, one must deal with only being able to use the blog templates provided by Blogger.

Which, the hell, Blogger? Can't you get some newer templates?

Anyway.

NO SOUP FOR YOU!

2009-10-11T19:03:00.005-04:00

I've made five batches of soup since the beginning of September. Five batches. I can't explain it, I guess I've just been in a soup kind of mood. I came up with this one all by myself sometime last year and it came out really well. I made some whole grain ziti with broccoli last week and had some broccoli left over, and today was one of those perfect fall days - sunny yet cool - just perfect for soup, so that's what I made. The fact that I'll have leftovers of it for days is just a bonus.

Broccoli Cheddar Soup

2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
1 whole Medium Onion, Large Dice
4 whole Carrots, Peeled And Chopped
1 whole Large Head Of Broccoli Including Stems
5 cups Low-sodium Vegetable Stock, Separated
2 Tablespoons Butter
2 Tablespoons Flour
1 cup Half-and-half
2 cups Shredded Sharp Yellow Cheddar
½ cups Heavy Cream
2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
½ teaspoons Salt
¼ teaspoons Fresh Ground Pepper

Cut the broccoli into florets, peel the stems, and chop into approximately 1-inch cubes. Saute all vegetables in olive oil with salt and pepper, covered, until slightly softened and onion is translucent. Add four cups of vegetable stock and allow to come to a boil. Reduce heat and cover. Simmer until vegetables are very soft, about 20 to 30 minutes.

Melt butter in a separate pan. Add flour and whisk together to make a roux – cooking flour completely. Slowly whisk in remaining one cup of stock and half and half and allow to thicken slightly. Add shredded cheese and melt to create a cheese sauce.

Pour part of the vegetable and stock mixture into a blender. Place lid on blender, but remove center and place a towel over the hole to allow steam to escape. Puree vegetables and stock until almost smooth. Do this in a few batches so you don’t overload your blender. This could also be done in a food processor or with an immersion blender. Return pureed vegetables to the pot and combine with cheese mixture. Stir in cream if desired and adjust seasoning. Serve with a sprinkle of shredded cheese on top.

Printable recipe located here on Tasty Kitchen

I Fail at Driving.

2009-10-10T11:16:00.005-04:00

I went out last night (no, really) to celebrate a co-worker's husband's 30th birthday at...wait for it...a BAR. I KNOW, RIGHT? Me actually being social, it's a miracle. Or so some of the locals I follow on Twitter tell me. (Seriously kids, would a weekend 'Tweet-up' kill you guys? I get tired during the week.)

Anyway, the bar where the party was being held is located in downtown Easton, which if you've never been there is a mish mash of one-way streets and traffic circles and on-street parking. I've been down there quite a few times so I at first I wasn't concerned so much with finding a place to park, but navigating the traffic circle and surrounding area at night proved to be ~~a fucking nightmare~~ a tad challenging.

I pull up the street to the flashing red light to enter the cirlce, where flashing red lights mean...go, apparently. I wait for oncoming traffic to pass, then pull out into the circle, and of course am promptly met with a solid red light, which means stop. There's no one around me, so I edge to the right lane as a quick glance around the circle has determined there's no available parking directly on the circle (of COURSE it's not that easy). I pull down one of the side streets and the second block down has empty spots, so I edge over, only to see that the whole block is a bus stop, and the people standing there were indeed waiting for the bus. I got nervous that folks standing there would think I was slowing down and pulling over to offer someone a ride or purchase illicit substances, so I quickly pull back into traffic and continue down the street. Nothing on the next block, or the one after that. And now we're four or five blocks away from the circle and the bar and screw that noise because I bought new shoes for the occasion and while they're not totally uncomfortable I don't relish walking extended distances in them. I hang a U-ey in a gas station parking lot and head back towards the circle.

Solid red light. I take the time to scan the immediate area for any openings (nothing) and orient myself as to the location of myself and my intended destination, and steel myself for another trip around the circle andheywhatthefuckOMGI'msorryJESUSCHRISTI'MDRIVINGHERE! That went well. Back down another side street, to no avail. I turn right, then right again to head back and HOLY SHIT I'M GOING THE WRONG WAY DOWN A ONE-WAY STREET! ABORT ABORT ABORT! I quickly pull into an alleyway that leads into some creepy-looking private underground parking but probably costs 10 grand a year to park there, just barely am able to turn around in the alley, turn out onto the street the correct way, and head back to the circle yet again. Still cannot avoid pulling out in front of someone. Still no available parking. I try another side street, and nothing. No almost incidents, but no parking either. Lather, rinse, repeat, and I'm back down another side street, which looks an awful lot like one I've already been down but HOLY CRAP THERE'S A SPOT! And it's only a block from the circle! TURN AROUND, QUICK! Which I do. ON A ONE-WAY STREET. THE WRONG WAY.

I pull into the parking spot, which is the easiest part of the drive for me because back when I was learning to drive parallel parking was the one thing my father made me do over and over again even though anyone who took their driver's test at the DMV in Mt. Pocono, PA knows they made you do a three-point turn instead, so when I took the test and they made me do a three-point turn I failed because I hadn't practiced even though I was taking the test in my grandma's tiny red Ford Festiva. Thanks, Dad. *eyeroll* Anyway, I throw the car in park and get out, approximately fifteen minutes after I started looking for a spot, and a good ten minutes after I passed up the spot that was four blocks away. The spot that, had I taken, would have ensured an earlier arrival at the party, much less swearing and anxiety, and much less opportunity for traffic violations. If you think I've 'learned my lesson' or something you'd be wrong. I'll probably do the same damn thing next time.

The Gospel of Jenn

2009-10-06T13:51:00.012-04:00

It's not fat, it's an extra layer of awesome.

The term 'Fish Taco' shall always be funny, no matter the context. Like dick and fart jokes, it never gets old.

I will always want extra cheese on my pasta, Mr. Waiter at Carrabba's. Thank you.

I will never not accept a hug. You should prepare yourself to accept them from me, as well. I'm a kamikaze hugger.

If you mess with me one too many times and are told, "Dude, today is not the day," then, dude. TODAY IS NOT THE DAY.

Leave my mother out of it. No, seriously. I will cut a bitch.

I randomly burst out in song. My preferred method of torture is Motown or cheesy 60's pop tunes. I will not rest until I have infected someone with an earworm, and when I have? My work here is done.

The Dallas Cowboys, New Jersey Devils, New York Mets, Atlanta Braves, and Michigan Wolverines all suck, no matter what their records are.

No, I did not watch American Idol, Survivor, or Dancing With the Stars last night. Please stop talking about it/them.

My dog does not like your kid. Consider the growly face and him sulking away your first warning. I take no responsibility if they get all up in his business a second time.

No, I do not own too many purses, and I'm fairly certain that concept does not even exist.

I cannot get you Vicodin. I can, however, procure a nice doctor's note.

You will never, not ever, eat a chocolate chip cookie as good as the ones that come from my oven. Consider your search over. Eureka, even.

Dudes. I Don't Even Know Where to START.

2009-10-05T22:34:00.006-04:00

It's been a really weird couple of weeks for me, let's just leave it at that. I've been fighting off some sort of weird depressive episode, which was brought on by a number of factors, one of which I'll get to later, and my day to day operations have been severely affected by it. I wake up, I go to work, I come home, I collapse on the sofa. Fun? No. Depressing.

I'm slowly working through it, though; this past weekend really helped, as did a small amount (Small. Very Small. Like minuscule.) of Retail Therapy in the form of Marshall's Home Goods and Old Navy online. The trip to Marshall's barely counts because I used my birthday money, so kindly shut it. I finally, finally got an enameled cast iron dutch oven very much like the Le Creuset I've been coveting for years, except for a fraction of the price because, hello? Expensive much? And last Monday I ordered a pair of jeans and some cute tops for fall from Old Navy, which have yet to arrive. What the hey, Old Navy? Send me my shit.

As for the weekend, we had some gorgeous fall weather in the Lehigh Valley, and I took advantage of it by...cleaning. (Par-tay!) The house really needed it, too. With all the pouting and laziness of the past few weeks I had kind of let everything go, so Saturday I opened the doors and windows to let in the air and sunshine and went at it.

Sunday was a banner day in that I finally bought my new kitchen floor! Seriously, I cannot tell you how happy this made me. Of course, the floor hasn't been installed yet, but IT IS IN MY HOUSE. And that's the most important part. Not sure when Big Poppa wants to install, but will post pics as soon as we do. We're focusing on getting the kitchen done first, then the living room if all goes well (fingers are crossed).

Let's see, what else...Oh! I went to Lowe's over my lunch break today, and had kind of a weird encounter with one of their employees. I was in the seasonal section looking for a winter cover for my air conditioner because we're so not taking that big bitch out the window this year, and from out of nowhere, 20 feet behind me, some dude is all, "Hi Ma'am! How are you today? Can I help you find anything?!" I looked around, startled, and was all, "Uh, no, I'm cool, thanks." Dude says, "Okay! Well, just let me know if you need anything!"

This might have been nice and not at all creepy had he not already been helping another customer and also not 20 feet away from me talking to me while my back was turned. I then recalled seeing this very same fellow a few weeks ago when I stopped into this very same Lowe's and he reacted the very same way. While I was in line to check out. As a matter of fact, at the time it was so peculiar that the person in line in front of me said, "I thought he knew you or something." Uh, no. Not at all. Needless to say, when I saw this ever so helpful and not at all creepy ~~Ohmifuggingod so creepy~~ fellow by himself walking towards me I shot down another aisle and got my ass out of there. I've since been assured that many Lowe's employees of the male persuasion react in the same manner when there's breasts about, but all the same, I don't believe I'll be returning to that particular Lowe's by myself any time soon.

And finally, the bad news. And I have to write this part because it'll help to get it out, no matter how much it sucks. My great-aunt Madlyn, the wife of my great-uncle Bob and the mother to my cousin Randy, passed away two weeks ago after a three year battle with pancreatic cancer. Three years. With pancreatic cancer. If you know anything at all about pancreatic CA, you know that surviving with it for three years is unheard of. I like to think the fact she fought so long is a testament to the kind of woman my Aunt Madlyn was.

My great-aunt Madlyn was the woman in my family that never forgot a birthday, ever. She made sure we all - every kid in the family- got 'just a little something' for Christmas and Easter. If any of us made the newspaper for anything; sports, honor roll, engagement or birth announcements; she kept the clipping in a scrap book. She could keep you on the phone for hours at a time. She made the best fruit salad ever. She loved her family, all of us, to no end. And now she's gone. Sometimes you don't realize just how fucking much you love someone until they leave you, you know? I'll always remember Aunt Madlyn. I'll always try to love as much as she did. I'll always be grateful to her for being the mother my mom should have had, and the friend she needed the most. One day it's going to stop hurting to think about her. One day I'm just going to remember how wonderful she was, instead of how much I miss her. I know it won't be soon.

Until then I'm coping, and avoiding the creepy dudes at Lowe's.

For the Love of Pork and All Pork-Based Products

2009-09-21T08:47:00.011-04:00

Did I tell you that my birthday was last week? It was. You missed it. Lucky for you I accept belated gifts.

Last Sunday, I went to my parent's house to help winterize the pool. Afterwards, Momma San and Big Poppa went to work on my birthday dinner, which was the most magnificent show of Puerto Rican gastro-magnificence (Yes, I just made that shit up.) that I've ever been privy to. There was a plethora of pork. It was a Porkapalooza. Pork-tastic. Pork pork pork pork pork. Accompanied by rice and beans, tostones (toast-tonys), and pastelillos (pas-ta-lee-joes).

Mah Birthday Foodz, let me show you them.

Let's start with the sophisticated set-up:

Dad hooks the propane tank up to some sort of jerry-rigged burner/stand cooker-thing. It's so the fried food smell doesn't linger in the house for a week. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

We started with the pastelillos as an appetizer.

Pastelillos are the Puerto Rican equivalent to empanadas, which are seasoned ground beef in a pastry crust that's deep fried.

Like that. They're my favorite thing ever.

Next up, Big Poppa did the first frying of the tostones, which are deep fried green plantains.

These are raw plantains. Also a beer.

These are the plantains after frying once. They're blanched in the oil once to cook the inside, then flattened between pieces of wax paper. Then they're fried again until golden brown and crispy.

We serve them with a mojo ajo (Mo-ho Ah-ho), which is a garlic oil dipping sauce. NOM.

The last thing dad fried up was the carne frita, a.k.a. fried meat.

Here's how you make carne frita:

1. Dice up pork shoulder.
2. Season pork shoulder.
3. Fry pork shoulder.
4. Eat.

Bonus points for fried pork skin, or chicharrones.

They're usually fried up with a whole onion or two.

While dad and I manned the deep fryer outside, mom was hard at work in the kitchen. She made some red beans and rice, which is not as easy as you think.

This ain't no Uncle Ben's. Puerto Rican rice needs to be babied so it ends up not too gummy or wet, and cooked in the caldero it can burn easily. Believe me, I know.

To serve on top of the rice, mom made habicheulas guisadas, or as I call it, red beans and potatoes.

It was like Puerto Rican Thanksgiving. But for my birthday. Which you missed.

You really need to go shopping.

September Eleventh.

2009-09-11T15:19:00.002-04:00

Today is the day I keep my mouth shut.

There is so much that has been said today, about today. About remembering, about where we were when we heard, about loved ones who were there and didn't make it out, about having to be there that day and by some grace of chance not going, about the heroes who stepped into those buildings and never came back.

I listen to these stories, to these memories, and I do not speak.

I've lived close to New York City all my life, yet my first trip to Manhattan was in December of 2001. There were still missing posters at the ferry station and American flags in everyone's windows. I remember feeling the same sadness that I felt that day, yet also feeling distant. This wasn't my city, I didn't know anyone who worked in the Towers. It didn't affect me. Yet it did.

I read postings on Twitter and messages of rememberance on Facebook, yet I don't contribute my own. What else is there to say? What else can be said? We were attacked. We will rise again. We will never forget. We can never forget.

I do not speak. But I remember.

Random Thought Thursday

2009-09-10T11:38:00.006-04:00

I'd love, just once, to be able to go on Facebook and comment anonymously on the photos of people I don't know. So many times I go through pictures that friends have been tagged in and I just want to be all...

"Orange is a fruit, not a skin color. Give the spray tanner a rest."

"Sweetie, you've got eleventy billion pictures of yourself making the same face at the same angle. Two things you should know: 1.You are not as cute as you think. 2. Keep this up and your friends will see you for what you really are, which is a raging narcissist. Now put the camera down and back away slowly."

"Oooh, cute baby. Who's the daddy?"

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, STOP making the kissy face and throwing up the peace sign. It's cliched and annoying."

"Dude. You're on Facebook. PUT THE BONG AWAY."

"Uh, hate to rain on your parade and everything, but I was wondering if you'd realized that you are, in fact, white?"

"Hmmm. Warm enough for booty shorts, a tank top, and flimsy plastic flip flops, yet cold enough to need that hipster scarf around your neck. Curious."

"So what are the Gotti boys really like?"

I'm amazed I have any friends at all, really.

The Politics of Facebook

2009-09-06T02:13:00.003-04:00

I try to keep my politics to myself, I really do. I know enough about politics to know that I don't...know enough. I try not to engage others in political discourse when I can't spout facts off the top of my head to back me up. (Yes, I like to have facts, unlike some people, who just regurgitate what they've heard from Glenn Beck and Bill O'Reilly. Sorry. ahem.) I just know what I believe, and I stand behind those beliefs wholeheartedly.

I'm 'friends' with quite a few people I went to high school with on Facebook, mainly because (I'm assuming) said people were...curious, shall we say, about what I've been up to, what I look like (Yep. Still fat. Nope. Not married. No kids, either. We done? Good.), etc...just as I was with them. Noseyness for the win! I could go off on a tangent here about 'connecting' with people on Facebook who, once they've connected with you never...well, connect, but whatever. That's not what we're here for.

Anyway. One of the people from HS that I added has political beliefs that...let's just say...are not parallel with my own. I'm okay with that, really; it's something that I've sadly had to become used to - liberals are hard to come by around here. Apparently. It's just that when people are filled with such loathing and close-mindedness towards ideas that aren't their own that they can't keep themselves from shouting said beliefs from the rooftops (or their status updates) that upsets me.

And I'm not quiet about my own political leanings - if you look at my info I call myself a 'stinking liberal'. (Also there's this, but I don't really put my writing on shout on Facebook, mostly due to work/family stuff. There's a link, but you have to be looking for it.) Apart from liking a link or two on friend's walls, grabbing a piece of progressive flair, Becoming A Fan of Rachel Maddow or 'Telling Rush Limbaugh He's Full Of Crap' (heh), I try to keep my views to myself.

So when this certain person I used to know spouts off about 'Obamacare' and 'Obama's Socialist agenda' and saying how the President's scheduled video address to the nation's children on the first day of school is an apparent 'Indoctrination' into some sort of Hitler-esque youth army, it upsets me. My face flushes, my heart rate goes up, and my blood pressure goes through the roof. This is the same kind of person who, if it were about a year ago and I had posted some sort of status about being anti-war or against GWB, would jump all over me about being anti-American and unpatriotic, yet it's alright for him to spew hatred day and night about 'loathing this president and his policies' on his page. I'm not saying he doesn't have the right to say these things, I'm just saying there's a certain level of hypocrisy going on that's on the level of ridiculousity.

See? Upsetting. To the point where I ramble and am nonsensical. This could also be because it's 3:45 in the morning and I've been up since a little after 1 AM after only having slept about two hours, but there's no way of actually knowing.

At first I just blocked this person's status updates from showing up on my wall, which helped a little. But every now and then I would look them up just to see what sort of Fox News spoon-fed vitriol they had recently posted, and I'd get upset again, and come this close to either responding on their original post or posting something of my own, and I'm not about to open that can of worms. I ended up de-friending this person tonight, mostly for my own sanity, and because I know that sooner or later I would have said or done something I would come to regret. I doubt he'll miss me, nor I him. Connect to friends on Facebook? Only if they agree to not aggravate me.

For me, Facebook is not about politics. It's not about pushing 'the liberal agenda'. It's not about a Public Option for health care. It's about YoVille, Farkle, Roller Coaster Kingdom, and stalking my friends. And my friend's friends. It's about connecting, not dividing.

Man, I should have been in politics. Irony? None of my friends would vote for me.

Don't Ask Me Those Questions. I Don't Know Why, I Don't Make the Rules.

2009-09-02T13:35:00.015-04:00

One of my favorite movies to watch when I need a good Ugly Cry is the classic 80's chick flick Steel Magnolias. It's got everything, Julia Roberts with big hair and even bigger teeth, Olympia Dukakis in the last decent role she ever had, Daryll Hannah in terrible eyewear, Dolly Parton and her breasts, Sally Field chewing scenery left and right, and Shirley Maclaine.

Have I ever told you how much I love Shirley Maclaine? It's mostly because of Steel Magnolias. She plays Ouizer (pronounced wheezer) Boudreaux, who is one of the snarkiest, meanest old southern ladies you'll ever meet. Ouizer keeps it real. She calls you on your shit. She used to dress up as a nun to go bar-hopping. She'll tell you to take your bible and stick it where the sun doesn't shine. And then she'll buy you crotchless lingerie for your bridal shower.

I want to be Ouizer Boudreax when I grow up.

Anyway, there's a scene in Steel Magnolias where Ouizer brings all the ladies tomatoes. Because she doesn't eat them, you see, she just grows them. Because that's apparently a rule in the south. Here, just watch the clip -- it's about 2 or 3 minutes in:

Unfortunately, I'll never be like Ouizer, because I have a brown thumb, and as many times as I've tried, I haven't been able to grow anything besides weeds in my yard or on my patio. Which is why, when I have a craving for a good home grown tomato, I have to rely on the kindness of co-workers and patients who want to unload theirs. Thankfully, that's happened a few times this summer, and I was able to get some fantastic meals out of them, like the gazpacho I made last week that still haunts my dreams, and my favorite Panzanella salad. And this recipe, which is kind of a take off on the Panzanella, but more of a portable version.

I got the inspiration for this recipe while I watched Julie and Julia in the theater, during the scene where Julie and her husband discussed what kind of project she could embark on to get her writing career started, the characters seemed to be eating some sort of tomato mixture on grilled italian bread, and I said, "Oh, hell yes. Crostini."

And then I made it the next day.

This is super simple, and can totally pass for a meal on those 'too hot to cook' kind of nights. I've made it at least four times since 4th of July.

Tomato Crostini

2-4 tomatoes, 1/2 inch dice
1/4 of a large red onion, finely diced
5-6 leaves of basil chiffonade
1 large clove of garlic cut in half
salt
pepper
extra virgin olive oil
balsamic vinegar
1/2 loaf good crusty italian bread
butter

Instructions:

First, take a look at my big juicy tomatoes! (Sorry. Am twelve.)

I had found some Heirloom tomatoes at the store this time around and decided to try them. They're so funky and interesting looking, not like your usual boring mass-produced 'maters.

They're also delicious, and unfortunately...um...a tad more expensive than regular tomatoes. So these were a rare treat.

Dice them up and toss them in a bowl.

This was a pretty good sized onion, if I remember correctly, so I ended up only using a quarter. Red onion is pretty strong when it's raw.

Now for the basil.

Grab 5-6 good sized leaves and stack them, one on top of the other.

Roll the stacked leaves up like a cigar. Or whatever else you might smoke that's rolled up. (Not that I'd know anything about that.) Apologies for the crap picture, apparently it's hard to be in focus when you're rolling basil, and there's only so much that flickr picnik mode can fix.

And...chiffonade! Slice down the rolled leaves thinly, leaving little ribbons of basil.

Toss the basil in a bowl with the tomatoes and onions, add a couple teaspoons of good quality extra virgin olive oil, a couple teaspoons of balsamic vinegar, a pinch of salt, and a few grinds of fresh pepper. Mix well and set aside.

Heat a saute pan over medium high heat, and add about 2 TB of butter, and 2 TB of olive oil. While waiting for the butter to melt, slice the bread about 1-1 1/2 inches thick.

Who's got pretty counter tops? I do!

Toast bread in butter and oil until browned and crispy. Will smell pretty darn good, too.

Who's got a crappy camera? I do!

Rub half of the fresh garlic over the warmed bread, just to get the flavor of the garlic but not the raw taste...trust me, you'll taste it, this is a great tip (Thanks, Rachel Ray! Suck it, food snobs!)

Top the warm toasty bread with the tomato mixture.

And eat the hell out of it.

Even Ouizer would approve of this one.

If I told you how much this happened to me you'd just shake your head and chuckle sadly.

2009-08-30T17:16:00.005-04:00

Back when I used to ~~shop uncontrollably to make myself feel better~~ have credit cards, I bought this GORGEOUS yet ridiculously expensive bag. I don't carry it much, because it's more of a spring/summer bag, and also because it's enormous. This bag could be used as carry-on luggage. It could hold a dead body (well, parts of a dead body). I could go all Paris Hilton and carry about a dozen tea cup chihuahuas in it.

It's a big purse, okay?

Anyway.

I've been carrying this gorgeous yet awkwardly oversize bag for about two months, but have been switching out on the occasion when I want to travel light, with just my wallet, keys, and cellphone. Which is what I did Friday night when I went to dinner with my family to celebrate my grandfather's birthday. Good dinner, fun times.

Cut to today, when I planned to leave the house for the first time this weekend to go grocery shopping. I grabbed my big bag, threw in my shopping list and reusable bags (see? Huge.), and headed out the door. I stopped first at a Certain Greeting Card store to pick up a couple of cards for friends. I proceeded to pay for said cards and found - surprise! - no wallet. I had no wallet in my purse. I profusely apologize to the ladies behind the counter and leave the store, embarrassed as all get out.

On the way home I realized the wallet was in my back up bag since Friday night. And since I hadn't gone anywhere all day yesterday, it never made it back into my original bag. Um, DUH.

By the time I got back home I was in the midst of a full-blown bitch fit. It was after 4:30, and I really did not feel like going back out. So, I figured to heck with it, and decided to order in Chinese instead of making FAHEETAS! as I'd originally planned.

Here's hoping tomorrow doesn't bite me in the ass like today did.

I. DIE.

2009-08-24T22:38:00.006-04:00

Apologies, I'm watching The Rachel Zoe Project and I can't help but quote. It's bananas.

Anyway. I got a big bag of fresh garden tomatoes from a co-worker today, and even though I've been making these crazy good crostinis lately (I'm posting that one tomorrow or the next day, promise), I was kind of over them and wanted to try something else. Then it hit me - gazpacho! I've never had gazpacho, but I've been intrigued with it for a while. The thought of cold soup is a little scary, but I figured, what the heck, it's fresh tomatoes & some other veggies, how could that be wrong?

Recipe adapted from Ina Garten. I zushed it up a bit.

1 English (or Hothouse) cucumber, halved, seeded, but not peeled.
1 red bell pepper, cored and seeded
4-6 tomatoes, medium sized
1 red onion
3 garlic cloves, minced finely
2 cups tomato juice (NOT V-8)
1/4 c white wine vinegar
1/4 cup good extra virgin olive oil
Juice of 1 lime
1/2 tsp ancho chile powder
1/2 Tb kosher salt
1 tsp fresh ground pepper

Directions

Roughly chop the cucumbers, bell pepper, tomatoes, and red onions into approximately 1 inch cubes. Pulse each vegetable separately in a food processor until it is coarsely chopped but not over processed (Very important!) . After each vegetable is chopped in the food processor, pour it into a large bowl and combine. Add garlic, tomato juice, lime juice, vinegar, olive oil, ancho chile powder, salt and pepper. Mix well and chill about an hour before serving.

I took some slices of thick crusty bread, brushed them with olive oil, and grilled them on my grill pan until browned, warm, and crispy. I served the soup with a touch of sour cream and a little chopped parsley, and just one little drizzle more of olive oil on the top.

So. Good.

Considering...

2009-08-19T11:19:00.003-04:00

How we've had a summer that hasn't really been a summer.

How much longer I'm going to be able to tolerate working in the medical profession.

How many more days I can go before washing the dishes.

How long it's going to take before the new floor gets installed in the kitchen.

How I'm going to stop being such a lazy ass and get the spare bedroom organized.

How I'm going to write two recipe posts and the few other posts that have been languishing in my brain for a month.

How to get the laundry to fold itself.

That last one's tricky.

You can almost smell the crazy.

2009-08-07T23:09:00.007-04:00

I was headed to the movies tonight with my friend Cheryl and missed my exit, which happens from time to time, especially when you're me and you're driving on Rte. 22 near the 33 interchange and the traffic just seems to lump together in the right hand lane and NO ONE FUCKING MOVES and they're doing it just to spite me so I say Screw it and drive to the next exit. It took about the same amount of time to get to the theater that it would had I taken my original exit, but I still freaked out about it because I was worried about being late.

And then I realized I have this thing about being late to the movies. I hate it. I hate having to rush through buying a ticket and my popcorn and Sour Patch Kids. I hate walking into a theater when it's dark and you can't see. I hate missing a trailer. I hate having to pick a seat when the theater's more than half full. I can feel people's eyes on me, judging me for being late, or for making them squish their legs in so I can get by. Because I totally do that. If I'm seated in a darkened theater watching previews and munching on my popcorn and you have the audacity to walk in and disturb my preview-watching serenity? I will glare and judge and mock you silently. That is how I roll.

Anyway, I got to the theater, found a good parking spot (hallelujah!), Cheryl had Fandango'ed our tickets so we had no wait, there was hardly any line at the concessions, and our theater was the first one in the door. We did miss one trailer, but the sound wasn't working during that one so it TOTALLY DOES NOT COUNT.

By the way, Julie and Julia? Two thumbs up. Meryl's my girl.

If this post doesn't gross you out, we could totally hang.

2009-08-05T16:38:00.006-04:00

On Monday I woke up with a scratchy throat and some post-nasal drip. I immediately went into denial mode and decided to (not so smartly) ignore my symptoms. Thinking it was just an allergy attack, I took a Zyrtec at work and hoped that they would simply go away. I went through work all day sniffling here and there and blowing my nose inappropriately in front of patients (mad public relations skills, I has them). I got home and started to get ready to go out. Some old friends from high school and I had planned on going to dinner then hitting Musikfest in Bethlehem (I'll talk about the 'fest another day, promise; it deserves its own entry.), and by the time I got home, I was just. Not. Having it. I did the shitty friend thing and called about an hour before our scheduled meeting time, apologized profusely to my friend K and promised to make it up to her. I ordered some pork with broccoli and chicken rice soup from China Fun, took some Benadryl and collapsed on the couch to watch whatever I'd collected on the DVR last week.

And then I didn't move for 24 hours.

I'm not normally one to call out of work, but when you barely sleep through the night due to coughing and hacking and expelling phlegm through your nostrils (oh hush, like you don't do it too), the prospect of things like taking a shower and going to work leads to moaning and grumbling and saying 'Fuck it, I'm calling out'. So I did. Tuesday I laid on the couch, watched endless hours of Food Network and read some pretty bad yet ridiculously addictive Young Adult fiction. I barely touched any food, drank Pink Lemonade flavor Kool-Aid (Oh, YEAH!), and did not shower. I'm grateful I couldn't smell myself, because. Whew. I took some NyQuil and slept on the couch for the second night in a row, which is a necessity for me when I'm sick.

This morning I woke up saying DO NOT WANT and "mphrmpfFUCKTHISSHITALRIGHTI'LLGO", got around and (grudgingly) went to work. At work I self-medicated with some Sudafed and Mucinex (drink a whole glass of water with that, or else it won't work), and started feeling better by lunch time. I know this because I started to eat anything that wasn't nailed down. That whole feed a cold thing, you know.

So now I'm snuggled on the couch with a bowl of chicken soup and Mad Men on DVD, hoping I'm deloused by the weekend, or there will be hell to pay. I've got 'Festing to do!

Fair Warning.

2009-07-27T22:39:00.005-04:00

I can't take it anymore. I'm slowly killing myself with too much food and lack of exercise.

I'm going to take it slow and do it the right way. I'm going to stop my bad habits and learn a new, healthy way of life.

Um. As soon as I finish the grilled chicken fettucine alfredo that's in the fridge. One last hurrah and all, you know.

In case you were wondering who I got it from.

2009-07-23T19:09:00.004-04:00

This weekend is supposed to be the first (and most likely only. Grumble.) honest-to-goodness hot and sunny weekend of the summer, and I made last minute plans to take a half day off tomorrow and spend Friday into Saturday at my parents' place to relax by the pool.

I'm going over my mental list of shit to take along and couldn't remember if there was any dog food left from 4th of July weekend for Jasper, so I called Mama-San quick to check. She was upstairs when I called, and the food is kept downstairs. What follows is a transcript of the conversation that took place between my parents that was YELLED INTO THE PHONE for my benefit.

Mama-San: "HUSBAND!"

Big Poppa: "WHAT?!"

M-S: "Can you please check in the laundry room and see if there's dog food?"

B P: "WHY?!"

Pause.

M-S: "Uh, because I'm hungry and thought I'd have a little snack?"

B P: "Screw you."

Mama-San, to me: "It's a good thing you got your father's looks and my brains, sweetie."

They Also Make Beer & Cheese Soup but I Don't Have the Energy for That

2009-07-21T22:39:00.005-04:00

It's too damn hot to cook. Let's make a salad.

Ooh! How about the salad I had at the BrewWorks a few weeks back? Perfect.

Spinach and Strawberry Salad with Goat Cheese, Almonds, and Citrus Vinaigrette

No measuring needed for this one, just do what feels right, baby.

Here we go.

Toast slivered almonds over medium-low heat, until slightly browned and toasty-smelling.

Kind of like that.

While the almonds are toasting (keep your eye on them, they don't take long), make your vinaigrette.

First, zest an orange. I used about 1 tsp. of zest, I think. Depends on how orange-y you want your vinaigrette.

Good gravy, but my picture taking leaves a lot to be desired, doesn't it? Perhaps if I had a nice DSLR I'd have beautiful pictures for my blog, but alas. (Hint. HINT. Nikon? Canon? Hello?)

Juice the orange, add a splash of white wine vinegar, a sprinkle of salt, and a grind or two of fresh pepper, and whisk in some extra virgin olive oil.

I swear, I never use bottled dressings anymore. Unless it's Russian, for Reubens. Mmm, Reubens. Coming soon!

Set the dressing aside (your almonds should be done by now for sure so take them off the stove and let them cool) while you slice up the strawberries.

Hulled and quartered is fine. And oh holy mother of crap were these strawberries GOOD. So sweet.

Now it's time for assembly.

First up is the spinach - a good handful (or two, if so inclined).

Add the almonds.

Then the strawberries.

Then crumble up some goat cheese. (It's very crumbly and soft, and so creamy and tangy, it's delicious. Goat cheese is one of those things that I never thought I'd like but I tried it once in California and now I love it. I make these chicken breasts stuffed with goat cheese and sun dried tomatoes with a white wine sauce...but another post, another time.)

And add to your salad.

Give the vinaigrette another quick stir and spoon over the salad. A sprinkle of salt, a grind of pepper, and you're done.

Fabulous.

I'm Probably Going To Hell For This But It's OK Because I'll See Most Of You Assholes There Anywyay.

2009-07-14T16:39:00.007-04:00

So you ask where I've been and all I've got for you is a dead uncle.

No, really. My uncle died. Well, he was my mom's uncle, so that technically makes him my great uncle, but I hate saying 'great-uncle' because what if that uncle wasn't so great and because I called him my great-uncle I just made him out to be some awesome uncle who, like, took me for ice cream and let me drive his Camaro when I was 14 and totally didn't tell my parents when he caught me smoking outside the movie theater in high school when he actually was kind of a dick? Then I'd feel like an asshole because I told you my uncle was great when he actually wasn't and then you'd feel like an idiot for being all, "Sorry your great uncle is dead" and I was like, "Eh, it's alright, he was kind of a dick anyway."?

No? Just me? Thought so. Anyway. My mom's Uncle Bob died yesterday, and he was totally awesome and it really sucks that he's gone. He was a wonderful guy - always happy, with a kind word and a smile for everyone he met. I don't remember a time that I went to their house in the summer that he wasn't working in the yard, he loved it so. I'll miss him a lot, but he's not sick or hurting now, and that' s the most important thing. Rest now, Uncle Bob. I'll never forget you.

Eviction Notice

2009-07-02T08:38:00.009-04:00

Dear Canine Resident at (address redacted), Allentown, PA:

It has come to management's attention that recent actions and activities in which you have taken part are in direct violation to the residence and cohabitation contract you entered into in April of 2004.

Upon agreement of said contract, it was management's responsibility to provide the shelter, food, and water necessesary, with additional needs such as bathing, grooming, walks, and veterinary visits included on a strictly as-needed basis.

Not exclusive to contract were fringe benefits such as treats, belly rubs, ear scritches, and couch time. During initial negotiations management agreed to forgo the need for Snuggle Time directly related to Resident's 'Good Boy' status, seeing as Resident was initially and continually resistant to said Snuggle Time.

However, in light of recent incidents in which Management's living room carpet has been used as a restroom, Management has deemed it necessary to remind you of your 'Good Boy' obligations, wherein it is your responsibility to conduct your Important Business outside the Residence. To facilitate the carrying on of Important Business outside the Residence, Management has agreed to participate in additional outings and longer walks.

Should Resident continue to befoul the inside of the Residence, Management will have no course but to help Resident find other accomodations, perhaps at (address redacted) in the Poconos, PA.
Thank you for your kind and prompt attention to this matter.

Sincerely,
Jennifer C.
Management, (address redacted), Allentown, PA.

Dear Management,

Kindly suck it.

Sincerely,

Jasper

If You Say 'Nesting", You Get Smacked.

2009-06-30T16:35:00.006-04:00

This weekend I was feeling oddly domestic. I mowed the lawn and whacked the hell out of some weeds. I vacuumed and dusted. I made pancakes and sausage for Big Poppa, who was under the kitchen sink again to finish the plumbing. I even cleaned the ceiling fan in the kitchen. I went so far as to (Ok, this is embarassing) clean the scuff marks ~~from my shoes that I'm too lazy to walk up so I just sort of toss them up there~~ off the walls going up the stairs with one of those Magic Erasers. It got to the point where, while I was sitting watching a little TV and eating lunch, I got up and dusted part of the coffee table that I missed BECAUSE IT BOTHERED ME. I interrupted a meal TO CLEAN SOMETHING.

What is that about? And how can I make sure it happens again?

In Defense of the Mainstream

2009-06-29T13:55:00.003-04:00

I'm not particularly musical. I like music, especially if "it's got a good beat, and you can dance to it", but I'm not musically gifted. I can't read music, can't play music, and I can't hold a tune to save my life. As far as what I listen to, my taste is...varied, to say the least. I listen to anything from Frank Sinatra to Metallica, Jay-Z and Notorious B.I.G. to Bob Marley and Jack Johnson. I even like a little country music. Very little. Like just the Dixie Chicks. But, country all the same.

I was raised on The Beatles, Clapton, Hendrix, Dylan, Crosby Stills and Nash, Led Zepplin, the Stones, The Police, Billy Joel, Elton John, Smokey Robinson & the Miracles, The Tempations, and The Jackson Five. I remember the cover of Big Brother and the Holding Company's 'Cheap Thrills' LP vividly (It was vaguely suggestive and an eensy bit graphic for my 7 year old mind. I thought it was porn.). I recall my mother having Ricki Lee Jones' 'Chuck Es' in Love' and 'Danny's All-Star Joint' on repeat, singing along over and over again while she cleaned or did laundry. My dad would blast Cream's 'Sunshine of Your Love' in his Subaru Brat to help wake him up on the way to McMichael's Creek on the first day of trout season. I'd sing along to the chorus.

I grew up listening to Top 40 radio and watching MTV in the late 80's and early 90's. Michael Jackson, Madonna, Prince, and Bon Jovi were the soundtrack of my adolesence. I fawned over New Kids on the Block for the better part of three or four years. I was one of the first white girls (well, semi-white) in my rural school district to watch Yo! MTV Raps. I loved Bell Biv DeVoe, MC Hammer, Young MC, TLC, Queen Latifah and MC Lyte. I was obsessed with Janet Jackson, to the point where I did that stupid teenage thing where you watch an artist's videos over and over to learn the dance movies. I found an urban radio station in Philly and listened to them all the time. Drove my parents crazy.

When Nirvana broke out, I was a senior in high school, still deep in the throes of my hip hop and dance/club music obsession. I had doorknocker earrings, and wore baggy pants with black lace up patent leather shoes. I could do the Running Man, the Roger Rabbit, and the Kid N' Play like nobody's business. Word to yo' mutha. Many of the 'cool kids' in my class were big into a pseudo-retro-70's music thing at this point - they would smoke weed, dig up their parents' old Grateful Dead and Steve Miller Band albums and play them at parties. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I knew all the words to 'The Joker' in sixth grade, when they were still whacking it to Samantha Fox.

After high school, my tastes grew more and more varied. I was introduced to Bob Marley (no weed necessary), joined the Hootie and the Blowfish/Dave Matthews bandwagon, and ultimately fell head over heels for the Gallagher brothers. From then on it was more of the same, listening mainly to Top 40, some mainstream hard rock (Foo Fighters, Breaking Benjamin, Audioslave, and yes, God help me, even some Nickelback), and popular hip hop, with a healthy dose of classic rock and motown mixed it. The past few years I've listened to less and less 'popular' music, straying away from Top 40 radio and just sticking with artists I like. Along the way I've gained new appreciation for Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen, and recently have discovered a love of musicals and showtunes.

If you couldn't already tell, my music taste is pretty mainstream - I'm definitely not a music snob, and I make no excuses for it. I only know one Radiohead song. I have no idea who Wilco is. I don't 'get' Tom Waits. I could not name one indie music lable to save my life. And I make no excuses for it. Sure, I've discovered new artists here and there that I've really enjoyed (most recently, the excellent she &him featuring Zooey Deschanel), but for the most part I stick with what I know. I'll never be labelled a 'hipster' by any means, but I think I'm alright with that.

IM Confessions, First Edition.

2009-06-21T21:56:00.009-04:00

I actually logged into my IM tonight and ended up chatting with my good friend Jess from Wisconsin, whom I haven't spoken with in a while. I miss her (and our chats) like crazy, and usually while we're chatting I think to myself, "Oh, I totally need to blog this."

And so I do.

On my Cougar Bait:

Me: Shia Lebouf does not wear diapers
Jess: his balls haven't dropped yet
Me: he's 23
Me: legal
Me: good enough for me
Jess: there's no fuzz on his peaches
Me: lmfao
Jess: shit hes too young for Demi Moore even
Jess: just saying
Me: I'm younger than Demi Moore, so it's all good
Jess: lmfao I guess, thats okay then
Me: darn tootin it is
Jess: besides, since I don't want him, it seems unfair to keep you from him
Jess: I'm sure that you two will be bounding towards each other in a field of flowers in no time
Me: fingers crossed
Jess: lol yes *fingers crossed*

On How Time Flies:

Jess: I can't believe that it's almost the end of June already
Me: I know
Me: it's going so quick
Jess: my mom's birthday is coming up on the 30th
Me: Peanut's b-day is the 29th, she's four already
Me: my BFF's little one
Jess: shitballs. That time thing is a killer, huh?
Me: indeed
Jess: I remember when you showed me the pics of her right after she was born
Jess: my niece is going to be 15 now
Me: oh man, that's gotta make you feel old
Me: Baby Cousin's going to be 15 in July
Me: so I'm right there with you
Jess: lol, not so old as the nieces who are going to be 21 and 23 this year
Me: oh holy shit
Jess: yeah, oh snap
Me: fucking kids
Jess: lol, that's how I feel about it. Time to off them so I seem younger
Me: lol you got it
Jess: the evil queen's way of staying young
Me: works for me

On A Complete Lack of Maternal Instincts:

Jess: I think that my mom is trying to pull out all the stops in her new quest for me to procreate
Jess: apparently she and my sister in law have been talking about it
Me: there's trouble
Jess: Sis in law is about as subtle as a chainsaw
Jess: so I came over to my mom's last week, and I got to hear about how I shouldn't get a car without 4 doors, not because it would be impractical for school, but because I WILL HAVE A TOUGH TIME PUTTING A BABY SEAT IN A TWO-DOOR
Jess: kill me
Jess: This defies all logic
Me: has there even been any prospects lately that would give her the idea that you're thinking about it?
Jess: I'm single, haven't seen the business end of a penis since before the primary, and yet, I have to focus on where I will put a baby seat in the "near" future?
Me: ok that answers that in the most awesome way possible
Jess: nope, not even a whiff of a man
Jess: Apparently, my ill-spent eggs will start hatching on their own
Me: oooh
Me: like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park
Me: only scary
Me: On Memorial Day I pretty much told my mom how it is regarding procreation
Me: I was giving Jas a bath
Jess: what did yo tell her?
Me: and he was all over the damn place, as he is wont to do
Jess: lol
Me: there's much exploring to be done up there, you see.
Me: and he went into the woods AGAIN
Jess: oh geez
Me: after I just yelled at him five fucking times NOT to.
Jess: tick ticky ticky
Me: exactly
Me: that's how he got the mites last year - there's foxes in the woods and shit
Jess: yeep
Jess: not cool
Me: and he comes moping back to where I was hosing him down
Jess:lmfao
Me: I just looked at my mom and said, "This? THIS is why I can't have kids."I love the little bastard, but he'll be the death of me. I can't imagine going through that shit with a small human.

In Which I am Vague and Off-Putting.

2009-06-19T23:15:00.004-04:00

I'm kind of aggravated with myself right now. I made tentative plans with a Certain Person Who Shall Remain Nameless for this evening. Now, this Certain Person told me to not count on seeing them tonight but made it seem as though I would be seeing them, and told me in no uncertain terms just how much they wanted to see me, so I naturally assumed I would be seeing this Certain Person.

Can you guess what happened?

Can you?

I think you can.

Anyway, I'm aggravated with myself for a few reasons: 1. That I actually kind of cared if this Certain Person did or did not show. 2. That I specifically did not make plans with anyone else because of the tentative plans made with Certain Person. And, 3. That I was enough of an idiot to text Certain Person after they told me they wouldn't be joining me this evening and say 'Well, maybe next time.'

Talk about desperate ~~to get laid~~ for company.

I can't place sole blame on this Certain Person, so don't get all huffy on my behalf. Certain Person was truthful in the fact that they would be spending time with Important People in Their Life, and a side trip to visit me wasn't exactly guaranteed. I can't hate on Certain Person for wanting to be with those Important People as much as possible, I just would have appreciated notice of cancellation of said tentative plans before 10:30 PM.

ANYWHO.

This past week has been a killer, work was busy and brain-frying, specifically Wednesday. If you had told me at the beginning of the week I would have had the Wednesday I had I would have been better prepared, but since you didn't I wasn't and now I blame you. Asshole.

I've got no big plans for the weekend (ANYMORE. pfft.), and am hoping to get a chance to go see Up sometime Saturday, but am not counting on it. There's some plumbing issues that need to be taken care of under my kitchen sink and since Momma-San and Big Poppa are doing all they can to avoid the Wrath of Gram, I'm sure I'll be entertaining the parentals for the better part of my Saturday. Which I'm totally down with, especially since I'm getting all the construction and plumbing labor for free. And laundry service, if Momma-San is bored enough. Let's hope she is.