Life as a Mix Tape

A Real Page Turner

2011-12-28T23:47:00.003-05:00

I need new bookshelves.

There's really no more room here...

All filled up here...

(Before you say it, yes. I also have a lot of picture frames and do-dads. This isn't about that.)

It's getting a bit tight here, too (and it's hard to get a good shot with the sofa in the way. There are more books on top of the books on the bottom shelf.)

Actually, I guess I just need MORE bookshelves. Because I'm definitely not going to stop buying books. This isn't even all of them. My mom has my Boom by Tom Brokaw. Traci has a few. Sue has one. Paige has Take the Cannoli by Sarah Vowell. I loaned Helen a bag full when she was on bed rest that I don't think I ever got back, since I am short on chick lit that I know I had...

And before you think I'm a hoarder, I have donated more than a few bags of books to the library. Actually, that might be where most of the chick lit went.

I always have a stack on hand, too.

To be fair, The Pillars of the Earth is Jan's, so we're even. For now. How the Republicans Stole Christmas is Trisha's.

I just love books. I always have. Look at this girl. What's in her hands?

Books. Probably Little Golden Books, like The Poky Little Puppy. My grandfather thought I could read when I was 2 or 3, because while he read to me, I knew exactly when to turn the pages. Jan assured him that while I was probably brilliant, I couldn't read yet, I had just memorized it. (I might have added that "brilliant" part. Maybe.)

My mom is a teacher, so she knew the importance of reading, and started me out early, so I could memorize those stories until I could read them on my own.

And Dickie helped out, too.

(Please take a moment to soak in the awesomeness of Dickie's kick-ass mutton chops.)

And when they weren't reading to me, I was listening to those books with the records, and you could follow along with the story, and you knew when to turn the page because Tinkerbell would wave her magic wand like this (insert a little ding sound).

When I could read on my own, there was no stopping me. Dr. Seuss, Madeline, E.B. White, Tom Sawyer, I whipped through the Little House books and sucked in everything by the great Judy Blume. The Outsiders! We got library cards! Sweet Valley High! I probably read Princess Daisy waaaay before I should have.

I didn't even mind reading the books they had us read at school. Well, except for The Hobbit. Jesus H. that was boring. Actually, some of the time, I'd already read the assigned book, but I didn't mind reading it again. I had great teachers too, who encouraged it (Mr. Stanton and Mrs. Donnelly, I thank you). Two of my all-time favorites are Wuthering Heights and A Tale of Two Cities. I could read them over and over again.

I know it will make me sound like an even bigger geek, but a book can just take you away to another place and time. I am perfectly content curling up with a book and just losing myself in Tudor England, the hills of 1950s Ireland or even inside the tunnels in Carrie Fisher's head.

I had a boy say to me once, "I'll bet you read a lot because you're a journalist." I said, "No, I read a lot because I can." I don't think we went out again...

I don't understand people who don't read, or don't enjoy reading.

I love books. Not just escaping into a story, either. I love the feel of turning the pages, I love the smell of them. Even if I'm just going in for shampoo, I always go to the book section at Target. The Costco book table is conveniently located on the way to the water (and the wine). I can wander the stacks at a Barnes & Noble for hours, just looking for something new to discover, or an old classic to reacquaint myself with.

And I mean books. Actual, tangible, flip-the-pages, crack-the-spine, fold-the-corner-to-mark-your-space books.

I've had conversations with people about Nooks and Kindles. To me, it's just not the same. Yes, you're reading a book, but you're not reading a BOOK. When you come to my house, you see the books on my shelves, and it tells you something about me; I'm an open book, if you will. If you walk into somebody's house and all you see is a Kindle on the coffee table, what does that say about them? They could have 1,000 books on there. They could have none.

And, admittedly, I have thought about getting a Kindle. But a Kindle Fire. So I can check the web and play Words with Friends. With Alec Baldwin. On a plane. To France.

Sorry.

I don't want Kindles to replace books, though. Because I will cling to my stacks and piles like a hoarder. I'll lead the resistance if it comes to a Fahrenheit 451 thing, and real books are outlawed.

In the words of the brilliant John Waters (whose Role Models I am dying to read): "We need to make books cool again. If you go home with somebody and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them."

Amen.

So, my birthday is coming up. I do need bookshelves. But Barnes & Noble gift cards work, too.

Or maybe a new coffee table.

In Memoriam...

2011-12-18T17:51:00.020-05:00

The year-in-review magazines are coming out, TV specials are airing, reviewing the best, the worst and the strangest things from 2011. Along with these looks back, they also dedicate a few pages or moments to say a final good-bye to people of note who have left us. Like during the Oscars, where the crowd watches images of the stars that now only shine in the sky, politely applauding as if offering up a last toast.

I'd like to take this space to offer up a little toast myself.

Audrey the Civic
Sept. 2000-June 22, 2011
I know, not a person, but still. I got her when she only had 11 miles on her, and she was shiny and green with a CD player and auto-locks. For almost 190,000 miles, she traveled the long and winding roads.

Daphne Marie
Feb. 21, 1999-July 26, 2011

My furry boo, who slept on my head. Her personality won me over as soon as I laid eyes on her, and she never disappointed. Daphne was very vocal, and had a comforting purr. She preferred plastic milk lids and hair elastics to store-bought toys, liked to curl up on the big red couch, and enjoyed Christmas because Christmas trees are magically delicious.

Margaret Mae Hitchcock Wathier
March 7, 1922-April 30, 2011

Our beautiful Margaret. Beloved mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and friend. She loved playing games, doing crafts and going to lunch with her friends. She liked Bridge and Scrabble and was cut-throat at Monopoly. She knitted lap blankets for patients at the VA hospital, made Christmas pins and ornaments, and had a surprising talent for drawing. She also enjoyed a nice vodka martini. On the rocks.

And the screen goes black to the sound of thunderous applause...

Don't Believe the Hyp(ochondriac)

2011-11-14T14:24:00.011-05:00

Hello. My name is Michelle, and I am a hypochondriac. Well, a little bit of one. I am not one to run to the doctor with each sniffle, but I do tend to scare myself into a cancer diagnosis.

I noticed I might have a problem a couple years ago. I was having a painful issue, so I went online and entered in my symptoms. Then I emailed my friend (and fellow hypochondriac) Chris with the results.

Me: I either have colon cancer or IBS. Or maybe some kind of parasite.
Him: Get off of WebMD IMMEDIATELY.

It turned out not be any of those things. Kashi. Seven whole grains on a mission to keep you in the bathroom.

So, I should have known better than to enter in the symptoms of my latest ailment. A sharp stabbing pain, focused on one part of my head. And not "in" my head, but "on" my head. Like right on my scalp. It hurt to touch, and the real pain came in a wave every few minutes or so, lasting about five seconds.

Strange. Random.

And possibly a cluster headache. Or sinusitis. Or idiopathic anemia. Or aseptic meningitis. Or shingles. Or, like I found on one message board, peri-menopause. Yeah. That's just what I need.

Or maybe it had something to do with my back tooth, which is on the same side as the pain. And I'd been warned by the dentist that since I'd had a root canal back there, I wouldn't be able to feel an infection because the nerves were dead. "And now my right ear is stuffed up," I thought. Oh... I need to go to the dentist NOW!

Need a cleaning, you'll have to wait for months. Mention sharp stabbing pain, they'll fit you right in.

I describe the pain and toss up my hypothesis as to what could be causing it. Bafflement, but yes, it could possibly be tooth related. They take some X-rays, which always brings tears to my eyes. I have a pretty sensitive gag reflex, and cramming slides and plastic holders all the way back there, and hold it for a couple seconds please, ugh... it's the worst.

In comes the dentist. "Have you ever had chicken pox?"
No.
"Oh, because shingles is nerve related, but to get shingles, usually you have to have chicken pox first."

AH!! So at least one thing on my list of possibilities. But there is no rash on my head, so it's doubtful.

It's also not tooth related, so he suggests another doctor, and is even so nice to write down what he thinks it might be. Something called "trigeminal neuralgia." Great! That will make it easy to Google it when I get back to the office.

Which of course I did.

The second line of the Wikipedia entry says "suicide disease." Huh... I think I'd rather have another root canal. I shared this with Jan, and got a lecture about how I scare myself, being a hypochondriac, by looking stuff up online. It only causes stress. "You're being ridiculous. It's probably just your sinuses."

Again, call a doctor for a checkup, you'll wait for months. Call them and mention stabbing pain, you're in like Flynn. I am the youngest person in the waiting room by a generation. Maybe two. I am led back to what I can only describe as a combination exam room/supply closet. Seriously, there were boxes of toilet paper, paper towels and aluminum foil serving dishes on top of the cabinets; a folded up wheelchair, oxygen tank on wheels and three scales behind the exam table.

The PA comes in to see me. (I guess stabbing head pain isn't important enough for the actual doctor to bother with) No rash, so no shingles. And no, it's not what the dentist suggested, as that would cause the pain to be on my face, and something about the wind blowing on it would make you want to kill yourself because of the pain.

Diagnosis: plain old ordinary irritated nerve, which is apparently not difficult to do.

"Do you wear your hair back a lot?"

Yes. So my bad hair days have, quite possibly, irritated my last good nerve. Fabulous. Since Excedrin seemed to be helping, she said it would go away on its own. So, I left with a sense of relief and a prescription for Flonase. My ear was still stuffy after all. Allergies.

"No one suggested alien abduction?" Jenny asked. "Because really, random weird stabbing pain in your head? That can really be the only logical explanation."

I got to go to the dentist again today, for a cleaning. And I was able to thank him for scaring the crap out of me last week with his suggested diagnosis, which, of course, I had looked up online.

He admitted he was guilty of doing the same thing more than once, scaring himself with what he found online. Well then, he should know better than to randomly shoot out a strange diagnosis to people.

"Would you like me just to mark 'Hypochondriac' in big red letters in your chart?" he asked.
Why not, I said. I am sure it's what all my other doctors have done.

I Still Like Joel Better

2011-11-04T09:31:00.010-04:00

The picture is a little blurry, but I have this pin on my desk (thanks to Jason!).

The other day, a co-worker came in and saw it.

"What is this thing? Some kind of vacuum cleaner?"
"Um, it's Tom Servo."
"What's a Tom Servo?"
"Are you kidding?"
"No."
To the person she was on the phone with: "Do you know what a Tom Servo is? No, me either."
"Get out," I said, pointing to the door.

For the uninformed, THIS is Tom Servo.

I Gotta Be Me

2011-10-26T13:22:00.004-04:00

I am loud. I'm obnoxious and sarcastic. My sense of humor is a bit dry and a bit out there.
I swear probably more than I should.
I am opinionated, and always willing to share.
I will stand up and fight for the causes and people I believe in, and knock down haters, discriminators and just plain idiots.
I am book smart, slightly street smart and know more about classic movies and 80s pop culture than a normal person should.
I can be very selfish, but I also have one of the most generous hearts you will ever know.
I know I'm not for everyone, and I'm cool with that. Because if I'm not for you, it's really more your problem than mine.

Getting My Girl On

2011-10-23T20:30:00.020-04:00

I am, for the most part, a girly-girl. I wear dresses and makeup, and like to have my toe nails painted. But, there are two words that bring out the girly-girl in me like nothing else.

SPA DAY!

Yes, I was off to the spa at the Ritz Carlton for a day of pretty pampering. Translation: facial, body scrub, and hair and makeup. My girly cup runneth over.

Here is my "before." Pretty bare bones (and the lighting in my office is horrible).

After checking in at the spa and making a wish on a candle, I got robed up and had a mini cupcake in the lounge. Champagne? Yes please! I could get used to this.

I love getting facials, but I have to be super careful because of my rosacea, which (knock wood) is under control. I can't do anything involving any kind of microdermabrasion or strong peels. The facialist took my concerns to heart and gave me a pumpkin treatment and some steam. She said it would tingle. Yeah, it burned. Not too bad, but you knew it was on there. Then came the cooling mask. So refreshing! And with the mask comes the scalp massage, and lotion on my hands. Ahhhhh....

After the mask came off, she used light therapy. The red light helps with, obviously, redness. Somewhere here, I must have dozed off, because I snorted myself awake and she was using a blue light. I always doze off during facials. I can't help it. You're laying there in the dark on a cozy heated bed, soothing music is playing, and you have to keep your eyes closed most of the time. It's a recipe for a nap.

I feel so refreshed, and my face is positively glowing. Already feeling prettier.

After a break in a floating chair with (YAY!) more Champagne, and a tasty lunch in the garden, it's time for my Champagne Body Shimmer scrub.

More soothing music and another cozy bed. I'm relaxed already. I get to pick the lights in my treatment room. I went with pink. I told my scrub lady that with all the pink and Champagne sugar, I felt like Jayne Mansfield. Without the boobs.

"Just another Audrey," she said.

Scrub, wrapped like a taco, shower, lotion, wrapped like a taco again. Another scalp massage.... mmmmmm..... doze....

On to makeup. Now, I like to think I'm good at my makeup. I did go to Barbazon, after all. But I'm pretty basic. I usually use one shade of eyeshadow, maybe two if I'm trying to be fancy. The makeup artist at the Ritz... Wow. Lots of shades. Lots of brushes. Eyeliner applied with a brush. Result: the elusive (at least to me) smokey eye.

Hair time. My hair is a disaster. It's fine, dry, treated, curly, frizzy, wavy. It's like Taylor Dayne, circa "Tell it to my Heart." BUT, in the right hands, it blows out quite nicely. Maybe when I grow an arm out of my back and an extra set of eyes, I'll try doing it myself.

So, like I've said, I think I pull myself together pretty well. But apparently it takes a village to put the "Shell" in bombshell.

Sleepy Time

2011-10-23T12:45:00.004-04:00

I love to sleep. Some days, if I had someone who would make coffee and bring it to me, I'd stay in bed all day.

It's going to leave a mark

2011-09-23T15:56:00.007-04:00

I went to the dermatologist on Monday. Partly because I needed some refills, and partly because our insurance is changing on October 1, and specialist visits will now be $$$$.

While there, I indicated a mark on my temple. I've had it for a while, and I couldn't be sure, but I think it had gotten bigger. Or darker. Either way, different.

"It's probably nothing," she said, "but let's send it in and make sure." And with that, her nurse whipped a hypodermic needle out of a drawer. I am not good with needles, so I immediately closed my eyes. "Oh, don't go to the bad place," she said.

Too late.

I kept my eyes shut until she was completely done with whatever it was she did, and I was sporting a small round band aid on my left temple. Luckily, my hair usually flops that way, so it's covered. Unless I have a bad hair day, and have to pull it back in a ponytail. Which is pretty much everyday.

Regardless, I got a list of wound care instructions about keeping a band aid on it for 5-10 days, use peroxide and POLYSPORIN (all in caps, that's how important it is.) I had polysporin from the last time she scrapped something off me, but it expired in February. Not that I think it would hurt to still used it, but it might not be as effective. My dad would beg to differ. I guarantee you that right now, in his toiletry man-bag, Dickie has a tube of first aid cream that expired in the mid-90s.

"I need to stop at the store for peroxide (also expired), polysporin and little band-aids," I said to Jan.

"Why don't you have band-aids?" she asked.

"I do have band-aids, I just don't have little round ones."

"Why not?"

"Um... I just don't." (Sometimes, I just don't know.)

So, yes. 5-10 days. Sigh. Well, it's been three and I figured, three days, five days, what is the difference? I look like an idiot with a band-aid stuck halfway into my hair. I took it off and was ready to face the world.

And then the air hit it. YEEE-OUCH! And I think it's bleeding. It's definitely going to leave a mark. You win doc, I'll be re-bandaged. For two more days. Maybe three. Just to be on the safe side.

Don't Stop Believing I Hate Journey

2011-09-20T11:03:00.014-04:00

I love concerts. LOVE them. I love to hear the live music and, of course, to see my favorite bands in person. I cried when I was in the same room (okay, stadium) with Paul McCartney, Sting and the reunited Duran Duran. Since moving to South Florida, I have not been to many concerts. Because no good bands come here. It's rare. Like Haley's Comet. Yes, they go to Miami and Fort Liquordale (seriously, there are liquor stores everywhere), but those cities are an hour to an hour a half away. It's like being in Binghamton all over again, and all the good bands went through Syracuse, leaving Bingo-town to Ratt and Cinderella. Granted Cinderella's drummer is from there, and my mom was his math teacher. I just wanted to see Prince. And Duran Duran...

I digress.

My friend Leslie is amazing, and she asked me to join her at the Night Ranger, Foreigner and Journey concert this past weekend. I went for the Night Ranger. They were my first concert in the 9th grade, so they are a bit of a sentimental favorite.

Now, usually, when you go to a show, the ticket says 7, but it doesn't start until 8, 7:30 at the earliest. Night Ranger came out at 6:50. It was still light out. People were nowhere near their seats. Well, we were. We're geeks.

Anyway, they rocked it. They were having fun, and sounded great. I wished our seats were closer so I could be on my feet right in front of them. I actually debated getting a T-shirt. I had the most awesome gray baseball shirt with black sleeves that I got from that first show. 7 Wishes tour… soooo fabulous. My inner 14 year old was wearing it. If I still had it, my outer 40 year old might have tried to pull it off. They can still rock in America, but I wished their set was longer. I am slightly suspicious they might have been wearing the same jeans from back then. Jack Blades, still with the hair, helped by the fan on the stage, blowing it back. It was a nice effect.

The roadies slapped the Foreigner stage up lickity split. Music started...Mr. Roboto? Nope. It was Foreigner. Huh, their lead singer looked like a Ramone, with his floppy hair, dark sunglasses and skinny emo lady jeans. But, since there was not one single original member of Foreigner up there on stage, we technically saw some kind of sanctioned cover band. They sounded great. I was surprised I knew all the songs. The guy behind us and his lady friend were apparently huge fans, dancing up and down the aisle playing air guitar on a T-shirt. If there is a Foreigner version of the hippie shuffle, he was doing it. I predicted that Jukebox Hero might make both of his heads explode, and I am pretty sure I was right. Big finish... Mr. Roboto again? Nope. False alarm.

Journey. Sigh… I usually refer to them as "Fucking Journey," said with more than a little disdain. For awhile, there was an '80s station in Atlanta, and it seemed like every time they cut to commercial, they'd say, "when we come back, a hit from Journey."

Really?? I lived in the '80s. Journey was not as huge as people think they were. Were they? And "Don't Stop Believing,"sigh. So overplayed, so…. Fucking Journey.

BUT, I love concerts, so I was there. On my feet. And it's not like I don't know all the words to all the songs, because oddly enough, I do. Woo hooo…

And soooooo bored.

Yeah, their tiny little lead singer sounds just like Steve Perry, but did we need a prolonged guitar solo on every single song? I don't think so. And no one wants to hear your new song, Journey. Everyone here squeezed into too tight brand new Journey shirts just want to hear your shit back catalog.

We left a little early, and heard the dreaded "Don't Stop…" just beginning as we were walking to the car.

It's official. I do not like Journey.

And Skinny Emo Lady Jeans is the name of my new band.

Cheers!

2011-06-07T21:18:00.093-04:00

Making your way in the world today takes every thing you got
Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot
Wouldn't you like to get away?
Sometimes you wanna go......

Here.

Beautiful, isn't it? If you can imagine the scent of flowers and nothing but the sounds of little birds singing... how could you not be totally relaxed. That is exactly what we had in mind when my friend Paige and I planned our trip to Sonoma. Wine, peace, beautiful views and great food. We were not disappointed.

We met up in San Francisco, and set out for our wine adventure with a first stop in the Enterprise office, where they were out of the sedans (which I had reserved), so I was offered a Jeep Patriot. It's not a big SUV, but bigger than the Civic I drive. Either way, I took a deep breath and we were off! We found the best radio station, too. I don't remember the call letters, but it's "The Bay's Old School" station. Prince, Madonna, all the dance songs we loved at the 18 and over nights at Eclipse. So we "Let the Music Play..."

(On a side note, as someone in the market for a new car, the Patriot is pretty easy to handle, but it has a lot of blind spots and not a lot of power.)

And then there came a gasp from the passenger seat. WHAT!?!??

This.

And this.

And so we had to do this.

Because we're on vacation! In California!

Back on the road to Sonoma, we finally came across our goal. Wineries. We passed a couple that came up on us quick, but then we saw one and said, we have to start somewhere, and pulled in.

Welcome to Viansa Winery & Marketplace. The name probably doesn't sound familiar, but that doesn't mean it's because their wines are bad. Exactly the opposite. They are fantastic. But this winery only sells their award-winning wines, which are produced with Italian varietals grown in California, on-site and on their website. It was hard to pick a favorite, but I did leave with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a membership to their wine club, because I find life is better when wine is just delivered to your door.

After a few more wineries, we found our hotel, the Sonoma Creek Inn, which says it's "close to the downtown area of Sonoma with it's historic plaza." Yeah, it's not really. Well, I guess three or four miles is "close," but not really within walking distance, which is what we had thought. Anyway, off to the plaza for a little exploring and dinner.

The downtown Sonoma area, with the plaza, is a cute little town, with mom and pop stores, cafes and tasting rooms, very arty and funky. One word drew us in... Cheese. The Sonoma Cheese Factory was like a cross between wine shop/gift shop/gourmet grocery/candy shop and cafe. There were samples of cheese all around. You would not think lavender cheese would be good. You'd be wrong. It's amazing!

Thanks to a recommendation from a photographer friend, we had reservations at The Girl + The Fig, a small restaurant serving farm-to-table dishes with a French flair. Who would have thought that something so simple as heirloom radishes would make such a delicious appetizer. Served with a side of anchovy butter and a sprinkle of grey sea salt, it was crisp, clean and plain yummy. For dinner, there was wild flounder meuniere with a Yukon potato puree and cello spinach—the lemon-caper brown butter soaked into the potatoes in such a sinfully wonderful way—and a shellfish and pork belly stew with scallops, clams, mussels, white beans, arugula and a saffron fume. Did I mention it had pork belly? Velvety yet crispy, wonderfully salty squares of pork belly?!? Yeah. It was goooooooooooood.

Saturday dawned rainy, but we were excited because we had booked a cooking class at Ramekins Culinary School & Inn. We were set to learn how to make Mexican appetizers with Chef Agustin Gaytan, who has been with Ramekins since it opened in 1998. We were broken up into groups, each group challenged with making one of the menu items completely from scratch, including roasting and grilling a lot of chiles, peppers, tomatillos... yeah, no jarred salsas here. Everything was fresh. I was on "Team Tamale," helping to make Tamalitos de Rajaas y Queso, which were mini tamales filled with roasted Chilaca chiles, Oaxaacan-style cheese and pickled jalapeno tomatillo salsa. A very nice team member, Bob, taught me how to peel away the skins from grilled chilies, as well as a very informative knife lesson that I am still practicing.

Here is the finished product in the front, along with the Jalapenos Rellenos de Atun, jalapeno chiles filled with grilled tuna, olives, capers, garlic and raisins. They were...interesting

Paige was on the team that created Sopesitos de Chorizo—griddled masa cakes topped with chorizo, queso fresco and purple tomatillo salsa. They were tasty!

In addition to, naturally, margaritas, there also were Tostaditas de Tinga—crispy corn tortillas with shredded pork, roasted tomato, chipotle chiles, grilled onion, crumbled cheese and avocado—on the menu. Also tasty!

Ramekins is definitely a place I want to go back to, but in the meantime, I am on the lookout for hands-on cooking classes here in West Palm. Any advice?

Back on the road to Santa Rosa. But first, there are wineries all along the road. Who are we not to stop and check things out? Kenwood Vineyards was rustic and beautiful. Flowers and olive trees all around, with a tasting room in a converted barn.

Then there was this. Wow.

This is Chateau St Jean. The wines were as good as the environment. They had a section of their beautiful garden devoted to grape varietals, which I thought was interesting.

And more flowers. Seriously, what is this??

Have I mentioned how fabulous the views are in Wine Country? Seriously, everything is like a postcard, with the mountains and vineyards and flowers. Here is a view from St. Francis Winery & Vineyards. See what I mean?

We spent Saturday night at The Vintners Inn in Santa Rosa, which was wonderfully quaint and comfortable, with the kind of robes you actually think about putting in your suitcase and a bottle of wine. Although, there was a wedding there, and the bridal party was staying in our building, so that was probably a mistake.

We had dinner at the on-site restaurant, John Ashe & Co., which overlooked the vineyards, where we enjoyed Pacific Halibut a la Plancha with spring cassoulet, which was delightfully fresh, and Pan-seared Diver Scallops with Masami Pork Belly, served with potato rosti, aigre-douce and the most wonderful yellow cauliflower puree. Seriously, I need to learn how to make yellow cauliflower puree. The picture doesn't do it justice, but YUMMMMMMM.

Up and at 'em, it's off to Healdsburg, which was a town of delights. We possibly became the next reality TV stars at the Murphy-Goode tasting room. They have a new Rose called Gaga (no relation), that was delightful, and I am not a fan of "pink" wine.

Throughout the day, we were also able to hit some tasting rooms that are familiar to everyone. Kendall-Jackson, La Crema and Toad Hollow Vineyards, all of which were delightful. Also, I'll add right now, we found that at every winery we visited throughout the weekend, we were offered tastes of wines beyond the tasting menus or number of wines you were allotted on a tasting flight. For the most part, every single tasting host was more than happy to let us taste pretty much whatever we wanted, and we received warm welcomes, without being faced with a "wine snob."

Highlights of our day in Healdsburg didn't just involve wine. We had lunch at Healdsburg Bar & Grill. I don't know if it's because I was slightly hungover, slightly buzzed or a combination of both, but their signature HBC Burger was one of the best burgers I have ever had. EVER! And with a side of truffle oil and Parmigiano-Reggiano fries, how could you go wrong?!?! Answer: You can't.

For a mid-afternoon pick-up, we also hit the Flying Goat for coffee, which was probably what Starbucks was before it became Starbucks. Good coffee in a big mug for $2. Perfect.

Our biggest discovery in Healdsburg, though, was wine related. The sign read "Cult Wines." What is a cult wine, we said. In a word, it's fabulous. It lead us to Kerry, who was the tasting host for Stephen & Walker Trust Winery Limited. Another winery that only sells through its tasting room and the web, it is the labor of love of Nancy Walker, who has been making wine for 22 years, and her husband Tony Stephen, who brings 20 years of experience. Their award-winning wines are so full of life. I am not a fan of port, but their Portentous was fantastic. I joined the wine club because, again, life is better when they deliver wine right to your door, and it's cheaper than flying back out there to load up on this wine.

Our trip ended too soon. There was so much we saw, but so much we didn't have time to see. I'm already planning a return trip.

Any takers?

Smashed and mashed

2011-04-11T18:40:00.020-04:00

Rumor has it, when I was little, I did not like mashed potatoes. No matter what kind of "Here comes the airplane/train" game was played, I would not eat them. There is even talk of my parents making them with chocolate milk. And while that apparently didn't work either, it could have been the thing that set off my love of dipping french fries into a Frosty. Hmm....

I don't want to disparage Jan's cooking ability. She hates cooking to this day, don't get me wrong, but she is not bad at it. I don't know what made me turn up my button nose at mashed potatoes. Perhaps it was a texture thing. I do have texture issues: cottage cheese, grits, tapioca pudding, sometimes even scrambled eggs if they are runny will cause my throat to close up. Don't even get me started on that Aquafresh toothpaste that foams up in your mouth. UGH!!!

But then, I don't know how, I don't know where, maybe it was Thanksgiving, maybe it was a Wednesday, but one day, I started to like mashed potatoes. Not just like them. Love them. They are officially one of my favorite things. If they are done right, that is. You think they are easy to make, but they also are easy to screw up.

I will order something on a menu specifically if it comes with mashed potatoes. In Atlanta, I had my favorites. The Highland Tap (my favorite restaurant in the ATL!), they were quite good. At Digger's, the sports bar where I used to work, they were awesome. They made them from scratch in a mixer as big as a small horse. Dick & Harry's, I don't even know if that place is still open (it was on Holcomb Bridge), but ohhh.... I ordered a fish that was so delicate, it seemed to melt right in with the velvety mashed potatoes it was served on. Heaven on a plate! I found Houston's mashed potatoes too fussy, with lots of (I think) parsley and, if there is such a thing, too much butter. It just kind of sat there, almost like a puddle of oil. Mashed potatoes need to be kept simple. Some garlic or cheese is welcome, but please leave out the horseradish or wasabi.

And don't even come at me with instant mashed potatoes. Really?!!?!? Boxed instant mashed potatoes are to me what broccoli on pizza is to my Uncle Joe (Trust me on that one).

So, to make the perfect mashed potatoes at home takes a little elbow grease, but it's worth it. I used to like them all whipped up with the hand mixer, creamy and lump free. Probably a texture issue again. But my friend Chris taught me a different way. I start with just basic Idaho potatoes, peel them, rinse them, chop them into chunks. Good sized chunks, not quartered, but not a dice. Something you'd want in a good potato salad. Put them in a large saucepan or stockpot, cover them with water, salt the water and get it boiling. I also like to toss a heaping spoonful of minced garlic in to boil with the potatoes. Another flavor layer. If I am doing red potatoes, I don't peel them. The skins add flavor, color and (GASP!) texture.

While the potatoes are boiling, here is a fun fact. If you find a potato chip that is a bit green, it means the potato sat in the sun too long before it got to the Frito-Lay. Yep, it's a sunburn!

OK, now pour some milk into a coffee mug along with a good sized dollop (a tablespoon or two. Or three) of butter, and put it in the microwave for about a minute or so to warm it up. Check the potatoes to make sure they are soft. (This is why I am not really good at making potato salad. I overcook the potatoes for that. I'm wicked good at mashed potato salad.) Drain them and put them back in the hot pan. Now take a masher and smoosh them a bit to break them up. Pour in some of the heated milk and butter. Mash a little more, and then take out a whisk. Stir them up with the whisk, while adding the milk a little at a time, until they are the consistency you want, even if you don't use all the milk. Salt and pepper to taste! Aren't they gorgeous, lumps and all!?!?!?

Especially when served with a yummy London broil and spinach with fresh ground nutmeg. (I took out my hammer and tapped open a fresh nutmeg and grated it on that spinach. Oh yeah, I am that fancy.)

Here is my "Love you Lumps" playlist. Enjoy!

I'm So Tired The Beatles ("I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink." What do you think?)
You Oughta Know Alanis Morissette
Ice Sarah McLachlan ("The ice is thin, come on dive in...")
If Dirt Were Dollars Don Henley
This is the Last Time Keane
Shoo-Bee-Doo Madonna (Gotta love old school squeaky voiced Madonna!)
You Owe me an IOU Hot Hot Heat ("He was in the habit of taking things for granted.")
Other Voices The Cure
This Grudge Alanis Morissette ("Who's it hurting now? Who's the one that's stuck?")
Private Dancer Tina Turner ("Deutschmarks or dollars? American Express will do nicely, thank you.")
Not So Strong James (Have I mentioned I saw James in a club with about 150 other people. Yeah, I am that cool.)
Man Yeah Yeah Yeahs
You Don't Bring me Flowers Barbara Streisand and 2011 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee Neil Diamond
Down to Earth Barenaked Ladies ("Some people are all show. I don't mind that if the show is worth watching.")
I'm Shakin' Rooney (Not to be confused with the family that owns the 6-time Super Bowl Champion Pittsburgh Steelers or the stinky hippie fest that used to be in Deposit, NY every summer.)
Waltz Away Dreaming George Michael and Toby Bourke (Probably not related to Ray.)
I'm Gonna Miss You Milli Vanilli (oh, you know it's true. I love my Milli Vannli!)
Those Were the Days My Friend Sandie Shaw ("Once upon a time there was a tavern..." Don't the best stories start like that??)
Not All Me Alanis Morissette ("It's not all me. It's not all my fault. I may remind you, but I won't take it all on.")
Hung Up Madonna
Lullabye Concrete Blonde ("When your breathing is the wind, and your crying is the rain, well I know you will remember because the music is forever.")

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

2010-12-22T20:48:00.042-05:00

I have a huge box of Christmas decorations on the top shelf of my coat closet. I pull it down, balancing it on my head to get it off the shelf.

I pull out last year's cards (so I know who to send them to this year), my stockings and other holiday do-dads. Then there are all my smaller boxes full of ornaments. My tree does not have a "theme." I never could understand people who would just do a "red and white" tree or just gold. Please!! It's Christmas!! It's meant to be a mish-mash of fun!

I do have my traditional Hallmark ornaments—some Scarletts, a Marilyn, a Rhett, Pooh and Tigger, Dorothy and the Scarecrow, the Grinch and Max, Santa playing Trivial Pursuit. I even have a dill pickle that my friend Matt gave me. And this one:

Then I have a lot of ornaments with tags. Not store tags. Tiny little handmade tags in my mom's super neat handwriting. "Shell 92," "Shell 85," "Mich 94." Jan made the tags to mark the ornaments that my Grandma gave me. Each year at Thanksgiving, my cousins, Jenny and I all got an ornament from her. Some were store bought. Some are crafty. I don't know if she made them all, or got them at a craft show, but Margaret has been known to whip up some crafts.

We all ended up with so many ornaments, I think when we all moved away from home, our parents had to buy some to fill all the empty spaces. Then my cousins started having kids, and then the ornaments were for them. I'm not going to lie. I was jealous. I missed getting those ornaments, even though I have so many, I can't fit them all on my tree. Actually, I had so many, I didn't even realize until this year that I had two tarnished silver angels. On further investigation, I found a tag. "Jen 94."

Oops.

I'll leave the tags on them all, and make new ones when they fall off or fade, so I'll always know when I got them, and so they stand out. Because they are special, just like the lady who gave them to me.

Here's some of Margaret's greatest hits!

This angel doesn't have a tag, but until I bought the glittery disco star, it was on the top of my tree.

"Shell 85" It's a bee. In a dice that only has four dots on each side. She made it.

"Shelly 84"

"Shell 90" I know she probably made this one. My grandfather collected sand dollars all the time. There is another one without a tag that has a plastic toy soldier glued to it, which you can see in the above picture of the angel.

"Shell 89" Of course. 1989 just screams mirrored disco drum!!!

"Shell 92" This one is the best. She made it, and if you squeeze it, it plays a tinny version of Rudolph and the nose lights up. Love it! The day I press it and nothing happens is the day I lose it at Michael's trying to figure out how to get a new one in there.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

Picking up the pieces

2010-11-30T00:16:00.006-05:00

The most precious gift you have to offer someone is your heart.

This is true. It's pretty and red and full of love and hope. And when you actually offer it to someone, you do it with both hands, holding it carefully. Because although it's bright red and full of hope and all that, it's still like glass.

Inevitably, you'll end up giving it to someone clumsy. They might bobble your heart, or drop it. It might crack. They are quick to apologize, though, helping you to pick up any pieces, and fixing the cracks. And you go on, fixed and happy, all is well.

Or.... they will take it and actually shatter it into pieces, like they threw it down on the ground, breaking it into more pieces than you thought it could have, leaving you to try to collect the bits alone and put them back together.

And you do. Because you can't breathe with your heart in all these pieces. You slowly put it back together with the glue of friendship, work, cat kisses (or dog kisses, either way, they make amazing glue!), and the strength you pull from the pieces that are left.

But, like a broken cup, you never find all the pieces. Not without help. Sometimes a friend will stumble across a random chip that you can tuck back in, getting you back together.

Or, you'll discover that the person who took the most precious thing you owned and shattered it like a bar glass has kept a piece of it. They'll stand before you, dangling it between their fingers like a treat, trying to coax you to them, offering your whole heart back.

That's when you have to decide what to do.

Do you reach for that missing piece, or do you realize that sometimes the greatest works of art are missing a piece or two.

Random Thoughts

2010-08-20T15:53:00.003-04:00

Person I want to punch: Keenan the weatherman. He’s far too perky about the heat.

Damn, that woman is sitting way to far forward. If the airbag were to go off, her head would explode like an over-ripe cantaloupe.

CNN is reporting that for every 100 single women, there are 88 single men. What they don’t say is that of those 88, 10% are decent, 20% are gay, 15% actually have a girlfriend and 55% are total douche bags, because they know the odds are in their favor.

When I ask for a picture of candy bars, don’t send me a picture of cupcakes. It’s not the same, and no it’s not okay.

Like my friend Stanchez, I too am tired of hoes.

My cat uses her litter box every single time she needs to go, and always has. Trust me when I say that’s awesome, but not awesome enough to ever be my Facebook status.

All the single ladies

2010-07-09T17:33:00.026-04:00

Hi. I'm Michelle, and I'm single.

There. I said it. It didn't hurt. It's a fact. I live with it every day. Admittedly, some days are better than others. Some days I don't even think about my status, and there are some days where I just can't forget it.

And that's OK.

That's the life of a single gal. We get up, we go to work, we do our thing. We are, for the most part, happy with who we are, where we're going and what we're doing, sometimes because we don't have to take anyone else's wants into account. When I come home and want to watch my DVR'd soaps before cooking dinner, I can, guilt free. If I came back from a trip on Tuesday, and my unpacked suitcase is still sitting on my bedroom floor on Friday, no one is going to make a snarky comment.

Don't get me wrong. I would love to meet someone. It would be great to have someone to come home to, and someone to go out with. But it's hard. Not just for me. I have a lot of single girlfriends in the same boat. But we're OK.

Which leads me to the whole point of this. Earlier this week, my awesome friend Nancy posted a story from MSN called 19 Things You Never Say to a Single Woman. Apparently there was a poll of single women, and they were asked what they are most sick of hearing from "well-meaning" friends/family/whatnot. Every single one of those 19 would have made my list. Especially after recent dealings with douchebags and spending time at home with my mom. (I love her. I know she means well. At least I think she does...)

There were some comments under the choices. But I was in such a mood that I had to add my own. Let me set the scene...Nothing, and I mean nothing, will kill a fabulous day (I mean, life is good, my hair turned out frizz-free, I am wearing my skinny pants walking on sunshine...) than running into someone, or talking to someone on the phone that maybe you haven't seen or talked to in a while. They'll ask you how you are, and then, in the very next sentence (and we single gals know it's coming)...."So, are you seeing anyone?"

"No, not right now." And just when I'm about to ask how they are, or talk about my great job, I notice something... when I revealed I was single, their shoulders dropped a little and their head tilted to the side, the smile fading a bit...and then there is the sigh... "oh..." (and if it's over the phone, we can still tell you're doing it!)

"well..." they will say, before adding one or more of the following:

1. It happens when you're not looking.
What does that even mean??? If you leave the house, you're looking. I mean, I don’t stalk boys in bars or catch them in bear traps, but isn’t the whole reason we put on some pretty and open the front door to attract some attention???

2. There are plenty of fish in the sea.
I hung out with a boy who kissed like a fish. He did that O thing with his mouth, like a goldfish blowing bubbles. Why would I want to date a fish?

3. So, why are you single?
I don’t know. Why are you a rude asshat?

4. You're too picky.
One of my mom's favorites. This implies that at my age, I have decent options to pick from. No. I have men my dad's age (EEWWW!), or there are “broken toys.” Men bitter from divorce or other heartbreaks, really not open to anything. Or they're going through some sort of pre-midlife crisis, so they are looking not for 39-year-old fun, stable, sane me, but Brittni or Ashlee the 27-year-old party girl.

5. You'll find the right person for you.
Gee... Thanks....What the hell does that mean?!?!

6. He's out there.
Where? Here? Ireland? Croatia? Can you give me a better hint than that?

7. It was just bad timing.
Yeah, I’m so much better at 7 o’clock than I am at 4.

8. Just have fun with it!
I thought I was, until you made me feel like a social freak by bombarding me with “helpful” cliches.

9. Have you tried online dating?
All the child-molester-looking, lying freaks the Internet can hold!

10. He just wasn't the right guy for you.
No shit!

11. Well, when my boyfriend and I first got together…
Fuck you.

12. When the time is right, you will meet someone.
Again, 7? 9?

13. Wow, I wish I were single and in your shoes!
Are you being held hostage? Because if not, no you don’t, so don’t fucking lie to me.

14. Your turn next [at weddings].
Since I’m the only single person there under 60 and over 12, that may or may not actually be the case.

15. It will happen when you least expect it.
The Spanish Inquisition? Because I hear no one expects that.

16. Some guy is going to come along and ruin your career/life plans.
I’m 39. I have no plans further than my massage tomorrow. What’s to ruin?

17. But you're so pretty! Why don't you have a boyfriend?
Again, fuck you. Following that logic, only “pretty” girls have boyfriends. And I don’t... So I guess that makes you a liar and me a troll. Awesome.

18. It just wasn't meant to be.
My mother says this all the time. What the fuck does it mean, “meant to be?” That's a line from a million movies. Movies aren't real!!!

19. Sure, my guy rescues kids from abusive homes, donated my sister a kidney, and picks up fresh flowers for me daily on his way home from work, but will he QUIT IT with the sports on TV already?
Yeah, I hate that my husband watches sports on TV too... Oh wait, I don’t have one. Fuck you!

Some call it bitter, I call it cynical and slightly jaded, yet still smart, charming and funny in an honestly biting kind of way.

Long story short (I know, too late!) the only thing these "helpful" cliches really do is help in making us feel like there is something wrong with us because we are single. And that is not true. We all are fabulous! Hell, we keep throwing our hearts in the ring, don't we? With a smile on our faces and probably wearing an uncomfortable bra.

And that's OK!

Yes, yes you do. With soap!!!

2010-07-08T20:27:00.007-04:00

Ah, adventures in Bingo-town. I was at Dillenger’s last Friday with my friend Laurie-Ann, after a lovely dinner at Cortese (YUM!). We had nice seats at the back bar, where they will take your credit card (front bar is cash only, because of the college kids). I was enjoying a Smithwick's, and L-A couldn't really make up her mind.

I went downstairs to the ladies' room, and on my way back, two guys came out of the men's room and were walking ahead of me. They looked like normal enough fellows.

I could not help but overhear their conversation. Since they were not in any hurry to climb the stairs.

"Dude! We don’t have to wash our hands!"
"Fuck that. It’s not like we’re girls. We don’t wipe anything, so really, why do we need to?"
"It’s stupid."

I kept my horror in check, and made sure not to touch the railing where they had.

Of course they are sitting RIGHT NEXT TO ME at the bar. I tried not to make eye contact. One of them walked away, and the other one had some business with the bartender, and then he got up, but was coming back.

I leaned over and said to the bartender, "Be careful taking anything from him, as I overheard him and his buddy talk about how they don’t have to wash their hands after going to bathroom." I figured it was my civic duty.

“So I shouldn’t shake his hand?” the bartender asked.

“No,” I said, smiling sweetly, “because apparently he doesn’t wash the dick off of it.”

The bartender’s eyes went wide. “I think you just made my night,” he said with a smile.

I do what I can folks.

And... um.. YES!!! Yes you do!! Every time! With soap, you nasty bastards!!!!!

Lazy Sunday

2010-05-16T18:39:00.038-04:00

It all started with Rob Lowe.

Well, that isn't exactly true. It started with peacocks. A picture of a peacock, actually. A picture of the peacock that tried to attack me in Taos. The picture is on my refrigerator, and I was adjusting it while on the phone with my sister. I was having trouble due to all the magnets and what-not on my refrigerator.

"I think I have too much shit on my refrigerator," I said to Jenny.
"I can't even see it, and I know that's true," she replied.

She was right, of course. I treat my refrigerator like a giant cork board, with tons of magnets and pictures and postcards. It's like a scrapbook you can look at everyday, without the worry of buying acid-free paper, special scissors and fancy doo-dads.

Here it is in all its glory:

Here's the top:

And here's the bottom:

It's a lot. I know. There are some who would love it. I have a friend whose refrigerator is so covered, I don't even know what color it is. And there are some that would just gasp in horror. Chris' ex-roommate was one such person. He considered any magnet on the refrigerator to be "low class." Because when I think of the epicenter of class, I think this boy's hometown of Aynor, S.C.

But, like I said, it's a huge scrapbook. There are magnets from all the states I've been to. The Atlanta skyline magnet I bought at the airport the first time I went back home after moving to Florida. The postcard Chris sent me from Paris, and the one Mat (just one "t") sent me from London. The picture of me and Jenny and the one of me and my girls! The magnet to remind me to feel my girls. The banner I stole from O'Shea's on St. Patrick's Day, and the Steelers flag I stole from some bar in Coca Beach (your keys can work as well as a knife in cutting those things free in a hurry...) All my Beatles magnets. And my hotties! Sting! Ryan Reynolds... you just want to rub that belly like he's Buddha. And both the George's. Bob Barker! And the peacock that tried to attack me, with it's tail all spread out.

And then, in this week's Entertainment Weekly was this picture. I knew I had to somehow add it to the mix.

You see, it did all start with Rob Lowe. Way back when, I got a subscription to 16 magazine. Not to be confused with Seventeen, 16 was full of pull-out posters of all the hotties. And all the hotties were in The Outsiders. My closet doors were covered in posters of Rob, Tommy Howell, Emilio Estevez, Matt Dillon and Ralph Macchio. Oh, and Tom Cruise. (This was way before he was so creepy.)

So, to get Rob up, some things have to go. I took every thing off:

Blah! How boring!!! And EWWWW! How dirty!!! OK, so first a good scrub (each magnet got a wipe with my counter wipes, too). Here they all are in a stack.

Oh crap!!! There are more on the side!!

OK, now here they all are. It's not so many. Is it?

I know. Not all of them will go back up...I started placing things with a bit more restraint. Although somethings most definitely stay. I cut back on the states, now only using the three that mean the most, New York, Georgia and Florida. I said good-bye to the St. Patrick's Day banner, and the second picture of Ryan. The Sting and I will go in a frame. And there is no more fun with Dick and Jane (I think I want to white out the "e's" on those and send them to Dick and Jan...). And so, here is the result. Still fun, but not as cluttered.

Maybe next Sunday, I'll tackle the inside.

And, because I like to whistle while I work, here is the "Rob Lowe's still got it" playlist!

Taxman The Beatles
Just a Friend Bizz Markie (this was one of our sorority songs...except we sang "You! You got what I need. Too bad you're just a TKE. Too bad you're just a TKE.")
Sweet Dreams Patsy Cline
Take Me to Heart Quarterflash ("I'm the chill that never left your spine.")
Love is a Battlefield Pat Benatar ("We are young....")
Push Sarah McLaughlin
Unfinished Barenaked Ladies
Ain't No Other Man Christina Aguillera
Let Love be Your Energy Robbie Williams
Summertime Barenaked Ladies
Surrendering Alanis Morissette
Money Can't Buy It Annie Lennox
Every Woman in the World Air Supply (not embarrassed at all!!!)
Home Sweet Home Motley Crue (Although Vince Neil should be with all that botox!)
Joy in Repetition Prince ("Four-letter words are seldom heard with such dignity and bite.")
All my Loving Paul McCartney (Live, from the tour I saw in the ATL with Kara!)
Ruby Tuesday NOT the Rolling Stones (I wish I knew who did this cover. It was on a mix sent by a friend, and he didn't list the songs.)
Way Out Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Girlfriend Matthew Sweet (Also someone I saw in concert in the ATL with Kara!)
Leather & Lace Stevie Nicks and Don Henley
Jerome Barenaked Ladies (Kevin wrote this song. He told me about it when we chatted.)
Cry Little Sister Sisters of Mercy (From The Lost Boys. RIP Corey. OH, he had a Rob Lowe poster too!!!)
The Sun Always Shines on TV A-ha

Musings on Margaret

2010-05-09T19:52:00.044-04:00

When people talk about their grandmothers, they tell stories of little old ladies who don't do much or are even in homes, saying, "well, she is 80."

I've never thought of my grandmother, Margaret, as old, even when she was 80 (she's 88 now). I actually think she's pretty fabulous. And, if Betty White's appearance on Saturday Night Live shows us anything, it's that 88 might just be the next.... well, at least 75.

Margaret has been on her own for 20 years. My Grandfather, Jack, died from pancreatic cancer when I was a senior in high school. I say "on her own," but that's not really true. She's been surrounded by groups of friends ever since. She's gone on cruises, and is always out, playing cards, going to lunch or the movies. It's rare to actually find her at home if you call. Margaret has shit to do.

I have been thinking about my gram a lot lately, remembering things and smiling at her fabulosity.

Crescent rolls. When we were little, our parents went to Europe, so Jenny and I stayed with our grandparents. Every morning, there would be the pop of the can, and then the smell of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. That smell always reminds me of her.

So does sandalwood. Grandma had this owl incense burner, and I would always ask her to light a cone of incense. I don't know why I was so obsessed with it, but she would always light one for me. A couple years ago, she gave me the owl incense burner. I have it in my living room (And, of course, sandalwood cones).

Margaret likes hair to be neat. She is forever saying she wishes people's hair was neat. (I think I get that from her, because I'm forever looking at people's hair and rolling my eyes.) I can only imagine what she thinks of the unruly mop on the top of my head. She probably rolls her eyes behind my back. That's okay, Gram. I roll mine right at my reflection.

She loves to play games. Scrabble, pinnacle, rummy, Monopoly. And she's cut throat at it. She plays to win, my Grandma, and she doesn't care if you are her loving granddaughter. If you don't have the money to pay the rent on her Boardwalk, she will laugh and say, "Give up??" She's in our football pool, and not this past season (which I won, thank you very much), but I believe the season before, she won. She didn't just win. She kicked our asses from the beginning of the season on. And just try to keep her away from a slot machine.

She also loves her vodka martinis. On the rocks. With olives. Stirred with a small, white, plastic spoon. She brings her own olives when she visits, because when she buys a jar, she drains out the brine and fills the jar with water, to cut down on the salt.

When I call her, or when she sees me, she stops herself before saying my name. There is always that little pause where she wants to call me "Shelly," like they did when I was little, but knows I go by Michelle, now. Sometimes, she stops herself mid-name, so she ends up calling me "Shmichelle." Again, that's okay, Gram. You can call me anything you want.

And, she can be brutally honest. We were in Vegas (again, just try to keep her away from the slots) for my cousin's wedding. In August. She made a comment on the heat and it being August. I said, "Don't worry, Grandma. If I get married, I promise not to do it in Vegas in August." Her reply, "Well you'd better get a move on, I'm not getting any younger." Ouch. I blew that part off and said, "What are you talking about? You have 20 more years before Willard Scott will even think of saying your name on the Today show."

Unfortunately, though, that might not happen. You see, we found out that Margaret is sick. Although she has not smoked in more than 30-some years, she has lung cancer. We're all remaining positive, though, and sending out good thoughts and prayers her way, because she's a strong lady and we all love her so much.

I've been afraid to call her. Afraid that as soon as I heard her voice, I would start crying, and I didn't want her to be upset. But today, I took a deep breath and pressed SEND on her number, so I could wish her a happy Mother's Day. And when she answered, and I heard her voice over the din of her TV, I just smiled and said, "Hi Grandma." And there was the familiar pause before she said my name. She'd just got home from Mass and brunch with her friends, and was waiting for Sharon and Joe to come over for dinner. She sounded just like Margaret, strong and sure, and busy with plans.

I told you, my Grandma has shit to do.

UPDATE: Today is March 7, 2011, and Margaret is 89. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA!!!! Her treatments are going well, doing their job and keeping her cancer at bay. She's a little tired, and now a bit short of breath, which she is getting checked out today. I called her this morning to wish her a happy birthday. She sounded a bit scratchy, but said she was doing OK. If it means we get to celebrate 90 next year, I'll take OK every day.

The Sting and I

2010-02-16T18:10:00.015-05:00

As a member of the press, I've had the opportunity to interview a lot of people, quite a few of them celebrities. I try to maintain my dignity. I am a professional, after all. When I recently interviewed Olivia Newton-John, I did not geek out and tell her I have Xanadu on DVD. They're just people. No need to gush.

I got an invitation to the cocktail hour of the ForEverglades gala benefiting the Everglades Foundation at The Breakers Hotel last Friday, where Sting was going to perform.

So there was a chance that I would be in the same room with Sting. Now, I've seen him three times in concert, so technically, I've already been in the same room with him. But he didn't know that!

I raced home after work to pretty myself up on the off chance that I might actually make eye contact with Sting. Of course it was pouring...my hair does not do well in the rain. Or the sun. Or the humidity. But I said, "pull yourself together! You're going to see Sting!!!" A handful of very painfully placed bobby pins later, I was ready! Beauty is pain, so I added my high-high heels, too. Balls to the wall, baby. This was Sting!

I arrived and got my press pass. Security was tight! The PR ladies told me to enjoy myself, but come back to the front at 7:20 for the celebrity photo ops. OK... I'll be back. I grabbed a glass of Champagne and entered the fray. I made it all the way through the crowded room full of movers and shakers, when a white haired man walked up to me. "Hello, I'm Charlie Crist." I said, "Nice to meet you," and introduced myself. I didn't hit me until I turned away that I hadn't called him "Governor." Ah well. He's very tan. And not very tall. My mind was elsewhere.

I walked back up to the front at 7:20, and no Sting. But look, there were John McEnroe and Jack Nicklaus having a chat.

Jack Nicklaus, also shorter than I expected. No sign of Mrs. McEnroe. Perhaps she was somewhere shooting at the walls of heartache, bang, bang. Either way, not Sting. And I think Mark Foley was stalking me, because every time I turned around, there he was.

Then, someone started talking at the other end of the room, and the crowd pressed forward. Oh, the Governor making a speech, because he has to leave... Still no Sting. I wandered back into the main room, and the bells started to go off, and the doors to the ballroom opened. My cue to leave.

I got back to the front and saw the PR director of the Breakers. "You just missed him," she said.
"Who?"
"Sting. He was just here. He just walked down the hall."
"Are you kidding me??" I slammed down my Champagne glass and whipped my purse open, took out my camera, and down the hall I went, as fast as my high-high heels could carry me and my dignity. I didn't sprint, but I was a girl on a mission.

And there he was. Meeting John McEnroe's kids. Then they started to walk off, and I said, "Sting, can I get a picture?"

"Of course," he said. "But you have to be in it with your pretty red dress."

(GUSH!!!) "OK."

I looked around for someone to hand my camera to. No takers. And then he said, "I'll take it." And POP!

"I hope it comes out," he said, jumping in the elevator.

Oh... I think it's OK.

Of course I didn't know it did then. I had to get to a table to get out my valet ticket. My hands were shaking so much, I snapped a picture of my purse. Way to not geek out, Michelle.

My neighbors are ALIVE!! I need a drink!

2010-01-27T20:57:00.030-05:00

My neighbors across the hall put their Christmas stuff up on their porch. A decorated tree and a bunch of other crap. So much so, the man of the house (I am assuming) had to come out in the hall to smoke. Because, he said, there was too much Christmas stuff on the porch. Fine. Whatever. Happy Holidays.

Christmas came and went. And so did my neighbors. I never saw them. He was never out smoking in the hall, even though the Christmas stuff was still up on the porch. The shades where drawn, and there were no lights on at all. As it got later into January, I began to get concerned. Did they leave? Were they on vacation? Wouldn't you take your tree down if you went on vacation? Were they shut-ins? Were they really that lazy?

Or.....were they dead?? Still in the apartment, yet slipped from the mortal coil.

It has stressed me for days. I felt like Mrs. Kravitz! Last night, I was painting my toenails (Pat on the Black, thank you) when I heard voices in the hall. I almost tripped myself trying to get to the peephole to see if it was them. Nope. This morning, I almost put a Chinese restaurant menu in their door, just to see if it was gone when I got home from work. But someone started coming down the stairs.

I finally broke down and called the leasing office and asked if they still lived there, or where they on vacation, as I had not seen them in a month, and all that Christmas crap is still up. The manager said, funny you should say that, we are just drafting letters to tell people to get their Christmas stuff down. (Seriously people, it's January! Christmas was a month ago! How lazy are you???)

When I came home from work, I almost cried. All the blinds were open. The windows were open. Lights were on. And a very grumpy looking man was removing the Christmas stuff from the porch. It was as if in the letter to tell them to take their stuff the fuck down, they also said, by the way open up a window and turn on a light, everyone thinks you're dead!!!

I was so stressed and relieved, I had to cook. So I whipped up some Sausage, Mozzarella and Broccoli Rabe with Shells. Of course, Publix being Publix, they had no broccoli rabe, so I used regular broccoli. And an onion. Chopped.

OH, and the drink mentioned in the title... A nice Malbec. Not a great one, but it's OK. I like a red wine I can chew, and a white that bites back.

Oooo spicy Italian sausage. I had to take the casings off. Yeah, it's gross. Here is the "before."

I had to multitask, sauteing the onions while boiling the shells (but not cooking them all the way). Don't you love my new red pan!?!? Sooo pretty!! Merry Christmas to me!

I tossed the broccoli into the pasta for 15 seconds and then drained it quick and set it aside, then tossed the sausage in with the onions, along with some garlic and dried thyme. The recipe calls for three thyme sprigs that you end up taking out. Fuck that (sorry, Dickie), but I'm not spending a ton of money for fresh thyme just to use three sprigs. I say three good pinches of dried thyme and the flavor remains. That's how I roll.

Then comes a can of whole peeled tomatoes. Now, like when I make my Manhattan clam chowder, I used my kitchen sheers to cut the tomatoes into pieces, so you don't end up with a giant chunk of tomato. One tablespoon of flour gets stirred in to the sausage and onions for a few seconds, then pour in the tomatoes and cook until the sauce is thickened.

Then, and this was tricky, and involved a ladle so as not to make a bigger mess than I usually make, you pour the sausage mix into the pan with the shells and broccoli, mix it up and then pour all that into a 3-quart casserole pan. And then comes the best part of any meal—CHEESE!!!! Both grated Parmesan AND mozzarella.

Isn't it beautiful!?!?! It looks even better here:

Yep. Cheese is a beautiful thing, and goes with every meal. Except Chinese food. Which, like my sister, I just think is weird. I mean, cheese doesn't go with Chinese. Or Thai. Or Japanese. Thank God, it goes with everything else!!!

The GEAUX SAINTS! BEAT THOSE DOLTS Playlist
Norwegian Wood The Beatles (I want to cry, the remastered discs sound SO GOOD)
Come Back Down Toad the Wet Sprocket ("I've quit this a million times, can't quite stay away.")
Magic Olivia Newton-John (It took everything in me not to geek out and tell her I own Xanadu on DVD, and the soundtrack is on my iPod.)
Imaginary Friends Ron Sexsmith ("Do you comprehend now to imaginary friends you don't exist.")
Told You So Barenaked Ladies ("I had myself fooled into needing you. Did I fool you to?")
How to Be a Millionaire ABC ("I've seen the future, I can't afford it!")
A Man Alanis Morissette
There Must Be an Angel Eurythmics ("No one on Earth could feel like this. I'm thrown and overblown with bliss.")
Julia Chocolate Genius (eh)
Beat the Time Edie Brickell & New Bohemians
Movin' Out Billy Joel ("Savin' all his money for a Cadillac-ac-ac-ac-ac")
Sugar Tonic "Come on baby get your shoes on. You're lookin' like you need a rescue.")
Purple Rain Prince & the Revolution (the BEST Prince song EVER!!!)
Suspended in Time Olivia Newton-John (again, from Xanadu. Love it!!)
Because The Beatles
Stay a Little Longer Willie Nelson ("Pull off your coat and throw it in the corner, don't see why you don't stay a little longer.")
Rainy Days and Mondays The Carpenters ("Funny but it seems I always wind up here with you.")
You May Be Right Billy Joel
Alcohol Barenaked Ladies ("For while I cannot love myself, I'll use something else.")
She's Too Much Duran Duran (I wish someone wrote this for me. Love this song!)
Girl The Beatles
Zoom In Duran Duran (I LOVE YOU JOHN!!!)
11:59 Blondie
The Power of Goodbye Madonna ("You were my lesson I had to learn.")
Fumbling Toward Ecstasy Sarah McLaclan
Possession Sarah McLaclan ("And I will be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away.")
Shattered O.A.R. ("How many times can I break till I shatter?")
Set Adrift on Memory Bliss PM Dawn ("The camera pans, a cocktail glass...")
Don't Let it go to your Head Fefe Dobson ("So what if I want to kiss from your toes up to your lips....")

Flash photography is strictly prohibited

2009-12-15T20:51:00.009-05:00

Sorry, I was too busy handling raw chicken to take them. It happens.

Martha is still an evil genius, even though I haven't made one of her recipes in a bit. Tonight I decided to make Chicken with Prosciutto and Sage, because as we learned last time, everything is better with bacon. And prosciutto is just fancy Italian bacon. So again, what is not to love?!

So I got my chicken cutlets (real ones, not those weird things some ladies put in their bras), four of them to be specific. You put one (really? Just one?) sage leaf on each cutlet, and then wrap each one in a slice of delicious prosciutto. The recipe says to flatten with the palm of your hand, to help the prosciutto to adhere to the chicken. Then dredge each cutlet in flour mixed with salt and pepper, shaking off the excess.

Heat up 2 tablespoons of olive oil and cook two cutlets at a time, 3 minutes on each side. I took the cooked ones out, put them on a plate and put that in the microwave to keep them warm. I didn't turn the microwave on. I just trapped the heat around them. Whatever. Add a couple more tablespoons of olive oil to the pan and put the other two cutlets in. I also poured some olive oil in another pan (I really need new frying/saute pans, Santa!) with a generous spoonful of minced garlic.

When the garlic started smelling good, I threw in what seemed like half a bag of spinach, because you always need a green vegetable, and it really cooks down.

The chicken was done, so I took it out and into the pan I put in 3/4 cup of dry white wine and 1/4 cup of chicken broth to cook down. Be sure to stir up the stuff on the bottom of the pan. That is extra goodness. After that reduced, I took it off the heat, added a tablespoon of cold butter and about 4 minced sage leaves, and stirred until the butter melted.

Plate a piece of chicken and drizzle that sauce all over it. And the garlic spinach was just the right touch! YUM!

Here are some random thoughts to make up for not having photos:
1. I think Martha sold her soul to the devil at some point.
2. I am a really good, while very messy, cook. However, my messes are just splatters. I always practice healthy and safe food handling.
3. They've rearranged our Publix. I was just getting my shopping groove on, and now it's like I first moved here, and this Publix is all over the map.
4. I took my four cloth shopping bags to the store. And the ass hat that bagged my stuff crammed everything I bought into two of them. Because apparently he thought I had a Sherpa who was going to carry a cart's worth of stuff in two bulging bags, while I carried my box of soda.
5. What the hell is this "singing" show on NBC? Really Nick Lachey? Really?
6. I need to start buying the bigger jar of minced garlic.
7. I am a really good cook.
8. I did not mean to steal from Publix. Again.

The five-finger discount playlist:
38 Line Poem The Wonder Stuff
Are You Gonna Go My Way Lenny Kravitz (I think I have this song on my iPod 3 different times. It makes me toss my hair around.)
Dull Life Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs (We've seen the nightmare of the lies that you speak.)
Revolution Granddaddy (This makes me want to start a revolution to break up this group, because this Beatles cover is LAME.)
The Safety Dance Men Without Hats (One of the best one-hit wonders EVER! How do you not love this song?)
Animal I Have Become Three Days Grace
Come Home James
Perfect Girl Sarah McLachlan (Am I faithful, am I strong, am I good enough to belong)
False Start The Wonder Stuff
Hungry Like the Wolf Duran Duran (I LOVE YOU JOHN!!)
End The Cure
In My Life Ben Lee (Another sucky Beatles cover, and he should be arrested, because it's a crime to butcher such a beautiful song.)
The Last Resort The Eagles (You call some place "paradise," kiss it good-bye)
The New Sad Barenaked Ladies
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road Elton John (It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics to set you on your feet again)
Dirty Laundry Don Henley (People love it when you lose, they love dirty laundry.... just ask Tiger.)
Beautiful Barenaked Ladies
Mother's Little Helper The Rolling Stones
Champagne Supernova Oasis (How many special people change)

You had me at BACON!

2009-12-04T20:56:00.048-05:00

Wow, I have been slacking off!! Sorry everyone. I have no excuse.

First off, if you have cats and live near a Publix, Meow Mix (the 3-pound size) is buy one, get one free. Plus, they had the bags that have 20-percent more food! I might not have to buy dry food for Daphne for a year! Okay, maybe just a few months, but still, good sale. As you can see, Daphne was thrilled.

Moving on!

I was talking to my friend Paige, who is one of my gurus of all things food, and she asked if she had ever sent me the recipe for something called Chicken Bonne Femme. It's a chicken dish served at a restaurant called Galatoire's in New Orleans. I said, "no.. tell me about it."
"Well," she said, "it has bacon."
"Sounds good," I said quickly. Because, as we all know, anything with bacon has to be awesome.

I hit the store with my list, and came home ready to create the rumored fabulousness of Chicken Bonne Femme. Which really means Good Girl Chicken. Stop snickering. Quite a bit of prep, chopping veggies thinly. First are two onions. I like to use Spanish onions, but apparently they are illegal here, because they are hardly every available at the Publix. White onions it is.

Then two large potatoes. You have to peel them first. That's my fancy KitchenAide peeler. It pivots. Thanks Jenny!!!

And now for the best part!!!! Plus, it was on sale!!! It was a sign!

Hey, wait. That isn't bacon! Anyway, the ABC Liquor Store man, after offering up a sample of a lovely French sparkling wine, recommended this Chardonnay. And it was on sale. Plus I had earned a coupon. I have a frequent drinker card there. I know, you're all shocked. The verdict: Quite tasty. Sharp, but with a smooth caramel finish. Props to the ABC Liquor Store man.

Okay, now HERE is the important part. Also on sale! Isn't it beautiful!?!?

The recipe calls for half a pound of bacon. If you listen closely, I think Paula Deen just squealed. I figured the easiest way to measure a half pound was not to measure at all.

And now I have breakfast for tomorrow! And block of sharp red KitchenAide knives. They look nice and, God forbid, in case of a break-in, I don't need a permit to use them.

(As you can see from all of blogs and pictures, I like red things in my kitchen. My dream used to be a bright red KitchenAide mixer. It would look so pretty on my counter. But, unfortunately that is probably all it would do. I am not much of a baker. I would love some really fabulous pots and pans though, Santa. Maybe an apron or two...)

Now for the chicken part of Good Girl Chicken (stop snickering!). A whole fryer, chopped into 8 pieces. Just season with salt and pepper and pop it in at 400 for 30 minutes. Turn it after 15 minutes. (That means flip it over, not rotate it clockwise.)

Back to BACON! I can bring it home, and fry it up in a pan.

After I took the bacon out, I slid in a couple tablespoons of butter (SQUEAL goes Paula Deen) and the onions and stirred them around until the onions were soft.

Speaking of frying, I had to deep fry the potatoes. Again, there goes Paula Deen squealing. I've never deep fried anything. Honestly. So I was a bit nervous. I used vegetable oil in my skillet, and fried them in a couple batches. Now, I've complained a lot about how much I hate cooking on an electric stove. Well, if I had been cooking with gas tonight... this would have probably caused a huge grease fire. WOW. That oil will splatter and splash when you drop those potatoes in. Thankfully, I had my wok top to cover it up!

Fry them until they are golden brown(ish) and then take them out. I put them in another glass pan lined with some paper towels. Meanwhile, mix the bacon in with the onions and a tablespoon of minced garlic. I used the minced garlic in a jar. It's easy.

Then, you mix the onion mix with the potatoes, and pour it over chicken. Pop the chicken back in for about 10 more minutes, and POW!!! Good Girl Chicken (stop snickering!).

I served it up with some steamed haricot verts. Yum!!! It was really tasty. How could it not be? It's got bacon!!! But the chicken itself was really juicy and flavorful, just by seasoning with salt and pepper and baking it!

And then I had to clean up, which involved bleach spray, a sponge, a mop and a load of laundry. Totally worth it.

Although, it should be called Bad Girl Chicken!! I will definitely be hitting the treadmill tomorrow. Again, totally worth it!

The "Thank you Bacon, Sincerely Water Chestnut III" Playlist (It's long. There was cleaning involved)

When Love Came to Town U2 and BB King (I LOVE YOU BONO!!!!!)
Let's Go Crazy Prince & the Revolution (And yes Dickie, Prince is a musical genius!)
The End of the Innocence Don Henley ("Lawyers dwell on small details since daddy had to fly.")
Love Bites Def Leppard ("Do you tell lies, and say that it's forever")
Computer Blue Prince & the Revolution (Another from Purple Rain, for which he won the Oscar for Best Original Song Score. Musical genius!!!!)
Dirty Great Monster Duran Duran
New Age Girl Dead Eye Dick ("Don't eat meat, but she sure like the bone")
Tiny Daggers INXS (Gone to soon!!!!)
Jerk Out Morris Day and the TIME!!! (The BEST surprise opening act EVER, right Paige???)
Don't Ask Me Why The Eurythmics ("I don't love you anymore. I don't think I ever did.")
Mr. Jones Counting Crows ("Everybody wants to pass as cats.")
Your Love The Outfield ("Josie's on a vacation far away...")
Your English is Good Tokyo Police Club (THANKS TIMMER!!!)
Here Today Paul McCartney (A beautiful song, written in memory of John)
Hammering In My Head Garbage ("I knew you were mine for the taking when I walked in the room.")
Stuck on You Elvis ("Look at Elvis, he sold his soul and you crowned him king.")
Humor of the Situation Barenaked Ladies
Special Garbage
Read my Mind The Killers
Big Shot Billy Joel ("You had to prove it to the crowd.")
Congratulations Blue October ("I came to see the light in my best friend..")
Jump Around House of Pain ("Pack it up, pack it in, let me begin...")
Hold on my Heart Genesis (Interesting segue, but love this song.)
Can't Help Falling in Love With You Elvis (only fools rush in....)
Sign Your Name Terrence Trent D'Arby (And no, jackass, your album WAS NOT better than Sgt. Pepper.)
My Life has been Saved Queen (Sadly, it wasn't. But he'll live forever through his awesome music. I know that sounds lame, but it's true. Freddie will always be fabulous!)
Sexy M.F Prince ("Come here baby.. yeah... you sexy mother fucker.")
I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man as sung by Jordan Knight, the dreamiest of all the New Kids on the Block
Wake Up Alanis Morissette ("There's no fundamental excuse for the granted I'm taken for.")
The Headmaster Ritual The Smiths (This song reminds a very good friend of mine of the powers that be at his job.)
Home Again Vonda Shepard (Maybe for my birthday!!!!)
Do You Really Want to Hurt Me? Culture Club
Captain Jack Billy Joel ("Just a little push, and you'll be smiling.")

Doing it for the "girls"

2009-10-20T22:22:00.009-04:00

As you probably know from the explosion of pink everywhere, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Coincidentally, it also happens to be time for my 6-month mammogram/ultrasound combo that started a year ago, when my new doctor in Florida "made" me go get a baseline mammogram. I was nervous, but figured I'd just get it over with, and that would be the end of it for a few years.

They called me the next day to come back in to double check the left side and do an ultrasound. Naturally, I freaked out. It turned out to be nothing. Well, dense tissue. But they wanted me to come back in six months. So I went back in April for a replay. Again, I got the all clear, but come back in six months.

And that meant today was the day. So I dragged my stuffy sinuses and sore throat over to the Breast Center. Yippie!!!

OK, as a preface, two days ago, the registration office called to pre-fill out my paperwork. Cool. But then when I got the call to remind me of the appointment, I was told to go to admitting. To fill out my paperwork. Um, I did that. Over the phone...
You need to sign it all.
Oh. OK.
Admitting. The ladies there are charming. Yes. I am being sarcastic.

Up at the Breast Center at last, I am given...paperwork to fill out. Sigh. As I am filling it out, the receptionist brings me a printed out sheet of things I just need to double check to make sure they are right. Huh... the printout from when I filled the paperwork out over the phone. And the information that is on it is the exact information I was just filling out...I guess they think we need "busy" work to keep our minds off of what's going to happen.

So after I am given my ever-so-attractive and comfortable robe to wear (it opens in the front), I am waiting. And waiting. Oh, a magazine. House Beautiful. From 2004. I start opening drawers and cabinets. I'm a curious person. Oh, a fake boob attached to a white piece of plastic... Ooops... not attached, as said boob flops under the chair...

My turn! YAY! The tech is... brusk. And I can't really understand what she is saying. Because she mumbles. And has cold hands. I won't go into detail, but it's weird to see your boobs flattened and twisted in such a fashion.

Off to the waiting room. It's cold. So cold they keep offering blankets. Oh good, more magazines. Some early winter 2008 issues of Town and Country, More from March and, oh sweet, a Domino. From 2006. Oh good, I can finish reading that article I was reading in it six months ago. You think I'm kidding. And I'm waiting. And waiting. And it's cold.

Pat the ultrasound tech comes to get me. I think her name was Pat. Maybe it was Joyce. But she looked like Pat the UPS delivery lady from Will & Grace. She smokes. Not while she was doing my ultrasound, but every other time. I could smell it through my Tylenol Sinus med haze. She tells a joke about her brother in town, and finds nothing of note. But sends me back to the waiting room.

Mumbles pokes her head in and says they need another mammogram view. Huh? OK... this one was even less pleasant. Back to the waiting room. Waiting... Mumbles is back. Now they want two "twist" views. It is what is sounds like. And the least "pleasant" of all of them. At one point, she asked me to tilt my chin up. I told her if I tilted it up anymore, my boob would rip off.

She has no idea what they are looking for. She keeps pointing at a white shadow, I would call it, saying it must be what they are looking at. Well, what the fuck do they think it might be lady, because you're all freaking me out!?!?!? (I said in my head.)

Back to the waiting room. I am offered a blanket. Again. Pat's back. The doctor wants to see another ultrasound. There really is no modesty in any of this, if you can't tell that already, but having two people stand over me running an ultrasound wand across my chest, pointing at the screen saying "there... no... there, wait.. no...it's right there, but no... it's nothing, it just blends in...," almost made me lose my shit. DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE LOOKING FOR??!?! I wanted to scream!!!

And then, "OK, nothing there. You're good to go."

"Well it wasn't for a lack of looking," I said. So... nothing.. Nope. Nothing. Here's your free tote bag for playing our game!

Anti-climatic, I know. But I'm in the clear for at least another six months.

But, it's important to check yourself every month! See your doctor!! Save the tatas!!!!

Peter Brady would approve

2009-10-16T21:07:00.026-04:00

YAY! It's Friday! And I have no food, so it's off to Publix (sigh) to get the fixings for Pork Chops with Apples and Shallots. Which, naturally, is two apples (Granny Smith) and shallots (1/2 pound).

The apples have to be peeled and cored. I tried to peel them in one long strip. This was as long as they got.

Not great, I know. And cutting them into 8ths and coring them too... It took me three different knives. I'm "special" that way. But I still have all my digits, so yay me! Martha says to soak the apple slices in water with the juice of a lemon to keep them from browning. I don't have a lemon. I have limes. But those are for voddy tonics. I just filled the bowl with water, and it was fine. It wasn't like they were going to be sitting out for an hour before I used them. (P.S. Turn on the broiler and move the rack up to the top rung.)

I melted 2 tablespoons of butter in a pan and tossed in the shallots until they are browned, then cover them and cook for five more minutes, until they are soft.

Then you add in the apples (pour the water out first) and 1/2 cup of white wine. Wine? Yes please, don't mind if I do. Cover, and cook for 5 minutes. Pork chop time!!! Just season them on both sides with salt and pepper, and pop them in the oven for 5 minutes on each side. And again, aren't my salt and pepper shakers adorable?!?! Anthropologie. Love that store.

Uncover the apple mix and stir, cook until most of the liquid is evaporated. Yum!!!

Take it off the heat, and cover it. Green veggie time. I melted 2 tablespoons of butter in a sauce pan (More butter! I feel like Paula Deen!), and toss in a bag of spinach. Cover and let wilt.

And I get to use my nutmeg from Grenada to season the spinach.

So here it is, all plated up. just scoop the apples and shallots on top of the pork chop.

Pork chops and an apple sauce. That's swell. (And my kitchen looks like a bomb of dirty dishes went off in it. Not swell. I might have to mop!)

Kind of a mellow playlist for a mellow Friday
The Entertainer Billy Joel
Warwick Avenue Duffy (I heart her voice)
Starry Eyes The Records
Get Together Madonna
Circle Sarah McLachlan
Don't Know Why Norah Jones ("My heart is drenched in wine." You gotta love a lyric like that.)
Mary Sarah McLachlan
Superman REM
Two of Us Aimee Mann and Michael Penn (Pretty decent cover of The Beatles tune.)
Most of All Jody Watley
Hold On Sarah McLachlan (Seriously? Come on, enough already!)
Material Girl Madonna (Much better!)
A Different Corner George Michael (I love my boy, George.)
Always in Love Graham Colton
An Easier Affair George Michael ("Here comes one for the ladies, for the ones who love me." Like me!!!! I love you George!!!!)
Sleep Alone The Wonder Stuff (I still sit at home, twitching my fingers, playing the songs of my favorite singers.)
Don't Let Him Steal Your Heart Away Phil Collins
Heartlight Neil Diamond (I don't trust people who say they don't like Neil Diamond, because they are fucking liars. EVERYONE likes Neil Diamond!)
Voices of Babylon The Outfield
The Wrong Man was Convicted Barenaked Ladies (Who's lonely now, which one of us is suffering.)
Love on the Rocks Neil Diamond (SING IT, NEIL!!!!!! Just pour me a drink and I'll tell you my lies!)
Let's Talk About Sex Salt N Pepa (Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be!)
Golden Slumbers Ben Folds (An "eh" cover of The Beatles tune)
Stay Wendy & Lisa (A long time ago, I saw your face. I fell in love, a fatal mistake.)
Sacrifice Elton John
Some Kind of Lover Jody Watley
I Don't Want Your Love Duran Duran (Well I want yours Simon!!! Yours too, John.)
White Flag Dido (sigh)
Don't You Want Me Jody Watley
Awful Hole

Here Comes the Sun. Crap.

2009-10-13T20:35:00.034-04:00

Everyone says I'm nuts, but the endless sunshine and hot weather and humidity are having the same effect on me that days of rain have on other people. Seriously. Keenan the creepy weather man was all excited that it's going to be 90 and sunny for the rest of the week, and I almost cried.

And I figured out why. This summer has, pretty much, for a lot of different reasons, sucked. And I just want it to be over. Don't get me wrong, there were awesome times, like when I got to party with my girls in Atlanta. And I do have a job that I love, working for an editor who is beyond fabulous (I'm not saying that to suck up. She totally rocks the kasbah!). But, my friends know what I am talking about here. The calendar says October, but the sun, heat and humidity says the summer still goes on.

(As an aside, I don't count last weekend at my high school reunion as the summer, because that was a total blast, and it was most definitely FALL!!!! It was so great to see all of you, and I hope it doesn't take 10 more years to see you again!)

I need a spark, or something. I can't change the world in a night, but I can make a great dinner. I find cooking relaxing, so I chose a recipe that is one of my favorites, Shrimp Mosca, which I got from Paige. As you can see, it's a well-loved and used recipe, covered in stains and it even has a knife slice through it... not sure how that happened.

It is soooo good. The sauce it makes... oh boy... OK, You start with a cupboard full of spices. Well, OK, just this many (plus olive oil and really dry white wine).

And, of course, shrimp. The recipe calls for 2 pounds of unpeeled shrimp. I'm just one person, so I only get 1 pound. And I like to eat it with a fork, so I peel them. That just means there's more sauce and it's neater to eat them.

So here are the spices in the pan with 1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil. I use the jarred garlic, because the recipe calls for 6 cloves of garlic, diced. That translates to 3 teaspoons of the jarred kind. I heap those teaspoons, because there is never such a thing as too much garlic when you're making a Mosca (Am I right, Paige??). It's also 1 teaspoon each of red pepper, crushed black pepper, rosemary and oregano. It calls for 1 tablespoon of salt, but I usually just do a sprinkle or two. Plus two whole bay leaves. The store-bought bay leaves are so tiny, I use four.

OK, when this starts heating up, the aroma... oh I can't even describe how awesome it is, with the garlic and the rosemary...sigh...OK, so add in the shrimp and stir them around to coat them with all the yumminess.

When they get cooking good, then you add in more yumminess in the form of 1/4 cup of dry white wine (and the cook gets a bit herself, of course!). And then you cook it all together until the shrimps are done.

And that is it. It's actually really easy, and takes not a lot of time! It's so worth the time it takes to peel all those shrimps! Put some in a bowl with lots of sauce!

A necessity, as you can see here, is a generous chunk of crusty French bread. This is how you get all that delicious sauce into your pie hole. It has to be crusty French bread. I forgot to buy bread once, and used an English muffin. While it served the purpose, it was WRONG!!!!! Crusty. French. Bread. I promise you, the sauce is that good. One bite of it, and every bad thought left my head, and I couldn't help but smile and sigh. I actually had to go back and break off a little more bread, because you don't want any of that spicy goodness to go to waste. Make this. I promise, you will wipe that plate so clean, you could almost put it back in the cupboard.

But don't. That would be gross.

And tonight's dinner was brought to you by "The I totally (accidentally) stole those batteries" playlist
Run for your Life The Beatles (Yes Mark, I listen to a lot of The Beatles.)
She's a Star James (So frightened that he won't lover her, she builds up a wall)
Genie in a Bottle Christina Aguilera
Shameless Billy Joel (This really is a beautiful song)
Caught in my Shadow The Wonder Stuff
Englishman in New York Sting (It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile. Be yourself, no matter what they say.)
Friend of the Devil Counting Crows
New Years Resolution Graham Colton (Here's to the ones you never forget. Here's to the year that we had)
Victim of Love The Eagles (it's such an easy part, and you know how to play it so well.)
Fallen Sarah McLachlan
I Want Your Sex George Michael (There's things that you guess, and things that you know...)
Stuck on You Elvis Presley (Yep. The King. Full of surprises people. Keep up.)
This is the Time Billy Joel (Another sad, beautiful one)
One Week Barenaked Ladies (Like Harrison Ford I'm getting frantic, like Sting I'm tantric, like Snicker's guaranteed to satisfy.)
Paisley Park Prince & the Revolution (The girl on the seasaw is laughing 4 love is the color this place imparts)
Eyes Without a Face Billy Idol
Human Human League
Head Over Feet Alanis Morissette
Love is the Seventh Wave Sting (In the empire of the senses, you're the queen of all you survey.)

Needs cheese. Definitely some cheese.

2009-09-15T21:09:00.053-04:00

As you know, I have been working through my Martha cookbook. I was trying to do all of the Summer recipes. But, even though it's 90 here in South Florida, and I wore sandals today (to show off my new pedicure. OPI's Royal Rajah Ruby, thank you very much!), I have decided that it's now Fall. Summer had too many grilling recipes anyway, and in apartment land, grills are verboten. I know the proper use of them, but who knows what the jackasses upstairs would do with a hot charcoal grill when they were done cooking.

September! Back to school! FOOTBALL!!!!! GO STEELERS!!

What challenges does Martha have in store for the Fall? Some lamb, which I don't eat, and lots of lentils, which I am wary of due to this lentil "salad" we used to have at Thanksgiving, until everyone finally admitted they didn't really like it in the first place (I never ate it, so if I'm wrong about why you guys don't make it anymore, Jan, Kathy, Sharon... please correct me!).

So no lamb. No lentils. Just chicken. And mushrooms. And polenta—Braised Chicken with Mushrooms and Oven-baked Polenta, to be precise.

You have to make the polenta and the chicken pretty much at the same time, so, being the queen of prep work that I am (thank you, Chris!!! XXOXOXOXOO), I did the chicken fixings before doing the polenta. Here is the mushroom part. One pound of mushrooms, wiped with a damp paper towel to clean them off, then sliced.

Then four garlic cloves, sliced in half (I assumed lengthwise), and 2 tbsp. of chopped fresh parsley. I got the curly kind, because Martha is amazingly non-specific. And chicken broth, at the ready for the chicken.

On to polenta. Because it's Martha, we don't use already made polenta. So here I go. From scratch. I whisked corn meal with water, salt and pepper.

Then bake it, covered, for 30 minutes at 425. Of course, my covered glass baking dish is still in Atlanta, where I hope Jenny is enjoying it. So I improvised with foil.

I sliced my chicken breasts in half to make cutlets, although, to be helpful, Martha could just say 8 chicken CUTLETS in the ingredients list. But, that would be too easy. So to fuck with us (Sorry, Dickie. Just the one f-bomb. I promise.) she says 4 boneless chicken breast halves. And then in the recipe, she refers to them as cutlets....confusing, but I cut them in half, lengthwise. If I'm wrong, Whatever, Martha! Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

I fired up my skillet with some olive oil and put the chicken in, a couple minutes on each side, then took them out.

That is NOT the same plate the raw chicken was on. I am not my father. I love him, but if you don't snap a "raw chicken plate" out of his hand after he puts stuff on the grill, he'll put the cooked food right back on it. I have a full set of that Corelle that I've had since college. It does not break. Believe me, I've tried. Actually, I lie. One of the bowls broke, and it didn't just break. It EXPLODED!

Back to dinner!!! Another tablespoon of olive oil into the skillet, and then in goes the garlic and the mushrooms. Stir it up, then cover to get some liquid out of the mushrooms. Uncover and stir. When the mushrooms are golden, you can add 1/2 cup of dry white wine. This is apparently "optional." Martha doesn't know me well. Wine is not "optional." That's like her tip about putting "leftover" wine into an ice cube tray to freeze for soups. I am still trying to figure out what "leftover" wine is.... Dry white wine. A bit for the mushrooms, and a bit for the chef.

Cook that down for about a minute or so, then add the chicken broth and the parsley. Cook that for 8-10 minutes. Then add the chicken back, lower the heat to a simmer and cover, 10-12 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through.

BEEP goes the oven! Polenta!!! This is what it looks like when it comes out:

And this is what it looks like after you whisk in 1/4 cup of milk, 2 Tbsp. of butter and 1/4 tsp. marjoram. Not much different:

Huh. And the taste... huh... kind of... huh.... I scoop some out on a plate, and top it with a piece of chicken, and some of the mushrooms and sauce, along with some steamed asparagus (you need a green vegetable).

Better with the sauce, but the polenta is still kind of... blah. I am sure some variety of cheese would give it that something it's missing. Any suggestions??

The "All the Cheese You Need, and Then Some" playlist:
Fancy Yeah Yeah Yeahs (awesome start, this band is in heavy rotation in the Civic)
Another Spin Barenaked Ladies (I had time to kill, one day in Alaska. I walked around until I found the arts & crafts shop.)
Cupid's Got a Brand New Gun Michael Penn (It slithers like a viper and readies its attack)
Be Still My Beating Heart Sting (LOVE STING!!! I sink like a stone that's been thrown in the ocean My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion)
The Freshman The Verve Pipe (She a punk who rarely ever took advice)
You Are What You Are (Beautiful) Christina Aguilera
The State I'm In Louie Louie (Dig into your pop culture pit to figure out who this is. And I am still not embarrassed of anything on my iPod.)
Magic Carpet Ride Steppenwolf (oh yeah)
I Still Believe Brenda K. Starr (I told you there would be cheese.)
Fascination Street The Cure
One of Us ABBA
Closer to Me The Outfield
Last Dance Donna Summer (So let's dance the last dance toniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!)
One More Chance Madonna
Red Bike Wendy & Lisa
Summer Rain Belinda Carlisle
What I am Edie Brickell and New Bohemians (Religion is a smile on a dog)
Planet Earth Duran Duran (I LOVE YOU SIMON!)
I Was Born TO Love You Queen
The Sound of Silence Simon & Garfunkel (such a beautiful song)
Vacation The Go-Gos (Can't seem to get my mind off of you...)
Hold Me Menudo (oh yeah. Menudo. When Ricky Martin was like 11. Cheese!!!!)
Homeward Bound Simon & Garfunkel (I will be, in 2 weeks!!! Bingo-town here I come!)
She Will be Loved Maroon 5
Hammer to Fall Queen (I love me some Freddie)
Dreaming Blondie (LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this song!!!)
Fast Love George Michael (Stupid cupid keeps on calling, But I see nothing in his eyes)
Sunshine Paul Westerberg (He can't even run his own life, I'll be damned if he'll run mine.)

And because I love this song, here is Blondie singing it live in 2008!

Soup's ON!

2009-09-07T17:31:00.034-04:00

Labor Day weekend! Yay! Growing up, that always meant everyone would come to our house, and a batch of clam chowder would be whipped up. Well, not whipped up. It takes a lot of work. And a lot of knives and cutting boards if you're making a full batch for a large group.

I am ambitious, but not THAT ambitious. I just made a half batch. It still involves A LOT of chopping (onions, green peppers and celery) and dicing (potatoes and carrots). But, as I have said before, I like the zen of chopping and listening to music. It's soothing for me.

Wake me when it's over!

So, this is my Grandpa Jack's recipe. We've been making it for so long, it's like second nature. I don't even need to look at the recipe as I go. He started out with salt pork to get some fat going in the bottom of the pan. I start with a little olive oil, and then toss the onions and peppers into my big red Le Creuset pot!

Aside from the veggies, here are the other ingredients: tomato juice, clam juice, chopped clams (I cheat and used canned. Like I said, again, I am ambitious, but not that ambitious), stewed tomatoes, caraway seeds and thyme. Hot sauce too, but that's still in the refrigerator.

Back to the onions and peppers... looking good...

So now, we add the clam juice (five bottles!):

Thrilling and fascinating. I know. Now, with the stewed tomatoes, they come out looking like this:

Way too big. So get out your kitchen sheers and give them some snips!

When the clam juice gets warm, add in the tomatoes and half the bottle of tomato juice. Heat that up. When it gets warm, add in the diced carrots and potatoes and the chopped celery and clams (drained, but not squeezed dry. I kind of just drain them a bit, but keep some of the juice in them). Add in the spices, too. It's pretty much to taste. I know what it's supposed to taste like, so I can add the caraway seeds and thyme until it's right. Add the hot sauce a few dashes at a time. I use Texas Pete, but whatever your favorite is works just fine.

Now you just keep it on low (right below a simmer) for a couple hours, until the carrots, celery and potatoes are done. Halfway through, you add in the "secret" ingredient. Family lore goes, an extra beer was opened once while the soup was cooking. Rather than waste it, it was poured into the soup. I don't know if it makes a difference in the flavor, but I can say that half a bottle (it is a half batch, after all) of the Frankenstein beer worked just fine.

When all the veggies are tender, get a bowl out and add a couple more dashes of Texas Pete to your serving! Enjoy!!!

LEFTOVERS!!!! And not just the soup, which tastes even better the next day. Leftover veggies. Leftover (extra) potatoes, celery and onion becomes potato salad:

And what to do with the extra tomato juice... hmm.... well, I guess, if you are so inclined, you can mix it with some more Texas Pete, celery salt, lime juice and Worcestershire sauce, oh and some vodka, to make a tasty Bloody Mary! (You can use an extra celery stick to stir, and to scoop out the olives as they get closer to the bottom of the glass.)

The you would think, with 2,127 songs on here, I'd get more of a variety playlist:
Tangled Maroon 5
Why Say Anything Nice? Barenaked Ladies (if you don't, come sit by me...)
I Remember Holding You Boys Club (fine '80s cheese)
Carry That Weight Paul McCartney (LIVE. The tour I saw in ATL with Kara and her parents. AWESOME show.)
You Belong to Me Patsy Cline (Who doesn't love Patsy??)
Mamma Mia ABBA (Here I go again...)
Don't Stop Believing Fucking Journey
End The Cure
99 Red Balloons Nena (I also have 99 Luft Balloons on here.)
Barbie Girl Aqua (Life in plastic, it's fantastic)
Hot Thing Prince
Blackbird Sarah McLaughlin (A Beatles cover, which I am usually against, but she does a really good job.)
Easy Silence Dixie Chicks (In the peaceful quiet you create for me, and the way you keep the world at bay for me.)
World on Fire Sarah McLaughlin (When I interviewed Art Garfunkel, he tipped his hat to Sarah's amazing talent.)
(Keep Feeling) Fascination Human League
Electric Blue Icehouse (Are you hiding somewhere behind those eyes)
Kiss the Bride Elton John (He did once. Kiss his bride. Denial, sometimes, is more than a river in Egypt.)
Walk On U2 (Love is not the easy thing, and the only baggage you can bring is all that you can't leave behind.) (I LOVE YOU BONO!)
Flowers in December Mazzy Star
Red Carpet Massacre Duran Duran
What Does Sex Mean to Me? Human Sexual Response (From the Threesome soundtrack)
Black & White Sarah McLaughlin
Nowhere Fast Fire Inc. (I think this is the song Diane Lane is "singing" when Willam Dafoe kidnaps her in Streets of Fire)
Something About the Way You Look Tonight Elton John
Beast of Burden Rolling Stones
Ruby Tuesday This was on a mix a friend made. I don't know who sings it, but it's not the Stones.
Sink or Swim Bad Lieutenant (A friend turned me on to this song a few weeks ago, and I love it! The lyrics are great, as is the music)
Something to Remember Madonna
Invincible Pat Benatar (Legend of Billie Jean!!!)
Stop Jamelia
Uncle John's Band Grateful Dead (Yeah. I know. I don't know how that got in there either.....)
I'm Still Standing Elton John

Cheese? Yes please.

2009-08-31T20:57:00.033-04:00

So I decided to get a little fancy, and discovered fancy does not necessarily mean hard to do. Spinach and Brie Chicken with Tomato Orzo was super quick and easy, once you defrost the spinach. Yummm... a spinach Popsicle.

I was honestly surprised Martha uses frozen spinach. It's so very Rachel or Sandra. I am almost proud. So when it's defrosted, you squeeze the liquid out and set aside. The spinach, not the liquid. The liquid you just pour out.

You know what else makes me proud? Cheese. I love cheese. This, obviously, calls for 4 ounces of brie.

Yes, it says 4.35 ounces. It's cheese. You can never have too much of it.

So, the recipe calls for 8 thin chicken cutlets, or 1 1/2 pounds. Well, my 1 1/2 pounds yielded just 5 cutlets. I've already sliced the cheese into seven pieces. Yum! Extras!!!

OK, so on a cookie sheet lined with foil, lay out the cutlets, and spread Dijon mustard on one side. (Safety tip: I used kitchen tongs to transfer the rinsed chicken cutlets from a plate to the cookie sheet, to keep my hands chicken free so I could handle all the other things I needed to to prepare these. And to take pictures.)

Then you top it with some spinach.

And then CHEESE!

Now comes the fun part! After you salt and pepper them, you roll the cutlet up with all that goodness inside, and place it on the cookie sheet with the seam side down.

You put them in under the broiler (move the rack up to 4 inches from the coil) for 8-10 minutes. I split the difference and timed it for 9 minutes.

Meanwhile, I boiled a cup of orzo, chopped up two plum tomatoes, 1/4 cup of chopped parsley and a tablespoon of fresh lemon juice. Or RealLemon. I don't judge.

When the orzo was done, I drained it and while it was still in the pan, I dropped in a tablespoon of unsalted butter and added the tomato mixture, stirring it all together.

Just in time, because the oven timer went off as I was stirring. Looks done.... (I cut into one, just to be sure. Yep. DONE!)

I must admit, I am not a fan of Dijon mustard. I am a French's Yellow kind of girl. I have tried it on a sandwich, and it's just not my thing. BUT, I don't know what it is about mixing it with other things that makes the flavors so good!! The mustard with the brie... in a word YUM! Just YUM!

And P.S. get some Carr's water crackers and some red pepper jelly. Spread brie on a cracker and top with a dollop of the jelly. Dee-LISH!!! (Chris turned me on to that. It's yummy.)

Here is the Simple, yet Still Fancy playlist.
Kindly Unspoken Kate Voegal (Actions speak louder than words)
Be With You The Bangles
This City Never Sleeps Eurythmics (From the 9 1/2 Weeks soundtrack. It's not really a naughty song, but when it plays in the movie, naughty things happen)
Trailways Josh Joplin Group
When Tomorrow Comes Eurythmics
Wild Thing Tone Loc (Let's do it....)
The Downeaster Alexa Billy Joel (I have charted a course for the Vineyard, but tonight I am Nantucket bound.. Godspeed Teddy. (That's not part of the song, but that lyric is perfect for him.))
World on Fire Sarah McLaughlin (Hearts are worn in these dark ages. You're not alone in this story's pages)
Adia Sarah McLaughlin
Brian Wilson Barenaked Ladies (And if you wanna find me, I'll be out in the sandbox)
New Position Prince and the Revolution
If I Told You That Whitney Houston (On my Twenty-Five George Michael DVD, this is on there as a duet between the diva and my boy, George.)
Trust The Cure (I love you more than I can say. Why won't you just believe?)
Runaground James (LOVE James. Oh no, she's gone. Back to wherever she came from. You watch her her go. Your reactions far too slow.)
Like to Get to Know you Well Howard Jones
It's Going to Take Some Time This Time The Carpenters (Yes, the Carpenters. I love them. Deal with it.)
New Sensation INXS (Gone too soon!)
I Want Love Elton John (I want a love that don't mean a thing, that's the love I want.)
The Freshmen The Verve Pipe (We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip)
Thank you for the Venom My Chemical Romance (I love when this song comes on the shuffle when I am on the treadmill.)
When you Were Young The Killers
This Woman's Work Kate Bush (Ironically, this came on as I started to wipe of the counters.)
This is No Ordinary Love Sade (You said a mouthful there, sister.)
Honky Tonk Woman (Cuz I just can't seem to drink you off my mind.)

Snap, Crackle, Pop Life

2009-08-21T21:41:00.035-04:00

It started with an email. I was planning to attend my friend Trisha and her husband Ted's annual Yankees/Red Sox party. I had asked what to bring. And then I got this:
"What do you think about making Rice Krispies Treats for the party."
My response was quick. "I think I've never made them in my life," I said. But I agreed to do it. Two batches (it's a big party!).

I got some funny looks when I told people what I was making, and that I'd never made them before. "Didn't you ever help your mom make them?" someone asked.

No.

As I have stated before, Jan doesn't like to cook. So you can imagine how high baking is on her list. (Although she did make yummy Christmas cookies and the occasional apple pie) But I guess Rice Krispies Treats don't really count as baking. Or cooking for that matter. It's pretty much just melting and stirring.

I am getting ahead of myself. I picked up a box of RK's at Publix, and studied it. Well, not so much studied it as searched for the recipe. No where. Now, you pick up a box of Knorr Vegetable Soup mix, POW, right there on the back of the box is the recipe for Spinach Dip. In fact, when people ask me for the recipe for my spinach dip, I tell them to get a box of Knorr Vegetable Soup mix and turn it over. You pick up a bag of Toll House Morsels. POW. Chocolate chip cookie recipe. That can of crispy onions? POW! Green Bean Casserole recipe right there. I flipped that stupid box of cereal around like Rain Man trying to find a recipe. Don't tell me I am going to have to go home and look this shit up!!! And then, I spot something...

Can you see it? No? Let me get closer....

Oh there it is. A SHOPPING LIST for what you need to make these magical treats. Why is the recipe just not ON the box?? Is it that fucking special? What are these elves (or whatever the fuck they are) trying to hide?!?!?! Well whatever it is, it calls for margarine. Huh??? Really?? After some discussion, I was assured that butter would be a fine substitute. You know I only use butter to cook with! 10 ounces of marshmallows and six cups of Krispies. Super. I grab the big box, as I am making two batches, and two bags of mini marshmallows. I get some other stuff and head home.

I'm still wondering in my head why the hell the recipe isn't on the box. Why wouldn't they put it SON OF A BITCH! I forgot butter. I really am so lucky that Publix is literally across the parking lot, and no thank you I do not need a bag...

Oh what luck. The recipe IS on the box...

See? There it is. ON THE INSIDE. Most helpful. Sigh.

OK. Ready to light this baby!!!! So now I get to see how these things are made. With 10 ounces of marshmallows. Big marshmallows. OR 4 cups of little ones. I, of course, had just grabbed two 10-ounce bags of mini marshmallows. You know what a plus is to putting the actual recipe on the OUTSIDE of the box is??? People can figure out what and how fucking much they are supposed to buy! Although it also says here that diet, reduced calorie or tub margarine is not recommended. And yet on the "shopping list" on the outside of the box, it says "MARGARINE," with no specifications.... Kellogg's really needs to rethink their box layout...OK, I'm done complaining. Maybe...

Three tablespoons of unsalted butter on low heat! ROCK ON!

Four cups of mini marshmallows!!! Stir as they melt... looking... good?

Then it's off the heat, and six cups of RK's into the pot. Stir until a mess.

You could here them snapping and popping. Like the screams of tiny little puffed rice lobsters getting thrown into a pot of molten marshmallow. OK, when it's fully a mess, and they've stopped the popping, you spread it out in a sprayed pan. It's better to spray the spatula, too. Although, as you can imagine, it's a sticky mess. There. That looks right.

Damn, I need a drink after that. I enjoy a delightfully crisp Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc and talk to Trisha about finishing one batch and other party plans.

And on to the second batch. This time, I added a teaspoon of vanilla and some dark chocolate chips. Special dark. So they are Special Treats.

Speaking of special treats, Trisha has whipped up a batch (well, TWO batches) of sangria. In the cooler. I told her, it's like an adult version of the whapatoola punch we used to drink in college. Out of a garbage can. Except this is made with wine and brandy, instead of Everclear, Kool-Aid and whatever was left in all the liquor bottles. BUT, one thing holds true. Don't eat too much of the fruit. That is really a lesson you only need to learn once. Well, maybe twice. Three times tops.

I had been listening to Prince in the car, and thought I would just do a shuffle of his royal awesome purpleness, so here goes!

Pop Life (Seriously!!! How ironic!)
Head (Ok, Prince is a bit risque. Part of why we love him.)
Dirty Mind (OK... I can't make Rice Krispies Treats, with cartoon characters, listening to this.)

CHANGE OF ARTIST
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a playlist of 80's pop gods, DURAN DURAN
(I LOVE YOU SIMON!!!!)

Wild Boys (This video was so cool!)
Serious (May be right. May be wrong. Doesn't have to be serious...)
The Reflex (I tell you somebody's fooling around with my chances on the danger line)
Dirty Great Monster
Skin Trade (Sometimes you wonder, and she laughs at your frustration)
New Moon on Monday (Duran Duran saves the town from the scary soldiers. Five days through the night!!!)
Lady Xanax (Can't be alone when the darkness falls. Got to make it to the party. Socialize. Break the ice.)
The Valley
Is There Something I Should Know? (You're about as easy as a nuclear war.)
Nite-Runner (You're nocturnal, only come out at night)
I Don't Want You Love (My obsessive fascination is in your imagination.)
Notorious (Lies come hard to disguise)
Come Undone (Who do you need, who do you love, when you come undone)
Perfect Day (It's such a perfect day. I'm glad I spent it with you.)
The Chauffeur (and the droning engine throbs in time with your beating heart.)(PS LOVE this song)
Tempted
Last Man Standing (Now an unexpected peace comes to the day, as the howling din of fighting dies away.)
Tricked Out (Instrumental. Play that synthesizer Nick!! I LOVE YOU NICK!!!!)
Make Me Smile (Come up and See Me) (It's just a test, a game for us to play, Win or lose, it's hard to smile. Resist, resist, it's from yourself you have to hide.)
Save a Prayer (And you wanted to dance, so I asked you to dance but fear is in your soul...)(This is one of my favorite Duran Duran songs. It's so beautiful and sad.)
Planet Earth (I only came outside to watch the night fall with the rain.)
Electric Barbarella (A little tip of the hat to where they got their name. Duran Duran is a character in the Jane Fonda cult classic Barbarella. He created a pleasure machine, and tries to kill her with it. She ends up breaking it, the dirty girl)
Red Carpet Massacre (Or, as I like to call it, watching the celebs arrive at awards shows!!!)
Last Day on Earth (Now what would you do if there was no tomorrow?)
Girls on Film (YES!!!! awesome, so totally 80s!!! Give me shudders with a whisper take me high Till I'm shooting a star!)

Oh, and here are my leftovers. I love the loose bag of RK's because I had to destroy the box to get to the recipe.

The good part... I got to cut into those laughing elves mocking faces.
There. NOW I am done.

Pardon my French

2009-08-08T00:28:00.031-04:00

I'm definitely seeing Julie & Julia this weekend (UPDATE: Saturday at 1:20), so I was feeling a little French. Again, Martha not so much with the French. This week I've been going through my torn out recipes to actually throw out stuff that, while I thought looked really good, once I read it again it was more like, that looks really hard and what in the world was I thinking. One that I did find was a recipe for Cooktop Cassoulet. I love a cassoulet. Here is me in France, waiting patiently for my cassoulet at lunch in Carcassonne.

Now cassoulet is usually a slow cooker meal. With duck. But this one, you make in a skillet. With chicken and sausage. Actually, looking over the recipe, it's similar to jambalaya. Except you use Northern beans instead of rice, and there are diced tomatoes in this, and no tomatoes in jambalaya. Also, I was able to find smoked sausage at Publix for this. They don't carry the Savoie's that I need for a jambalaya.

So I start to get all my ingredients out, hit the shuffle on the iPod, I have two small/medium onions (there were no large ones at Publix. Naturally), a green pepper, a couple garlic cloves, chicken broth, dried thyme, bay leaves. Bay leaves. Where the hell are my bay leaves... crap.

One quick trip through the parking lot to Publix later, I now have bay leaves. Although, when I went to Grenada, I brought back bay leaves as big as my whole hand. Now, I have to make due with these piddly things.

And why, may I ask, is there a shaker on the top of the bottle?? Seriously, I want to know...

What goes with French food? French wine. I am loving the Fat Bastard Shiraz. The name fits my mood today (not the fat part).

As I have said before, I am a messy cook. I spill, I splatter and generally worry about it later. BUT, I do want to save my clothes. I remembered I have pretty tea towels, so I tucked one around my waistband. Pow. Instant apron. And don't I look skinny??

OK, I love chopping. I just get in a zone. It's very therapeutic. Now, the onions and peppers are just chopped. So you can be as neat or as rough as you want. I did a pretty rough chop. That's how I roll. Sausage gets cut into 1/2 inch rounds, and I diced up three chicken breasts. Here we go. All prepped!

AND, this is one of my favorite kitchen tools, especially when dealing with raw meat and chicken.

Just like jambalaya, the sausage goes first to get all brown.

Then you take it out and put in the chicken.

Take that out when browned and put the veggies in the skillet, cooking them until they get a bit soft. Then add back in the meats, the can of undrained diced tomatoes and the spices (thyme, bay leaves and salt and pepper).

Cover and let simmer for 10 minutes. Then add in 1/4 cup chicken broth and two cans of undrained great Northern beans, cover and cook for 10 more minutes. I don't have a top for my skillet, so I have to use my wok lid.

Oh, it looks so pretty!

It's hearty, and definitely calls for being served in my fancy pasta bowls. In a word (well, two), and in honor of Julia, Bon appetit!

Again, pardon my French, but I'm just going to call this the "What the Fuck did I Ever do to you Steve Jobs" playlist.

Wonderful Tonight Eric Clapton (I do! Hair all pulled back, pants too big because I've lost weight!!)
The Trouble with Love Is Kelly Clarkson (The trouble is, it hurts like hell)
It Must be Him Vicki Carr (Now he'll play that damn Vicki Carr record, and when he comes to bed he won't touch me. Sigh.. —Olympia Dukakis in Moonstruck)
Grafton Street Dido
I Still Haven’t Found What I'm Looking For U2 (I hear you Bono. And I LOVE YOU! Plus I love the end of this video, on the streets of Vegas, where the equally hot Larry Mullen Jr. just says "fuck it" and climbs into a cab for parts unknown.)
Wild Horses Rolling Stones (I prefer The Sundays version, actually)
Nothing Lasts Forever Maroon 5 (I built a wall around my heart, never let it fall apart, strangely I wish secretly it would fall down while I'm asleep)
Everything Zen Bush (Gavin is HOT)
You Tell Me Paul McCartney (maybe we'll run into each other at the airport!)
Father Figure George Michael (My favorite GM song. The video... HOT)
Homeward Bound Simon & Garfunkel (Next weekend, I will be!)
Keep Breathing Ingrid Michaelson (I hear that's the trick)
Head over Heels Tears for Fears (I wanted to be with you alone.. and talk about the weather)
I Could Never Take the Place of your Man Jordan Knight (He's dreamy, but I of course prefer Prince's version.)
Groovy Kind of Love Phil Collins (SERIOUSLY?!?!??!)
Head Over Heels The Go-Go's (well played...)
Rainy Days and Mondays The Carpenters (And this is where I yelled out "Are you FUCKING kidding me!?!?!?!")
Scars Papa Roach (Much better. Same mood, but with bitterness and rock and roll)
This Woman’s Work Kate Bush (And, while I love this song, it's back into the pit)
New Years Day U2 (Again. I love you Bono)
Back at Your Door Maroon 5 (I give up)
Pump up the Volume MARRS (Every time we get makeup in from NARS, I always think.. MARRS.. Needs.. Women...)
Brand New Day Sting (God willing and the creek don't rise!)

Anything Martha can do, I can do differently

2009-07-26T20:23:00.040-04:00

But I have to. I don't have a grill. So, today I made Grilled Tuscan Chicken with Rosemary and Lemon. Except instead of grilling it, I baked it.

To start with the marinade, I chop up fresh rosemary and steeped it in boiling water for about 5 minutes.

Then you pour the rosemary and water into a blender (which I don't have, but I have a cup attachment on my immersion blender, so same/same) with 1/4 cup olive oil, some salt and pepper and a couple (okay, three) cloves of garlic. Puree until smooth.

It smells amazing!

Now this recipe calls for a whole chicken cut into pieces. I am a skinless, boneless chicken breast kind of gal. So, I was not looking forward to trying to cut up a raw chicken, not ever having done it before. God only knows the salmonella mess that would create... I settled on getting some legs. And I worked out twice this weekend. I deserved chicken with skin! And there it was! A whole chicken, all cut up already. Right there in the Poultry section of the Publix. Who knew?? (I know, I am sure you all knew that, but it was new to me.)

So I pour the marinade over the chicken, turning it around to coat it. Then it sits for at least 15 minutes at room temperature, covered, and you turn it once to coat some more.

While it was sitting, I pounded a couple lemons on the counter to soften them up. I cut them in half and squeezed the juice into a bowl, to baste the chicken while it's cooking. I now have the cleanest, nicest smelling disposal in the building after grinding up all the squeezed out lemon rinds.

Into the oven went the chicken (425 for 45 minutes), and I moved to sides. Martha pairs this with grilled zucchini. I know it's summer, but I am getting a little zucchini'd out. I decided, with a great baked chicken, how could you not have mashed potatoes?? I love me some mashed potatoes. Now, my parents say that when I was little, I wouldn't eat a mashed potato to save my life. I can't imagine that, as now I will actually order something on a menu BECAUSE it's served with mashed potatoes. As long as they don't have horseradish or wasabi in them. That's just gross. For mine, I cut up some red-skinned potatoes (skin still on, thank you) and cut up a couple more garlic cloves and some rosemary leaves for flavor.

I also steamed up a bunch of asparagus, because you should always have a green vegetable.

Periodically, I pulled the chicken out to baste it with the lemon juice. It's cooking up nicely!

Potatoes are done! I heat up a mug of milk and butter to mix in with the potatoes while I mash them. This mug has a nice little poem about the name Michelle on it.

Add the heated liquid a bit at a time, so as not to make the potatoes too runny. I used my immersion blender a bit to break up the pieces, since I don't have a masher, and then stirred in some fresh grated Parmesan, salt and pepper.

And then the buzzer goes off! Is the chicken ready? It smells fantastic!

I use my handy meat thermometer, and the temp flies up to 170 degrees in the breast piece, which, according to my cookbook, is done! YAY!!! So here it is, all ready to eat. The flavors were really good, with a nice bite thrown in from the lemon. It will probably be even better grilled. Next time.

And here is the odd mix of songs that made up the Grilled, but really Baked, Tuscan Chicken with Rosemary and Lemon

All I Want is You U2 (I LOVE YOU BONO!!!)
Dancing With Myself Billy Idol (I only found out a few years ago what this song was really about.)
Blackbird Sarah McLaughlin (From the I am Sam soundtrack. Her voice is so lovely, it's quite a beautiful cover of the Beatles classic)
Wish You Were Kate Voegele (I'm still in love with who I wish you were, and I wish you were here.)
Special Garbage (There was nothing that I wouldn't do, to keep myself around and close to you.)
Oh What a Night Frankie Valli (The ultimate song of the Northbound Junction! This and Fat Bottomed Girls)
Wuthering Heights Kate Bush
Slow Pony Home The Weepies
The Politics of Dancing Re-Flex (Well you know you can't stop it when they start to play, you gotta get out the way!)
The Best Tina Turner (And she is!!)
Wendy Time The Cure (You look like you could do with a friend, she said.)
Salt & Cherries Wendy & Lisa
Intermittently Barenaked Ladies (Now I'm kissing you by proxy, hope you don't mind.)
(You're the) Devil in Disguise Elvis Presley
What's Going On Cyndi Lauper (War is not answer, for only love can conquer hate)
Heal the Pain Paul McCartney and George Michael (Who needs a lover that can't be a friend)
Roxie Renee Zellweger (From Chicago)
I'll Take you There General Public (I know a place.... ain't nobody cryin')
Places that are Gone Tommy Keene
Make a Circuit With Me Polecats (I'll be a diode, cathode, electrode,overload, generator, oscillator, make a circuit with me)
Promises in the Dark Pat Benatar
Eyes Without a Face Billy Idol
Harry Carey: Braves v. Yankees Will Farrell
Sometimes I Get Frightened Split Endz (Neil Finn's band before Crowded House)
Something The Beatles (Paul sang this song in concert while playing the ukulele, as a tribute to George.)
Save a Prayer Duran Duran (I LOVE YOU SIMON!!)
The Same Deep Water as You The Cure
1999 Prince and the Revolution (Life is just a party and parties weren't meant to last)
Love Untold Paul Westerberg (Does anyone recall the saddest love of all. The one that lets you fall with nothing to hold.)
A Man Alanis Morrissette
Miracle Olive
Look What You've Done JET (Take my photo off the wall if it just won't sing for you)
Thanks for the Memories Fall Out Boy (I want these words to make things right, but it's the wrongs that make the words come to life.)
Hold on my Heart Genesis (Please don't rush in this time, don't show her how you feel)
And I can't let it end on this sad song, so I click it one more time and get......
Jet Paul McCartney (I thought the major was a lady suffragette!!!)

Letters are better than phone calls

2009-07-21T20:40:00.041-04:00

Sometimes.

At least that was the case today. I had a mole removed from my back last week, and I was not-so-patiently waiting for the results. Frankly, 7-10 days seems like a long time to have to wait. Especially when you have a vivid imagination that can picture an innocent-looking mole boring a cancerous root into your lung or liver. BUT, today, (Day 6, actually) I got the "all clear" letter, rather than the "You need to come back in" phone call. I got that phone call almost exactly two years ago. I still sport a dark pink scar in the middle of my back. My first badge of skin cancer free honor.

So, I was feeling a little sassy and spicy today, and for once, Martha had just the recipe to whip up! (Spicy, I mean... Martha has, so far, been short on spice and heavy on corn and Dijon mustard) Here it is: Skirt Steak with Spicy Green Salsa.

I don't think I've ever eaten skirt steak. I know I've never bought it. And looking at them at Publix left a lot to be desired (You're shocked, I know.). They were very fatty and, well.... grayish... Yeah, I couldn't do it. So I opted for a leaner looking cut. A thinner London Broil type cut... I threw the wrapper out, so I am not sure. Any-who, much redder and less fatter!

I had one glass left of my Australian Shiraz that I (finally) found at Costco. Julie actually brought my mom a bottle of this last summer. (Julie, it's probably still at the lake! I say we break it open when we're there for the reunion!) Its label is a plane ticket, and the neck has a luggage tag on it!

And... in case of a drink emergency....

I started out making the rub for the meat. Well, you don't rub it in so much as "sprinkle" it on. Either way, Martha steps it up with 5 TABLESPOONS of chili powder and a teaspoon and a half of cumin and dried oregano.

I like the Badia spices. They are cheaper. And those Spice Worlds are usually 10 for $10 at Publix. So $1 each. Bargain!!!! Shake in some salt and pepper, and "sprinkle" it on both sides of the meat, along with some drizzled olive oil. Pretty color!

So while that was "sitting" (Turn it once during the "sitting" time, which is about 10 minutes right there on the counter.), I put together the Spicy Green Salsa. That is 1/2 cup of fresh cilantro, chopped. (As an aside, that means you measure 1/2 cup, and then chop. 1/2 cup of flour, sifted is different than 1/2 cup of sifted flour. See Ms. Mooney, I paid attention sometimes.) A tablespoon of minced pickled jalapenos (wash your hands after chopping!), 3 Tbsps. of olive oil, a tablespoon of water and 1/2 tsp of red wine vinegar (WHY is there a sprinkle thing on this bottle!?!?!), and a dash of salt. Mix it all in a bowl and that's it.

Slap some plastic wrap on it and toss it in the fridge until you're ready for it. Now, again, I live in an apartment with no grills allowed. And my buddy George Forman wasn't going to be able to help me here...Had to rely on my trusty Lodge cast iron skillet. Drizzle in a bit of olive oil over high heat, and put the meat in. (As an aside, turn the fan on over your stove, and, depending on where your smoke alarms are, you also might want to crack a window. Just a thought.)

OK, so that went three minutes on one side and two on the other. It's that quick. Also quick is a yummy side veggie. I chopped up a garlic clove and tossed it into a pan with some olive oil. When it gets fragrant:

I toss in a huge handful of bagged baby spinach, stir it up and wilt it down.

Right before I take it off the heat, I splash in some Japanese soy sauce. It adds just the right flavor (Tamari brand, reduced sodium with the white label). And speaking of fragrant, the cumin and chili powder on that meat smell amazing when it's sizzling away.

Time to slice it up, and it's perfectly pink! I judged it right! Yay me! Topped with the Spicy Green Salsa, the blend of flavors is amazing. The cilantro really comes through, with a slight bite from the jalapenos. And still, the cumin and chili pepper all cooked up add a nice smokey flavor. The spinach was a perfect side. Not fussy, and the soy sauce adds a nice salty sweetness to the mix.

And I'm still feeling a bit sassy, so let's just call this the YIPPIE I don't have skin cancer playlist!

Someone Else Not Me Duran Duran (I refuse to let Steve Jobs and his satellites get me down. POW)
Pope Prince (You don't understand.. I ain't scared of you mother fuckers...You can be the president, I'd rather be the pope. You can be the side effect, I'd rather be the dope...)
This & That Michael Penn (Sean's brother kind of rocks.)
Livin' La Vida Loca Ricky Martin (Who's surprised? Raise your hand....crickets..)
Deep Inside You Third Eye Blind (And I never felt alone until I met you)
Forgiven Alanis Morissette (Ah... being Catholic...)
I Remember Holding You Boys Club (Cheese from the late 80s ages so nicely...)
West End Girls Pet Shop Boys (Call the police there's a mad mad around, run him down, underground, to a dive bar in a West End town)
I Love You Barenaked Ladies (Ah... fish sticks....)
Rock the Cradle of Love Billy Idol (Which Julie mistakenly thought was the first video played on VH-1)
So Hard Dixie Chicks (I'm full of surprises people. You need to keep up.)
With a Little Luck Paul McCartney (and Wings)
Wonderwall Oasis (I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.)
Genie in a Bottle Christina Aguilera (Snicker if you want, that little girl can belt out a song)
Mean Mr. Mustard The Beatles (Always shouts out something obscene, such a dirty old man)
Lisa Anne Bill Lloyd (I've got a hole in my heart the size of your jacuzzi)
We Belong Pat Benetar (Always I'm surprised how well you cut my feelings to the bone)
All You Zombies The Hooters (You don't have to hide anymore!!)
Material Girl Madonna (Loving the ode to Marilyn in this video! Gentlemen Prefer Blondes actually has a feminist message of girl power.)
Can't Be Sure The Sundays (I do so love The Sundays)
An Innocent Man Billy Joel (I'm only willing to hear you cry because I am an innocent man... I aaaaaaaaaaaaammm an innocent maaaaaaaaaaannnnnnn)
Quiet Times Dido (It's hard enough to feel the world as it is and hold on anything...)
You Better Love Somebody Rick Springfield (Paging Dr. Noah Drake to cure a case of heartache...)
Look No Further Dido (I might have been a poet, who walked upon the moon.)
Hate Me Blue Monday (LOVE, love, love this heartbreaking song!!!!!)

Vive la France!

2009-07-14T21:25:00.064-04:00

Not "Viva." That is a paper towel.

So it's Bastille Day! The day the citizens of France stormed the Bastille prison, kicking off that knitting circle we like to call the French Revolution. It was a rocking and (head) rolling time. And Kip has the same shirt that I had. Well, mine was a sweatshirt, but it's the same print. And, back then, we had the same hair. I don't have the shirt anymore. But I do still have that poster.

OK! Back to today! Bastille Day! I wanted to cook a special French dish, and, well, Martha is not much with the French food. So I turned to two of my favorite ladies. My dear friend Paige, who is a lover of the French, as shown here on her fabulous blog. and Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa. Paige gave me a recipe for an asparagus and baby leeks side dish, while from Ina, or rather the Food Network website, I got Scallops Provencal. And of course, a nice cold bottle of FRENCH Champagne.

Don't get me wrong. I am not above enjoying a cava or other sparkling domestic wine. Hell, I've even been (well) known to enjoy Andre. Pink.

But not today.

On to the food. While I was using one of Ina's recipes, I do not have her gang of magical, merry boys ready to do my bidding and run my errands, so I had to go to the store myself. I have seen the scallops available at Publix, and it's as sad as the selection of pretty much every fish. So I took the trip up to the Whole Foods to see if they had a better selection (Oh yes they did!!!).

And then there was the produce department. As I have stated in this blog numerous times, I like to be able to touch my vegetables and pick them out myself. At Publix, they are already wrapped in plastic and Styrofoam. Not at Whole Foods. There was everything out in the open. Ready to be examined and touched and inspected. It was, in a word, awesome. Except for one thing. No baby leeks. Paige's recipe calls for 8 baby leeks. Hmmm.. well, I'll just get two regular leeks and quarter them. NEXT! I was practically giddy as I filled my basket.

(As an aside, there was a man at Whole Foods in a spaghetti strap tank top and skirt. He was slender, but he was a man. He had slight facial and chest hair. Ah, shopping with the organic hippies...)

Prep time!! Just look how pretty asparagus can be when you get to pick it out yourself.

So, I set about chopping two shallots, a clove of garlic and fresh parsley for the scallops, and getting the leeks and asparagus ready. I cut the leeks and halved them before soaking them to get the rest of the grit out. After that, I quartered them and simmered them in 2 cups of chicken stock until they were tender. Here they are after their chicken stock Jacuzzi.

Then I boiled the asparagus for just a couple minutes before dunking them in ice water. (This is literally water with lots of ice, as there is no such thing as cold tap water in Florida.)

I got smaller bay scallops, as opposed to sea scallops. I tossed them with sea salt and black pepper, and then I was supposed to dredge them in all-purpose flour. Which I didn't have. BUT, I did have Bisquik. Same/same.

This picture will prove that Paula Deen should have created both of these recipes. That is butter. Melting in two pans. Unsweetened, unsalted, beautiful butter.

So then I had to put the scallops in one pan, and the leeks and asparagus in the other. Here is where my cooking expertise came into play, working two things at once. Thank GOD I am such a good prepper.

Scallops browning:

Leeks and asparagus doing their thing in butter:

OK, then I had to sprinkle freshly grated Parmesan-Reggiano cheese (again, thank you Whole Foods!) on top of the veggies (cheese? Yes please!), and add the shallot, garlic, parsley mix to the scallops, in addition to 1/3 a cup of dry white wine. (DO NOT use the Champagne! An unexciting Sauvignon Blanc can be used for that. You're just cooking with it!)

And so here it all is. The addition of the wine with the flour (Bisquik) dredged scallops makes a nice thick, almost goopie (but in the best way!) sauce. YUM!!! And the veggies are nice and tender with a good flavor and texture.

I guess Paige and Ina can keep their heads!

(A note on the coarse sea salt I used in these recipes. This is PERFECT to clean your cast iron skillet. As is Kosher salt. Just do a healthy sprinkle around your pan and scrub the sticky bits off with the salt, then rinse. If you are using any kind of soap to clean a cast iron skillet, you are ruining its fabulousity.)

Here is the Bastille Day playlist. It started out with an "About you" theme.. it was a bit weird...

Song About Wendy and Lisa (Song about Prince. "The pain of my spirit and the pain of my heart, don't ever tell me to let it all go")
Till Death do us Part Madonna (Song about Sean Penn. "We never laugh.. not like before.")
Warwick Avenue Duffy (Song about an ex-boyfriend. "Don't think we're OK just because I'm here. You hurt me bad, but I won't shed a tear.")
Much Too Late for Goodbyes Julian Lennon (Song about his father, John. "Ever since you've been leavin' me, I've been wanting to cry.")
Purple Rain Prince and the Revolution (In the movie, it was a song about Appolonia. In reality, it is arguably the best Prince song of all time. All the lyrics are awesome. I can't pick just one.)
Paper Doll PM Dawn (OK, the theme is over now. But this song is awesome, and this was one of my favorite CDs freshman year of college.)
Even the Nights are Better Air Supply (Again, not embarrassed one bit by having the greatest hits of Air Supply on my iPod.)
Quality Barenaked Ladies ("Life of the party, like Billy Barty, but regular size.")
The Wrong Man Was Convicted Barenaked Ladies ("I thought that you would wait for me. Your wants I needn't heed.")
Lost Annie Lennox (I will go on record right now as saying that Annie Lennox has one of the most beautiful voices ever.)
The Name of the Game ABBA (This song was left out of the movie version of Mamma Mia. It's on the DVD in the extras.)
You May be Right Billy Joel ("But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for.")
Sound of Your Voice Barenaked Ladies ("I let you down, and fell right off of your good list.")
Where Do We Go From Here? Cast (From the "Once More With Feeling" episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Oh yeah. I have most of those songs on my iPod, too.)
Leather and Lace Stevie Nicks and Don Henley (This relationship gave birth to the song Sarah, which she wrote after ending her pregnancy by Mr. Henley. And you thought her relationship with Lindsey Buckingham was rough.)
I Need a Man Eurythmics (SING IT ANNIE!!!!)
Darling Nikki Prince and the Revolution (An interesting follow up to the previous song....)
When Tomorrow Comes Eurythmics
Suicide Blonde INXS (I think that was the color of my hair in high school.)
Trust The Cure (Way to bring down the room, Robert.)
Caught in my Shadow The Wonder Stuff
Slave to Love Bryan Ferry (Ah.. Mickey Rourke when he was hot and in 9 1/2 Weeks. And hot. Sigh...)
Tempted Duran Duran (I LOVE YOU SIMON!!!!)
Space Oddity David Bowie
Until the End of the World U2 (I LOVE YOU BONO!!!)
From Me to You The Beatles ("If there's anything that you need.. if there's anything I can do... ")
Vertigo U2 (I LOVE YOU BONO!!!)
Always in Love Graham Colton

I would never call Prince a shrimp!

2009-07-05T20:36:00.026-04:00

I was Old Mother Hubbard today, with my bare cupboards and fridge. I was gone all last week and got takeout when I came home, and went to a party yesterday. I finally made it to the store today. But I realized around 6-ish that the only thing I'd eaten today was the piece of Boar's Head Catering Style Turkey that the nice deli lady gave me for thickness/thinness approval (I recommend it). I decided it was time to head for the kitchen to whip up a batch of Martha's Shrimp, Tomato and Basil Pasta. I made a little side salad first, as I was starving and I can't cook and have a glass of wine on an empty stomach. I did manage to go to Publix and stick to the list though, so I have that going for me, which is nice.

I peeled my shrimps, and de-veined them, managing to slit my finger in the process. Joy. And I wasn't even using a knife. Explain that one. So here is a pound of shelled and de-veined shrimp.

I should have gone to Costco for them, but I hate going there on the weekends.... Although I would have gotten free snacks.... See what happens when I don't eat... ramble on...Wouldn't it be weird if you met someone named Sheldon Devein?

Moving on, I halved a pint of cherry tomatoes. Well, some were a little bigger, so I quartered them. Yeah, tomato acid on a slit finger... awesome. That only happened once. Diced up a couple cloves of garlic, too. And some fresh basil.

You need to cook up the shrimp in some olive oil first. Martha only seasons the shrimp with salt and pepper. Well, I don't have a Connecticut stick up my ass, so the flakes you see are the red pepper flakes I tossed in. Martha needs to hang out with Giada with the Big Head more often, because this is turning out to be a version of GWTBH's Shrimp Fra Diavlo that I love.

I will admit right now that I am a messy cook. I splatter, I spill, I dirty more pots/dishes/spoons/etc than I should. Whatever. That's what laundry, Lysol counter wipes and the dishwasher are for. Although the way I swirl stuff with olive oil around in the pan, I am constantly amazed that I have not set off a grease fire. Knock wood on that one, because I have no flour and I think if I remember my cooking safety as taught by Miss Mooney in 7th grade home ec., you throw flour on a grease fire. Please let me know if I am wrong. I don't break my eggs into custard cups first either. Take that, Miss Mooney. That's just how I roll. Sadly, she was old then, so she's probably dead now. Yeah, I'm going to hell...

Anyway.... You set the shrimp aside and toss the garlic into the pan, along with a can of diced tomatoes with the sauce, along with two cups of water, bring to a boil, then let it simmer until it gets "saucy."

My friend Kara called then, so we were chatting while I was waiting for my sauce to get "saucy." Supposedly this takes 15 minutes. Well, 20 minutes later, I am the only one getting "saucy." Or maybe it was sassy. Either way, I cursed out Martha for her poor judgement in cook times.

Still not saucy.

I cranked up the temp and let it boil harder, and finally!!! Saucy. So I tossed in the tomatoes, basil and shrimp and stirred it up. Yummm!!

Meanwhile, I had boiled up some angel hair pasta. Martha uses linguine, but I'm not Martha. And here it is, all ready to eat. Well, I did sprinkle on a little Parmesan cheese. It IS pasta, after all.

And here is the Shrimp, Tomato and Basil Pasta playlist, which is surprisingly heavy on his royal purpleness! Hence the title of this blog.

I Got the Feeling Neil Diamond (oh not again Steve Jobs!!)
Baby Don't You Break My Heart Slow Vonda Shepard and Emily Saliers (Dammit, come on!)
Revolution The Beatles (THANK YOU!!!! I love the guitar in this song.)
Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain Willie Nelson (you had me iPod, then you lost me...)
Plainsong The Cure (I do love how this is used in Marie Antoinette when they are first crowned...)
Hero Takes a Fall The Bangles (Yay, we're back to happy!)
Dancing Queen ABBA (You can dance, you can jive.. And I did.)
When Tomorrow Comes Eurythmics
Sexy M.F. Prince (and for a short skinny man, he is a sexy mother fucker. I think it's because he's so funky and the way he plays that guitar....)
Famous Last Words My Chemical Romance (I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone!)
When Doves Cry Prince and the Revolution (such an AWESOME song!!!!)
Candy Shop Madonna (OK, I'll bite. What the hell is Turkish delight???)
Waterfall Wendy & Lisa (not Prince, but come on, close enough!)
Sometimes You Can't Make it on Your Own U2 (He took off his sunglasses when he sang this in concert... I LOVE YOU BONO!!!!!)
If I Was Your Girlfriend Prince (from Sign O' the Times BUT was originally on The Black Album)
Right Here Staind
Have Fun, Go Mad Blair (All aboard that funk boat that I'm about to start sailing on....)
Since U Been Gone Kelly Clarkson (Yadda yadda)
Mysterious Ways U2 (I LOVE YOU BONO!!!)
Julia The Beatles
Birthday The Beatles (I play this every year for my dad on his birthday. Cuz it's my birthday too, yeah!!!)
Heartache Tonight The Eagles (which usually is followed by a headache tomorrow morning)
Deserve It Madonna
Little Red Corvette Prince and the Revolution
Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word Elton John (Ain't it the truth)
How's it Gonna Be Third Eye Blind (sigh)
The Boxer Simon & Garfunkel (My cousin Marty wanted them to play this at the dueling piano bar. Yeah, they didn't)
If I Could Turn Back Time Cher (Totally not embarrassed to have this on my iPod.)
Rumpshaker Wrexx-n-Effect (All I wanna do is zooma-zoom-zoom-zoom and a boom boom!)

Et tu, Steve Jobs

2009-06-23T23:10:00.041-04:00

I wanted to write this hours ago, but we had a thunder and lightning storm!!!

All I can say is, thank God Sauteed Zucchini, Peppers and Tomatoes didn't call for onions, or I probably would have cut myself.

SO, it's Tuesday, and I was not in the mood to make something big, as I am going out after work tomorrow, and then again Friday and Saturday. Something easy.. like a side dish!!! I had to go to Costco anyway, to get water (and fine, a book. I had two in the cart. I put one back!), so I grabbed one of their rotisserie chickens, which are $6 and YUMMY!!! I can use it for sandwiches for lunch, too!!

On to Publix. Sigh. Again, the produce police make sure I am not allowed to choose my own zucchini. I only need a pound, so I get the lightest one they have (1.55 pounds). I have my food scale at home and measure out a pound's worth.

My mom was a math teacher. I know 16 ounces is a pound, and the scale says 15.75. I wasn't going to cut a bit off the one other zucchini in the package I had to buy instead of weighing them individually at the store. So fine. Slightly less than a pound of zucchini. Sorry, Martha. Blame the Publix produce Nazis.

Who, apparently, think it's perfectly OK for us to be able to pick out our own cucumbers, scallions, jalapenos, bell peppers... It's baffling to me. Anyway, I needed two yellow peppers. Just my luck, there were exactly two bell peppers left. Are they not the saddest things you've ever seen?

The picture actually does not do their condition justice. They were usable, but if I had gone in tomorrow, and that was all that was left... let's just say the sweet old man that sings might have cried.

And grape tomatoes. YAY!!!

And two garlic cloves, smashed. I love me some garlic. I had to smash them to get the skin off, but then gave them a couple extra whacks for good measure. Yum, good and smashed.

Speaking of smashed (not really! I actually opened that bottle the other day!), I am enjoying this delicious Cupcake Sauvignon Blanc. It's a Marlborough, so full of that citrus bite I love. See, with red wine, I want one I can chew. With white wine, I want one that bites back. This one does that, and for less than $10!

So everything into the pan! It's pretty with all the color, and when that garlic heats up... dee-lish!

You're supposed to just toss in some salt and pepper, but since I have some fresh parsley, I chop some up and toss it in. That's how I roll.... Oh, these are my salt and pepper shakers. Aren't they cute as hell???

Sauteing. Fun!! Takes about 10 minutes. A little note... when you heat up grape tomatoes... sometimes they pop. It burns. I'm just saying. Anyway, here it is. Pretty! And yummy, too!

Here is the playlist. I still think Steve Jobs has a satellite in the sky that zones in and programs your iPod to play songs you don't really want to hear.

How's it Gonna Be Third Eye Blind
How Can you Mend a Broken Heart Al Green
High Enough Damn Yankees
Untitled 1 Keane
Wendy Time The Cure
White Flags of Winter Chimneys Wendy & Lisa
I'm Not OK My Chemical Romance
See the Sun (and hidden track) Dido
Don't Feel Like Cryin' Abra Moore
Last Day on Earth Duran Duran
Rewind Stereophonics
Love is the Seventh Wave Sting
From the Edge of a Deep Green Sea The Cure

The Tale of the Red Cloth (or Happy Father's Day, Dickie!)

2009-06-21T19:49:00.017-04:00

I was home for Christmas break my senior year in college, doing laundry. That was when I actually paid attention to breaking up things by colors, whites, towels, etc.... I was folding every one's darks, and there was a piece of red flannel like material. About a foot square, I'd say, maybe a little bigger. You could tell it had been cut from something, but it wasn't mine so I put it in the pile of my dad's stuff, and put the pile on my parents' bed.

(If you know him, you know he just has random bits of stuff everywhere, from the rec room to the rafters of his FOUR garages, so this was not a far-fetched thought.)

He came to me later that day with the cloth in his hands. "What is this?"
"I don't know. I found it in the laundry and figured it was some sort of hunting snot rag or something. It's clean."

"Well it's not mine."

"OK."

"I mean, I had a red shirt that I think was made of this fabric, but where's the rest of it?"

"That's all that was there in the laundry, and I certainly did not cut up one of your shirts."

"Well that is weird."

"Yeah, well... OK." I had grown tired.

I woke up the next morning and opened my bedroom door, and there, rolled up on the floor was the red cloth. I rolled my eyes, and took it to my parents room and put it back on their bed. Nothing was said, but a couple nights later, I crawled into bed to find something under the covers at my feet. The red cloth. Oh, it was ON!!!

For the rest of my break, the red cloth was found in his pajamas that were tucked under his pillow, again under my covers at my feet, in his truck and I think even in the pocket of my jeans in a drawer. I went back to school after tucking it away somewhere I don't even remember. Nothing was said.

I went home for Easter break and back to school with no mention of red cloth. A couple weeks after I was back at school, I was taking pledges back to their dorms one morning after the big/little sis sleepover at the house. It was early. I pulled down the sun visor and into my lap fell the red cloth. I stared at it for half a second before letting loose a string of obscenities and curses that had the pledges even more afraid of me then they already were (Apparently I can be somewhat intimidating). I knew exactly when he had done it. Oh, I thought he was so nice checking my oil and my tires when I was home at Easter. HA!

Ever since then, my father and I have made a game out of "dropping" the red cloth on each other. I thought I had won when I cut it in half and embroidered a little scene on it. I think it was a Father's Day present. But that didn't stop it. The pieces just got smaller and easier to hide. Like the top of his Thermos or in a CD case.

Once I tied his Dick's Sporting Goods gift card to the Christmas tree with a length of it. I opened a box that I thought held jewelry one Christmas, only to find a small red flannel Christmas tree cut with pinking sheers.

I get a little piece in every birthday card. I stuck the heart-shaped piece I had (again, cut with his preferred pinking sheers) onto a printed out IOU for Willie Nelson's new CD that was being released after his birthday this year. Throughout it all, Jan and Jenny just roll their eyes at us.

But the best drop of all so far was mine two years ago. We are talking a Wile E. Coyote SUPER GENIUS drop. They came to visit me in Florida, and I had bought a box of his favorite Doe-Si-Doe Girl Scout cookies for him (those are the peanut butter sandwich ones, right?). I took my Exacto knife and carefully sliced through the glue holding the bottom of the box and slid out the two tubes of cookies, carefully tying a piece of red cloth around each before putting them back in the box and re-gluing it shut. The morning they left, I gave him the cookies to take to Myrtle Beach, knowing he wouldn't open them until they got there. I can only imagine the expression on his face when he opened the box, but I have been told it was quite funny.

In a little wooden box on my dresser, I keep my pieces of cloth. I have the pinking sheer Christmas tree:

A fish, or actually, it looks like the Binghamton Whaler mascot. If you look close, you can see that he drew on an eye, a fin and lines in the tail. He's clever, that one.:

A snowflake:

And some random bits:

I had another piece, but it is Father's Day, after all. HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DICKIE!!! I LOVE YOU!!!

(The origins of the red cloth have never been known. At least no one has ever claimed responsibility for how it came to be in the laundry that day.)

Taco Kisses for my Chris...

2009-06-20T23:05:00.025-04:00

Well, taco kisses for everyone. Fish tacos that is, courtesy of Martha.

Sorry. Whenever I make tacos, I think of the South Park episode where Cartman's hand was possessed by Jennifer Lopez. I don't have time to explain. Look it up.

So on to Martha's Fish Tacos made with tilapia.

First of all, I went to see The Proposal today. It was funny and sweet and well, hello.......

Enough said on that...

This trip to Publix, which bills itself as "Where shopping is a pleasure," but is, in reality, "where shopping is a big, fat pain in my ass," was actually less than painful. This trip. I was able to find everything I needed. Amazingly enough. Including the fish and the stuff I needed to make the red cabbage slaw.

(As an aside, cabbage always reminds me of a funny story about Jenny. When we still lived together, I emailed her during the day and asked what she wanted/needed from the grocery store, as I was going after work. She said lettuce, as the head of lettuce in the drawer tasted funny. Now, head lettuce is not something I buy often. There is really no health benefit to it at all, other than extra water. Then it hit me... I typed back, "If you mean the head of lettuce in the left hand drawer, that is cabbage." I had made the Weight Watcher vegetable soup the week before, which called for cabbage. She emailed back, "OH, no wonder it tasted funny."
"You ate it?
"Yeah, I made a salad with it, and put it on my sandwich."
"And it didn't strike you as thick or weird?"
"Well, it tasted weird."
This story wouldn't be as funny if Jenny hadn't been a hotel/restaurant management major in college who took more than a couple cooking classes.)

OK, back to the present. Fish tacos with a red cabbage slaw. Isn't it pretty, all chopped up?

OH, and, since it's a fun dish like tacos, that calls for a fun beverage. It's not Mexican or Spanish, but it's good, and that is what really matters.

Soooo, in addition to red cabbage, the slaw also includes scallions and a jalapeno pepper, cut in half length-wise. Half the pepper is diced for the slaw and the other half is left whole. I always use baggies on my hands when handling jalapenos, to keep the oils off my fingers.

I scooped out the pith and some of the seeds before dicing it up and tossing it in with the cabbage and scallions. The heat is in the seeds and, like I've said before, I like a bit of heat in my food. So with the veggies, I mix in the sauce, which is fat-free sour cream (Martha says low-fat, but I always use the fat-free) and lime juice. Looks tasty, and it does have a nice bite.

Then I slice up the fish, which is meant to be cooked in my skillet with some olive oil and the other half of the jalapeno. I made sure to rub the pepper all around, to spread the flavor, and I had left the pith and seeds in that side, so... yum...
In went the fish in two batches.

This is the second batch. Now, I don't know that kind of pixie dust and magic fairy farts Martha uses to make it all look super pretty in her pictures. I know she must have someone using Photoshop like nobody's business, because my fish didn't look like it did in the book, but it sure was tasty!!! Oh, and you drizzle a little of the extra sour cream/lime juice sauce on top, along with some chopped cilantro.

Ole!

The Taco Kisses for Everyone playlist (I must admit, not a shiny happy taco list):
Stay By Me Annie Lennox
Wuthering Heights Kate Bush (My favorite book, I must admit)
Someone Air Supply (I am not remotely embarrassed that I have the greatest hits of Air Supply on my iPod.)
I Know Him By Heart Vonda Shepard
This Land is Mine Dido
I've Changed (Alternate Version) Josh Joplin Group
Hideous Towns The Sundays
Goodnight, Goodnight Maroon 5
Vertigo U2
Sorry Madonna
New York Minute Don Henley
Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough Patty Smyth and Don Henley
Let's Go Crazy Prince and the Revolution (Dearly beloved... we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life...)
Love Song The Cure
Rhymin and Stealin Beastie Boys (Because mutiny on the bounty's what we're all about...)
Not An Addict K's Choice (We're so creative, we're so much more...)
The Flag Barenaked Ladies
You're Not the Only One That I Know The Sundays (What is the harm of talking out loud when I'm on my own....)
The Night is Still Young Billy Joel (You think his marriage splitting up has something to do with the fact that she's 27 and he's fucking 60?!?!?!)

My Personal Beatlemania

2009-06-20T19:58:00.013-04:00

I set up one of those quizzes on Facebook, and one of the questions was "Who is my favorite band of all time?"

Everyone picked the Barenaked Ladies. Which is a very good guess. I do love them. But of all time?? No. That title goes to the greatest band of all time. I mean John, Paul, George and Ringo. THE BEATLES!!! So how did a girl who was not only born after the band broke up, but who was also raised by parents who favored Johnny Mathis, Elvis, Willie Nelson, The Platters and various other non-British Invasion musical artists??

For my love of The Beatles, I have to thank Peter Frampton, the Bee Gees and my aunt Sharon. An odd combination, I will admit, but bear with me.

I don't remember how old I was, but I went to visit my cousin Melissa outside of Buffalo one summer. And part of the Buffa-low down included watching a cheesy movie musical on HBO. The movie? Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Starring Peter Frampton, the Bee Gees, George Burns, Steve Martin, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith... I could go on (and there is probably a special circle in Dante's Inferno for each and every one of them for making this movie)... BUT, while the plot was, in a word, awful, the music was amazing!!! I loved every single song and sang them out loud!

My aunt sighed, and said, if you like the music, at least listen to the real thing. And placed in my hands her very own Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band record album. I was sucked in. We played it on her stereo. All the lyrics were right there to read along. All the songs from the movie weren't on it (the rest of the songs were pulled from Abbey Road) but it was a start.

Ever since then, it's been the Fab Four for me. I had their stuff on cassette, and then on CD. I've seen Paul in concert twice. The first time was in Toronto. He sang Michelle, and I knew that even though he was a speck on a far-away stage, he was singing right to me. Then I saw him again in Atlanta with Kara, a fellow Beatles lover, and her parents. Awesome show. He sang Something as a tribute to George, and Here Today for John.

(My mother has since admitted that when I was about 3 years old, I used to sing two songs at the top of my lungs to anyone who would listen: Delta Dawn by Helen Reddy, and Yellow Submarine by The Beatles.)

I have their music on CD, and I got the Anthology coffee table book from my parents on my 30th birthday. I know Paul's name is actually not Paul (It's James. Paul is his middle name). And I know that the last time they were all together was outside Abbey Road Studios in 1970. I used to know the exact date, but I lost that page from the 365-days of The Beatles calendar. I've also been to Abbey Road Studios. Well, outside on the sidewalk. I signed the wall through my tears.

So, when I still lived in Atlanta, and my aunt Sharon and uncle Joe were preparing to move from there to South Carolina, I went up to help them pack. Or just for cocktails and dinner... Any-who... she showed me some stuff she was planning on tossing. And in the "to go" pile was that original Sgt. Pepper album. Along with The White Album and Rubber Soul (which, by the way, features Michelle). Horrified, I grabbed them, along with a jacketless Beggar's Banquet by The Rolling Stones and that Christian band Stryper's album. Which was my cousin Marty's. And I did give it back to him. At Thanksgiving. In front of his girlfriend. I did it with love (Happy Birthday, Marty!!! It was yesterday).

Anyway, I have had those albums ever since. Jenny had to actually send them to me after I moved. And today, Two of them got some special treatment. Now, they are not in the greatest condition. My aunt actually played her albums. But I think they look nice in their new home.

Now I'll have to get a frame for the poster that came inside The White Album.

And I am waiting patiently until September 9th, when all of The Beatles' CD's will be re-issued in all of their remastered fabulous in-stereo glory!!! "Penny Lane is in my ears, and in my eyes......"

PS... I have that movie on VHS. I just discovered it's now on DVD.... My birthday is January 15th. I'm just saying....

Here's to good friends

2009-06-19T20:50:00.015-04:00

In the days after 9-11, I had been laid off, so I was home all day. Nothing was on TV but the news, with horrible images of smoldering rubble and people holding up pictures of missing loved ones. It was heart wrenching, and I dreaded having to go to bed, only to lay there all night thinking of the horror and sadness.

(I swear this is about to get more upbeat.)

I started staying up super late to watch Designing Women on Lifetime. It came on at midnight, after The Golden Girls. Those two episodes each night would make me laugh and help me sleep with good thoughts in my head.

I've been having a rough time of it these past few weeks. Of course nothing compared to 9-11, not even close to that. No, this is more personal. But I've been having trouble going to sleep, my brain always clicking and my imagination monorail always bumps my logic train off the track. Luckily, in addition to the great real friends I have, I can now turn to my old friends Julia, Suzanne, Mary Jo and Charlene. Yep, today I found the first season of Designing Women on DVD!! Best Buy RULES!

Before there were the ladies of Sex and the City, there were the ladies of Sugarbaker's. Love them!! Plus, they were in Atlanta, and I lived there. I love hearing them talking about going places I knew. Phipps Plaza! Lenox Mall! Cobb County! I am still trying to figure out where Julia's house is. Probably Buckhead.

I have always identified more with Mary Jo. Probably because, for starters, we have the same hair. She wants to be brave and tough, and inside, she is. But that is underneath a layer of insecurity. I know that feeling.

I always wanted to be like Julia, who always went off on those great rants. I can do that too, but only on paper. Oh, I can whip off a doozy of a letter or monologue. Words are my weapons in print, but if it's face to face, I turn back in to Mary Jo.

Or Charlene, who is hilarious with her love of psychics and tabloids. And true love. Hopelessly romantic dreamer that I tend to be. Ah, well...

Then there is Suzanne. What girl hasn't been Suzanne? Every once and a while, you have to get that little sassy spring in your step when you're having a good hair day, or a dress you couldn't fit into last year zips up with a bit of breathing room to spare. Every girl likes to be pretty, even if they don't admit it.

And they had each other. Friends till the end. I like that I can watch them again. It puts happy thoughts in my head, and makes me think of the designing women in all of us girls. (And if you are a man and you feel a little Julia or Suzanne sometimes, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that at all. You go with your Sugarbaker self!)

We stick together, too. I know I can count on my girls, and they can count on me. And maybe, someday, I'll get the shoulder pads to do a little something like this:

P.S. Best Buy also had the second season of Knots Landing on DVD. You know I had to have it, and don't even get me started on how much I love Knots Landing. Abby arrives!!! Sid DIES!!!! J.R. comes to visit!!! OH, it's too delicious!

The Other White Meat (and I am still not crazy about Publix)

2009-06-14T22:30:00.045-04:00

So I knew I needed to whip up some supper, and I figured since I was going to Grease Burger Bar tomorrow for happy hour and Wednesday for lunch, I should pass on the red meet. I was really not in the mood for chicken or fish... So that lead me to pork, the other white meat. Again, I don't have a grill and want to keep it easy, so Roasted Pork and Black-Eyed Pea Salad it is, then!!

I set off for Publix, on foot, as it is right across the back parking lot from my apartment, and I am just getting the fixings for this. This time, the spices and veggie choices were easy to pick out. It was just the needed pork loin (2 loins, 10-12 oz. each). Being Publix, the only loins they had of that size are already "marinated" or covered in spice.. not what I needed. So I grabbed the man filling in the steak display to ask for "plain" pork loin. At first, he looked at me like I had lobsters coming out my eyes, but then I explained that I just needed pork loins that aren't "that," as I pointed to the pile of lemon pepper and and BBQ flavors of loin that are available.

"OH," he says. Apparently, I am in luck when it comes to plain pork loin. They are on sale! of course, they are not small. My choices end up being chops, loins as big as my thigh, or smaller bits of loin that are bigger than what I wanted but, as he pointed out, I could cut up and put half in the freezer. I picked the latter. I can use the other half for the pork quesadillas that are coming up later in Martha's book!

So, back at Ibis Reserve Circle, I preheated the oven and started to mix the spice rub. YUM.. paprika, salt and pepper, red pepper and thyme...

And this is what a yummy, fat pork loin looks like after said spice mixture is rubbed into it.

So into the oven that went, and it was on to the salad. Sounded interesting, as I have never had black-eyed peas outside of New Year's eve celebration. Here is the red pepper and my glass of Coppola Rosso, which we tried the other night at a wine tasting. It is a delicious blend of Zinfandel, Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon. Highly recommended, and very tasty.

So, I chop up the pepper and two scallions, and mix it with some defrosted frozen corn. The sauce is Dijon mustard (again, Martha? Really? I swear she loves the Dijon) cider vinegar and olive oil. Actually, it calls for vegetable oil, but aren't olives vegetables??

Oh, the pork is done...I pull it out and put my thermometer in. I miss the one I stole from Jenny (which I have returned). It worked better. But my new one actually photographs better.

Well that can't be right...Martha says the temperature should read 150 degrees, so the needle should be where the arrow is on the right side of the dial. I am not a fan of trichinosis, so OK... back in for 15 minutes. Surely that will do it.... I dance around to some more songs, and clean up the random dishes until the buzzer goes off again.

Still not ready... sigh.. OK.. 8 more minutes for the meat to cook while the salad "cooks" in the fridge... Jan used to cook the hell out of pork, until it was like an old boot. I know you don't have to do that before you eat it, so I went with Martha's 150 degrees, rather than the thermometer's 170. Better that we compromise...

160 on the thermometer. Good enough for me!!! And let me tell you, it was all perfect!

Here is the Roasted Pork and Black-Eyed Pea Salad playlist:
Ring of Fire Johnny Cash
Where the Streets Have No Name U2
Time Is Running Out Muse
Stay Lisa Loeb
Already Gone The Eagles
When I'm 64 The Beatles
Joey Concrete Blonde
Love on the Rocks Neil Diamond
Straw Hat & Old Dirty Hank Barenaked Ladies (oddly enough, written about a man who stalked Anne Murray)
She Edie Brickell and New Bohemians
Call Me Calmly Barenaked Ladies
Outrageous Mixology Will and Grace (a mix of dance music and clips from the show. AWESOME)
Make a Circuit With Me The Polecats
Keep it Together Madonna (Don't forget that your family is gold)
They Don't Know Tracy Ullman (the video has a cameo by PAUL MCCARTNEY!!!)
Falling Down Duran Duran
Crazy Pills Will Farrell
Erased Annie Lennox (the ULTIMATE break-up song)
Stupid Sarah McLaughlin
All Through The Night Cyndi Lauper
Human Human League
A Matter of Trust Billy Joel
Same Deep Water As You The Cure
I'm Alive Electric Light Orchestra (from the Xanadu soundtrack. Oh yeah.)

Why I hate Publix, a short essay (or, Making Herb-Crusted Snapper)

2009-06-09T22:30:00.026-04:00

This is how I have to buy my vegetables at Publix. Already chosen for me, already wrapped in Styrofoam and plastic wrap. While I like to believe this is really where my meat comes from, it is not how I like to shop for veggies. I like to touch my veggies. I like to pick them up and examine them for defects or perfection (even if sometimes I have no idea really what I am looking for). But the Publix here in West Palm has decided they will choose our veggies for us. Well, not all of them. I can pick my own tomatoes, potatoes, onions, cucumbers; but when it comes to things you actually want to examine.... tough beans buddy (yeah, they're wrapped up, too).

Anyway, I am there to gather the ingredients for my next adventure in Marthaland——Herb-Crusted Snapper. Now, I had already had trouble with this recipe before I even entered the store. It calls for 1/2 cup of finely chopped assorted herbs. That's you ingredient Martha? ASSORTED HERBS. Helpful. Really. So that lead to last minute phone calls and emails to my two cooking gurus——Chris and Paige. Both said tarragon. Chris actually said tarragon, chives, Italian parsley. Paige said tarragon... then thyme and parsley. Since this is about trying new things, and I had never used tarragon before, I went with Chris and grabbed some tarragon and chives. Of course you have to buy the organic kind in the plastic bubble that costs three times as much as a loose bunch. Sigh.

Italian parsley... Italian parsley... Oh, here it is.... one limp, sad bunch of it. Again, wrapped in plastic and Styrofoam. Except this packet was already torn open. I snagged my weird neighbor (who also is a Publix employee and happened to be walking by) asking him, "Is this all there is??" He brought me the produce manager (NOT the fun little man that always sings as he restocks the lettuce), who went to "check in the back." Some other guy brought me out a tightly wrapped bunch of Italian parsley (he did specify what I wanted before he went to check) and I said, "Oh, I'll trade you this sad one." Which he promptly put right back on the shelf. Ah, Publix....

Right. Snapper. Off to the fish "area." I can't really call it a department. Snapper? Nope. No snapper. Well, three small, cloudy eyed whole snappers that the "fish guy" offered to fillet for me. OR, we have frozen fillets. My time in the produce department had already chapped my ass, so fine, I took his frozen fillets, and stalked off to get the rest of the random things I needed (yes, definitely wine).

Here are my sad little snapper fillets, defrosting in the sink. No skin side... Martha does mention a skin side...

And this is the voddy tonic I made to try and calm down from the whole Publix experience (I've been a little on edge lately). Made in a pint glass I stole from a sports bar in Myrtle Beach where Jan, Dick, my Aunt Kathy and I came in second in trivia.

So, obviously I by-passed Martha's idea of couscous, and chose zucchini squash as a side, which I chopped up and tossed it in my steamer with some dill and a quartered garlic clove in the flavor thing-a-ma-bob. This is my dill house. I got it at Boscov's. I used to have a whole set. Now I just have the dill.

The bonus of using fresh garlic in the flavor thing-a-ma-bob is that when all is steamed and done... you have chunks of soft, steamed yummy garlic!!

So I chopped all my zucchini and tossed it in the steamer, sprinkled with some more dill, to sit. I would turn it on when I put the fish in the oven. Then I tackled my ASSORTED HERBS.

I was pulling off tarragon leaves when a strange scent hit me...is that...licorice? Yes, Chris neglected to tell me that tarragon, which, again, I had never used, has the essence of black licorice. As an aside, there are a couple flavors I can't tolerate. Horseradish is the first one. Black licorice is the second one. BUT, this is about doing new things, and it wasn't like I was making fish with black jelly beans, so I pressed on. I coated my fish on one side with Dijon mustard and stuck it in my herb pile, to coat evenly, just like Martha says.

Then in the oven at 375 for 15 minutes, and POW! Herb-crusted Snapper. Now, there really isn't a "crust." And, again, like I said, tarragon/black licorice...still iffy. Plus, I do prefer a lighter fish——tilapia, flounder, halibut——BUT, this was good. The herbs and mustard gave it a nice flavor. I think I would like to try it on a lighter fish. One more down! Take that, Martha!!!

Now, lately, the shuffle option on my iPod has me convinced that Steve Jobs has a satellite somewhere that zones in to your brainwaves and makes your iPod play songs that you really don't want/need to hear. But tonight, it was OK. So here is the I Hate Publix, But Like Herb-Crusted Snapper playlist.

Jealousy Natalie Merchant (oh crap, damn you Steve Jobs!)
Summer of Love The B-52s (MUCH BETTER!!!!)
Hot Stuff Donna Summer (oh yeah, baby!)
This is Where it Ends Barenaked Ladies
Does Your Mother Know ABBA
Who Needs Sleep Barenaked Ladies (I think they take up the most iPod space)
Honky Tonk Woman The Rolling Stones
Homeward Bound Simon & Garfunkel
Pleasant Valley Sunday The Monkees (oh yeah)
Don't Let It Go Bryan Adams and Sarah McLaughlin (I honestly have no idea how this song ended up on my iPod, but it was so BAD, I had to fast forward it.)
All About Soul Billy Joel (love this song)
I Think I Love You The Partridge Family (If you are surprised I have this song on my iPod, then you don't know me as well as you thought you did.)
Mouth Bush (oooo..... Gavin........)
Witness Sarah McLaughlin
Never Gonna Get It En Vogue
Sandy John Travolta (again, come on. You know me...)
What if You Joshua Radin (ah, there you are Steve Jobs, you bastard.)

George Foreman is my hero. Take that, Martha.

2009-05-30T21:26:00.017-04:00

I had first thought to just go through and do the recipes in order. But there are three soups in a row to start off summer, and I still have corn soup in my fridge. And in my freezer....

I had some chicken breasts defrosting, so I found the one summertime recipe that used plain chicken breasts—Garlic-Marinated Chicken Cutlets with Grilled Potatoes. And actually, you make asparagus too. And Martha's Favorite Vinaigrette. Oh, and did you see where it says GRILLED?

I live in an apartment. So I don't have a grill. But I do have the George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine. In your face, Martha! That would work for the chicken, but I didn't think the potatoes and asparagus would hold up. And I only have the one. I am not like that crazed lady in those infomercials with six of the things going at once, whipping up breakfast burritos and corn bread and steaks and apple turnovers and ...

Anyway, back to Martha and George. I figured I could just roast the potatoes in the oven, which I'd never done, but please, how hard could it be? Aren't they pretty?

I whipped up Martha's favorite vinaigrette. It was pretty easy and basic, white wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt, pepper, pinch of sugar and olive oil. I really need more measuring spoons. Put that in container and popped it in the fridge. Then it was time to tackle the marinade for the chicken. One tablespoon of olive oil and two of the vinegar. Again, I need more measuring spoons. Now here is where I knew wine would not be wise when cooking today. Usually, I am very good about my prep. Chris trained me well. I do the chopping and all that before I start. Well, after I dumped the oil and vinegar into the baking dish, and looked at what I had to do next... garlic? thyme? Yeah... not chopped. WTF??! Where is my head?! And I hadn't had a drop to drink. That is what I get for not eating any protein all day. ARGH!

I snapped off three cloves of garlic and ... shit!!! The vinaigrette called for garlic, too! FOUR cloves. (In my defense, I made the vinaigrette correctly, the garlic is one of the four or five "add-on" flavor options Martha offers you. She's so versatile.)

I felt like Giada with the Big Head, peeling the thyme leaves right off the stems. Yep.. cooking right along I was...

Since the recipe called for cutlets, and I had breasts, I made them cutlets by cutting them in half horizontally. Very carefully and slowly, with the big knife, and popped them in the marinade. Then I washed my hands thoroughly, which is important when working with raw chicken. And, unlike Paula Deen, I removed my rings beforehand. I love her, but God only knows what lurks in those rocks of hers....

Again, no grill for the asparagus. I could have steamed them like I usually do, but my cast iron skillet rocks, and gave them a nice bit of burn. So kind of like grilled...

Or slightly charred. Just call it extra flavor.

My George Foreman is not huge, so I had to cook in waves, but since they were cutlets, they cooked right up in no time. Now, if I had been grilling at home with my dad, he could have put it all on at once, but you have to watch him. When you take the raw stuff out to him, you have to stand right there and snap the plate away. If you don't, he'll put the cooked food right on top of the raw food plate, or pour the old marinade all over it. You've got to watch him like a hawk.

The potatoes just got tossed with butter (again, real, unsalted butter) and the asparagus was tossed with a couple tablespoons of the vinaigrette. And then it was ready! My counter was covered in bowls, and my sink was piled with knives, measuring cups and spoons (well, not too many spoons...)

Can I just tell you, that it's now called Michelle's Favorite Vinaigrette. That stuff is so damn good, I drizzled a little on my potatoes, too. I almost did a shot of it. How does she do it?? She's Martha Stewart, Super Evil Genius!!!

Until next time, here is the Garlic-Marinated Chicken Cutlets with Grilled Potatoes play list. I need a glass of wine...

Explosions The Mary Onettes
Lava Lamp Duran Duran
The Girl I Knew Somewhere The Monkees (oh yeah, you read that right!)
Me and Paul Willie Nelson
If I Could Turn Back Time Cher
Spinning the Wheel George Michael
Looking For a New Love Jody Watley
Add it Up Violent Femmes
June Bug B-52s
Telescope Graham Colton
Around the World in a Day Prince and the Revolution
Just Like a Pill Pink
Glamorous Fergie (I know, I know..)
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road Elton John (It'll take you a couple of vodker and tonics to set you on your feet again...mmmm voddy tonics...)
They Dance Alone Sting
I Feel Fine The Beatles
Love Doesn't Last Too Long The Weepies
Talking to my Angel Melissa Etheridge
Pop Life Prince and the Revolution
Valotte Julian Lennon
Everybody Knows Concrete Blonde (Hey, this was on the last list, too!)

Knee-High by the 4th of July

2009-05-27T21:51:00.040-04:00

Corn, that is. Well, not quite. I mean, I know it isn't in Bingo-town, but it probably is here in south Florida. Or wherever they got the corn that was at my Publix. Why was I buying corn, you ask....

I need a project, and thanks to Martha Stewart (did I just say that?), I found one. I get her Everyday Food magazine every month (shout out to Chris!!), and last time I went to Costco for "just water," I found this book.

I was inspired. It's broken down by seasons, so I made a vow that after I came back from my Atlanta trip, I would make at least one recipe a week, starting with summer, until I had made them all. (ED NOTE if it's a recipe for lamb or veal, which I don't eat, I will substitute a recipe from the magazine.)

Any-who... the first recipe of the summer is.... Creamy Corn Soup!! It has four ingredients. Corn, salt, butter and water. Well, five if you count your garnish of choice (I went with scallions). And I get to use my fancy pot!

You will get some strange looks buying 16 ears (!?!) of corn at the store. I will be the first to tell you, by the way, I have no idea what I am looking for when it comes to buying corn. I mean, you pull the skin...no...that's not right... HUSK away a little and what?? I didn't see any bugs, so it went in the bag. This is what 16 ears of corn looks like:

I suppose I could have bought frozen, but that is not the Martha way, so it's not mine either. Plus, I love to cook. Love the prep work, love the chopping, love the smells. Love it all. Well, except the clean up. Someone else can do that part. I just plug my iPod in, put it on shuffle, and I'm off (Today's song list to follow). So I started to shuck 16 ears of corn.

This is the glass of wine I had to pour when I realized that shucking corn was not fun:

Notice I had done FIVE out of 16. No wonder our parents made us do that when we were kids. It's the shit job. And even shittier when there is no promise of spiedies and salt potatoes later, am I right Bingo-town people??!?

So I shucked on, sometimes using an ear as a microphone to sing, sing out loud. Which was a little awkward when Darling Nikki came on, but it's Price, so I belted it out! When all were shucked and done, I had to cut all the kernels off the ears. Thank you Jenny, for letting me take back my massive pasta bowl, because it was perfect for this task.

You'll notice the rather large chef's knife there. I started with that. Well, I held it in one hand, with an ear standing up on end in the other. While I have exchanged pleasantries with the county sheriff that lives below me, I didn't think our first real meeting should be me pounding on his door, sliced off fingers in (the other) hand, asking him how much first aid he knew....

So a much smaller knife it was.

Next up, pureeing. Here, I am a step in front of Martha, because I have an immersion blender. You just smoosh it in, press the button and BZZZZZZZZZZZ. OK, that doesn't sound right at all, so here is a picture.

And here is the glass of wine I had to pour after cleaning BZZZZZZZZZ'd corn off the cabinets. And the wall.

Thank God for Lysol wipes. And cotton shirts that can go right in the wash. Is that corn in my hair?!?! (COOKING TIP: It's called an immersion blender for a reason. Keep it immersed.

Now it's time to cook! First add the butter. Four tablespoons of it, cut into little pieces. First off, when cooking, I always use real butter. That fake stuff is fine to make a grilled cheese, but seriously, real butter. And always unsalted (another shout out to Chris!). I had part of a stick that was a little more than 4 Tbsp., so, to honor another cooking icon, I put it all in. (Love you, Paula Deen!!)

As the soup was cooking, I thought... hmm... a tablespoon of salt is really not much seasoning to go with. I like a little kick. Sooooo.... in honor of Paige (my other cooking guru).....

there is some of the black pepper and red pepper I added. Sorry Martha, but I have to live my own life, and some like it HOT!

And so here it is, the finished product. I served it along with a salad (I need some light meals after the beer and food filled weekend that was my trip to the ATL). I must say, the pepper blend added a nice bite.

1 down, 249 to go. It's on, Martha. On like Donkey Kong!

As promised, this is the Creamy Corn Soup playlist
Everyday I Write the Book Elvis Costello
Banditos The Refreshments
More Than Words Extreme (I know, I know...)
Darling Nikki Prince (again, awkward when shucking corn. But it's PRINCE!!!)
I've Got a New Girl Now Honeymoon Suite
Goodnight, Goodnight Maroon 5
Hunter Dido
Something to Save George Michael (ah, my boy, George)
Last Man Standing Duran Duran (ah, Simon.......)
This is the Time Billy Joel
Computer Blue Price (Purple Rain again!! Rock it Prince!)
Sell, Sell, Sell Barenaked Ladies
Time After Time Cyndi Lauper
I Want Your Sex George Michael (again, awkward when working with corn)
Be With You The Bangles
Everybody Knows Concrete Blonde (love, love, LOVE her voice)
Like the Way I Do Melissa Etheridge (ROCK STAR!!!!)
Shoo-Bee-Doo Madonna (That's right, I kick it old school)
Nothing Lasts Forever Maroon 5
Last Dance Donna Sommer (Nope, not done cooking, but almost!!)
One Week Barenaked Ladies
She's to Good For Me Sting
Strip Adam Ant
Foolin Def Leppard
Living in Twilight The Weepies
This is Where it Ends Barenaked Ladies (Almost done!!!)
Anotherloverholenyohead Prince (I know, he takes up lots of iPod space)
Pancho & Lefty Willie Nelson & Merle Haggard

And dinner was served!!!!

The Hippie Shuffle

2009-02-23T18:39:00.003-05:00

Once upon a time there were two little hippies named Helen and Jenny. They would write on my Facebook wall at 3 or 4 in the morning, after an evening (or two or three) of doing the hippie shuffle to the endless songs of their favorite jam bands, begging for a blog about them (the hippies, not the jam bands).

Well, fine, my little hippie dippies. This one is for you.

Hippie Helen and Hippie Jenny are what I would call "girlie" hippies in that they don't reek of patchouli and they are very familiar with razors. But when Widespread comes to town, all bets are off as they go tripping into the dark Georgia night. Or North Carolina night. Or Tennessee night. Wherever the jam band is, you will find them.

Jenny is my sister. She rang in the year 2000 camping in the Everglades for three days watching Phish. I welcomed Y2K in a fancy Charlotte hotel with Chris wondering where the hell room service was with our cheeseburger and Bloody Marys. Laugh if you want, but at 2 a.m., that combination sounded like a great idea! They never did show up either, those order-taking bastards…..But I digress..You see how we are different...

It was Helen’s birthday, and I went over to their apartment for dinner before we went out to celebrate. When I got there, Jenny proudly showed me the little birthday cake she had made. Little being the operative word, as it was barely the size of my hand.
Jenny: See the cake I made?
Me: Cute. Did you make that in your Easy Bake oven?
Jenny: You go to hell. (Apparently it was a just-add-water microwave cake.)

Ah, feel the love. That was September. December rolled around, and for Christmas I got Jenny, what else, an Easy Bake oven. Because, I said, my birthday was coming up and I too wanted a tiny cake. Again, I believe I was told to go to hell. I never did get my tiny cake...I think she still has the oven though. So there is still hope.

Helen was one of my first friends in Atlanta. She had played softball with Jenny in college, so I looked her up when I got to town. We used to hit LuLu’s Bait Shack hard. We had so many fishbowls, I am honestly surprised I don’t have any of the plastic alligators anymore. They used to be everywhere. Helen used to like to be me $1 to talk to random boys.

Helen: I’ll give you a dollar if you go talk to that boy over there.
Me: OK.

Me to random boy: You see that girl over there with the curly hair?
Random: yeah.
Me: She likes your sweater.

And then I would go collect my dollar from an irritated Helen. “That wasn’t what you were supposed to do.” She said talk to them, I talked to them. It didn’t stop her from handing over her dollar bills to me weekend after weekend.

And here is the story Helen insisted I include: I was living with Cindy and Trisha on Windy Hill, and we had a party. The layout of our apartment was such that you could only get to the back porch through my bedroom. So of course, people were through my room all night, hanging out on the porch. Helen came late, as there was some sort of Grateful Dead Jerry Garcia tribute hippie ho-down that she had to go to first. And when she showed up, she did not come alone. No, she brought a big fat hippie with her. And he had THOROUGHLY enjoyed the show.
Me: So was Jerry there?
Big Fat Hippie: No, he’s dead.
Me: But could you feel him there?
BFH: YES! The music was flying in my face.
Me: That’s great. Why don’t you step outside on the porch and get some air.. hey, wait, what are you doing? Helen!!! Get your big hippie friend off my bed!!!!

Served me right, I guess. I think I had to wash my pillowcase more than once to get the hippie stink out of it.

So there you go, my precious hippie dippies. A blog all your own. And thank you for the invite, Helen, but I will not be heading to Bonnaroo this year. Unless I missed a memo about hell freezing over that weekend. But take your laptop, and feel free to write on my Facebook wall anytime. If you can keep the music out of your face, that is……

Color me Fabulous

2009-01-31T23:19:00.004-05:00

I have had a crappy week. I had my heart bruised by a bad man, and have been trying to shake off that funky mood.

How do you mend a bruised heart, you ask? You pamper yourself like the goddess you are.

With a gift card firmly in hand, I headed off to Gilded Spa and Salon in Palm Beach Gardens. First up was an hour-long massage. I thought it was going to be aromatherapy, but it was not. But honestly, I was so relaxed and Humberto's hands were magic, so I didn't make a fuss. I just laid there quietly while he worked out the stress I always store in my shoulders. At one point, I almost dozed off.

Then it was off to the salon side for a pedicure. She wrapped my legs in hot towels and buffed my heels smooth. And there was Champagne! And cookies! I could not help but smile at how decadent I felt, spoiling myself. I need to do that more often!!

So, am I still blue? Yes, admittedly, a little. But now, so are my toes (Chanel Blue Satin, to be specific).

And like me, they are fabulous.

Single White Female looking for a fight!

2009-01-21T21:10:00.011-05:00

Working at a magazine, I get a lot of press releases. About 75 percent of them, really, are not a fit for my magazine. We have a little chuckle about disposable litter boxes, painted toilet seats and $10 jewelry. But one came across my desk today that struck a chord. A big, red, angry chord.

I am single. And, this might come a surprise to all the paired up people who ask me if I’m dating anyone before they ask after my health, but I enjoy my life. And I know you’ve forgotten, married friends, but it’s hard to meet the right person. It really is. You have to kiss a lot of frogs. I know. I’ve kissed more than my share. And some toads. And even, unfortunately, a snake or two. It’s all really a big crap shoot, but it’s a chance you’ve got to take, right?

Well, according to the release I got today, I should be miserable. I am single, and Valentine’s Day is coming up. I’ll have to endure seeing happy couples, red hearts and flowers all around. Oh, what are we supposed to do to get us through that day? Apparently, our only options as singletons on Valentine’s Day is to sit home alone feeling sorry for ourselves or go out and try to meet someone (because on Valentine’s Day, bars are obviously crawling with single men). But it’s oh so hard to pick up just the right stranger in a bar… However can we tell if someone truly is our soul mate right then and there? The exact person we’ve been looking for all along…

Are you ready for it?

Because I wasn’t…

Single Bands. Yes, that is right, Single Bands, a new line of color-coded wrist wear (rubber bracelets) which help singles find a match in a “simple and funny way.” Each color indicates the wearer’s status:
Blue: never been married (spinster)
Green: divorcées (failure at at least one relationship)
Purple and orange: gay/lesbian and bisexual, respectively (or purple means you support Lupus research. My friend Nancy wears one for that. Better be sure before you hit on someone in a purple bracelet, you could get a sock in the eye!)
Pink: you are living with someone (Then why the hell are you out looking to meet people, perv?)
Yellow: you are separated (not yet divorced, again, why are you out trying to meet people?)
Red: a widower (I don’t know what color a widow would wear, that is not listed. You poor things.)

But then there is more, and this is confusing, because it repeats colors. The Single Bands package includes bands that specify what the wearer is looking for in a prospective mate:
Red: for romantic (I thought it was for widower. But not widows. They get no color)
Green: for educated (educated divorcées?)
Orange: for “I’m into people of all races.” (or “I am bisexual.”)

Either way, you could end up with a stack of bracelets up to your elbow, announcing to the world that you’ll take anything and anyone, or that you support a lot of causes. If that is the case, then good on you!

This is all the brainchild of a woman named Cathy Hill. She sees it as a simple way to meet people without being set up by friends. “I have been divorced,” she says. “I tried dating online and would never recommend it.” Indeed, the best inventions are born out of frustration.

Well she frustrates me. To the point where I want to fight her!!! I physically want to beat her up. And I’ve never been in a fight before. I have very dainty wrists. I am sure one would snap if I landed any kind of punch. But she makes me that mad.

It’s hard to meet someone, so her brilliant idea is to “tag” us like water buffaloes on Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom? I am sure that will make meeting someone so much easier. You just walk in, hold up your arm for the world to see, and just wait for the soul mates to come crawling toward you. Oh, that sounds like lots of fun. And helpful. Why talk to someone when you could instantly know everything there is to know by the rubbers on his wrist.

I’ve got a better idea. Load up your arm with fancy bangles (Unless you’re a guy. Guys should not wear fancy bangles. Unless you want to. I don’t judge.), grab your other single girlfriends and get out there and have fun and enjoy being single! You never know who you might meet. Hopefully you aren’t wearing matching fancy bangles.

On a side note, if this freak really wants to make a go of tagging people with bracelets, she should make them actually helpful and informative:
Red for "evil shrew"
Gray for "has no job and lives in his parents’ basement"
Gold for "already married," and that should be around your finger.
Burnt Orange for "bitter with baggage"
Black for "self-absorbed jackass"
And blue for "bad kisser." A bad kisser is a non-negotiable.
And I should know. I've kissed a lot of frogs.

Doctor, doctor

2009-01-17T20:41:00.006-05:00

I hate going to the doctor. It honestly terrifies me. I'm 38, and the thought of even getting my finger pricked still makes me want to cry a little. I've never been good with doctors, I screamed when I was little and I whimper now. So I can imagine how my mother dreaded taking me. But I sympathize with her a little bit.

Because today I took the cat to the vet.

Now I sympathize with Daphne too, doctors are scary. But at least I know why I have to go. All she knows is she gets crammed in her carrier, only to be pulled out by a stranger who pries her mouth open and sticks a thermometer up her bum. As you can imagine, this does not go over well, much to the vet's shock and my embarrassment as Daphne lunges for their throat (or nose, or hand, whichever body part is closer).

At least it's over quick.

In fact, it's getting her there in the first place that is a well-choreographed dance of skill and timing. Allow me to present my instructions on how to get a cat to the vet.

1. I can not stress this one enough. DO NOT take the cat carrier from its storage place until you are 100% ready to walk out the front door. Trust me.

2. Remain calm and be cool. Cats are smart. They sense fear and they sense a plot. On the day you are going to the vet, play it cool as you get ready. Don't show your nervousness. They will know something is up and immediately hide under the bed.

3. When you are 100% ready to leave the house (and not one minute before, I mean it, your teeth need to be brushed, if you need a coat, put it on), make sure the cat is in a public area and then close off all bedrooms. Because once you bring the carrier out, you have a limited window of opportunity to grab the cat and get her in it. Because once they see it, they will run and try to hide. It's important that all bedroom doors are closed. If the cat goes under the bed, game over. You might as well call the vet and say you're going to be late, or you're not coming. A cat will always be just out of your reach under a bed. And they have teeth and claws in case you happen to grab a leg. I have actually had to lift the mattress and box spring up to get Daphne out from under the bed. It's not fun.

4. When you go to grab them, just grab them. You are the boss, and if you advance slowly, they will bolt and find a place to hide. They are quick movers. I recommend a carrier that opens up on the top, rather than just on the front. Gravity is on your side, as it is much easier to drop in than shove in.

5. Now for the car ride. Prepare yourself for the worst noises you have ever heard. EVER. Sounds you can not believe are coming from the small creature beside you. I swear, the military could use a recording of Daphne in the car instead of water boarding. It's that bad. Consoling her does not help, and ignoring her just makes it louder and more bizarre sounding.

6. Pray it's not a busy dog day at the vet, because you will have to wait and dogs are curious. Hopefully you can find a chair off to the side, away from traffic, quietly holding the carrier in your lap. Last time I took her in, it was dogs on parade! Daphne is already having an anxiety attack, and I get some giant Great Dane poking its nose up against her carrier. Hissing, swiping, and the owner looks at me like my cat is a rabid raccoon. (The same thing happens if lots of kids are there.)

7. Once in the exam room, I open the carrier, and let her sniff around a bit. Usually she just stays in the carrier. Hell to get her in, and a pain to get her out when the vet comes in. And I just stand there and hold my breath, waiting for Daphne to lunge and rip the vet's face open. Thankfully this has never happened, but there is always a lot of hissing, growling and dirty looks. And the last vet who got right down in her face to check her teeth should thank his lucky stars he was blessed with quick reflexes.

Back in the carrier, which is much easier to do in the vet's office, more growling in the car, and we're home like nothing ever happened. Sigh.

I love her to death, don't get me wrong. But I am so glad this only has to happen once a year. I don't know if my nerves could take it. Which reminds me, I'm due for a physical....

No Smoking, Please

2009-01-17T13:29:00.003-05:00

I just found out that Tim Bentley, my former boss at Business to Business, magazine in Atlanta, died. He was 55.

He apparently had been sick a long time with breathing and pulmonary problems brought on by years of smoking.

Tim was funny and crabby, an old-school journalist with plenty of stories to tell about his time rolling with politicians and the like. I am sad that he is gone, and that he got so sick.

When I first started working with him, he would chew nicotine gum all day. But still go for smoke breaks. "I thought your were trying to quit," I said, since he was chewing the gum.

"I chew the gum because I can't smoke at my desk," he said.

I don't want to be a hypocrite, because I have smoked a few cigarettes myself. But if you are a smoker, please try and quit. And if you don't smoke, don't start.

Because I am sure you are funny and crabby, with plenty of stories still left to tell.

Is this your porn?

2009-01-10T20:22:00.006-05:00

This week, three friends brought up the weirdest story if not of all time, the weirdest one in the past few weeks. Jumping in at the end of the bailout breadline rolls Larry Flynt and Joe Francis, saying they are going to ask the government for a $5-billion bailout for the porn industry.

Now, my reaction to this was that I wouldn't think the porn industry would ever be in trouble. Come on, it's never going out of business! To quote my cousin, "Naked women drive men crazy." People will always find money for porn. Hell, there are probably people who skip lunch to have a little cash to buy a tittie magazine. Or they could eat lunch at the tittie bar, and kill two birds with one stone.

Personally, I think these two douche bags should put their energy toward making porn better. We are an intelligent society. We deserve a little more (no pun intended) meat to our porn. Give us something more than what we can see for free on VH-1! More bang for our buck, so to speak.

All of this reminded me of something that happened to me a few years ago, when I was still living in Atlanta. We had lived in our apartment for a couple years. I was home one night, and the cat started going nuts. A moth had gotten in. Moths are not only fun playthings for a cat, apparently they also are magically delicious. So she started chasing it around, and into the kitchen, where counter jumping was attempted. Kitchen counter jumping is NOT ALLOWED, so I stepped in and tried to find said moth.

I dragged over a chair to climb onto the counter myself to see if it was on top of the cabinets (which did not reach the ceiling, allowing for some extra storage space). I looked up, and there it was.

Not the moth. A videotape. Tossed into the corner. Covered in dust. Next to my Santa Claus Merry Christmas cookie tray. I picked it up. Show and Tell it was called.

I stood there on the kitchen counter, looking around like I was on Candid Camera. I knew what it was, but of course went right to the VCR and popped it in, still looking around like a camera crew was going to bust in any minute yelling "Gotcha!"

And there it was. A worn-out looking groupie and a hairband reject banging up against black lacquer furniture. And then a shot that looked like something out of a video you might see at your girly doctor.

This is supposed to be hot? Two unattractive people smearing across tacky furniture intermixed with an instructional video? I had to stop it. Horrified, I of course called Chris, "You will not believe what I found in my kitchen!!!"

Then the front door opened and my sister walked in, on her cell phone... "Is this your porn???" I asked, holding the video in the air. With eyes like saucers, she said, "I gotta go.... " as she slowly hung up her phone. Then looked at me like I asked her if this was her jar of ground up babies. "NO!"

So, if you lived in AMLI @ Spring Creek about seven years ago, I am sorry to say that I threw away your cheap porn, which for some reason you left in the kitchen.

I am sure whoever it was has since purchased more to replace it.

You're welcome Larry and Joe. Glad I could do my part.

And you can dance...

2009-01-06T23:08:00.002-05:00

Happy New Year! My resolution this year was not to lose weight (I'm already in Weight Watchers, and tonight I lost another pound--6 more to go!). Although I do want to do more weight machines at the gym in addition to the treadmill.

No, I resolved to write on this blog everyday. The blog that I have neglected since September, and was not very good at writing on it to start with. See, unlike my friend Paige, who had an AWESOME blog (and who needs to start another one, because she is fabulous), I am nervous about sharing too much on the Internet, or having my thoughts looked at as stupid or boring. Because, let's face it, not much happens here in South Florida. At least not at #8425. Don't get me wrong. I am loving it here. This was the best career decision I have ever made. And the weather can not be beat! And I have met some of the best people.

And I got to spend New Year's Eve at the most beautiful wedding I have ever been at (with all apologies to those whose beautiful weddings I have attended).

Then I spent the entire weekend addicted to VH-1 Classic. They are actually still playing 2009 for 2009, an alphabetical buffet of MTV when MTV was all we had, and all they had was videos. Madonna! Prince! Wham! Crowded House! Haircut 100! Classics, one-hit wonders. And, being as a lot of it was from the 80s, one-hit wonders that are classics! Oh, it took me back. Back to when all the boys from Duran Duran were still hot (Well, Simon, John and Nick STILL look good. Roger and Andy were always, well.. talented). When my boy, George Michael, was hot AND straight!! (Again, still hot)

Yes, these videos are cheesy. Hell, some of these artists should have just stuck to radio, if you follow me, but they are all so great! The cheesy pop! The cheesy dance! And, of course, the hair bands!!!! Come on, someone with hair this big can't NOT love hair bands. Julie and I talked all weekend about how great a lot of that music still is.

(As a side note, I can actually claim a little connection to a hair band! My mom taught math. One of her students was Fred Coury. Fred Coury was (is?) the drummer for Cinderella. Nobody's Fool, indeed)

Speaking of cheesy hair bands, that brings me to how I wound up my holiday weekend. Tuning in to season three of Bret Michaels, Rock of Love 3 (the whole time, on the phone with Paige so we could be horrified together). He's taking them on tour this year, so they really know what his life is like, hopping from has-been rock festival to Indian casino and back again. I like to call this season Skanks on a Bus. Because they are traveling on a bus and, well.... Yes, this season is definitely the high (or low) water mark when it comes to the type of "lady" willing to do what she has to do to win the love of one Bret Michaels. He does love the Steelers, I gotta respect that. But Bret obviously has a type. And that type is skank whore. Or cheap airport strip bar pole dancer.

I don't know if it is the Botox or the hair plugs or the makeup (that he is still sporting) or his dye-a-bee-tus (that is how he pronounces it) that has so radically affected his eyesight, but Bret looked upon the "ladies" (using this term so loosely) and pronounced them all "smokin' hot." I am sure it's a matter of opinion. I fancy the men myself, but can, I think, judge an attractive woman. So if his idea of "smokin' hot" means gallons of bleach, more silicone than is probably legal, Botox, piercings and (WOW) multiple tats, then yes, these "ladies" are smokin' hot. Although some of them looked like actual transsexuals (not that there is anything wrong with that), this season has a special mix! There is an actual porn star (he recognized her from her films), a Penthouse Pet (who really might be one of the classy girls) and a "lady" who actually aspires to be a whore. That was her introduction. "Hi, I'm Natasha, and I want to be a madam." In Canada. I did not know that our neighbors to the north had more lenient laws, but I gotta figure that if you admit to wanting to start a prostitution ring on national TV, your passport has probably been flagged.

But what do I know? I am just a simple magazine editor, living in South Florida and enjoying all that has to offer.

Sticky Fingers

2008-09-08T20:42:00.002-04:00

I started relatively small. Just a little here and there. But then it got to be all the time. I've slowed down in the past year, but the temptation is always there.

I steal pint glasses from bars. I can't help it. It's a compulsion.

It started at a bar in Bingo-town. We would sit at the bar, and the glasses were just there. Right at my level. I didn't even have to reach over, just had to wait until the bartender turned his back. So it was a shot glass here, a brandy snifter there. It was better in the winter, when we all had our big coats on. Deep pockets are perfect for a pint glass or two.

Pint glasses are fun. They're like souvenirs, or a five-finger gift with purchase. I had a great Genesee one that I got from some total dive bar in Bingo. Bill and Chris had to carry the contents of my purse so I could fit the one from the Red Chair in my little black bag. I couldn't drink my Smithwick's fast enough to get the cobalt blue Labatt's glass in my work bag. And I pulled my over the bar reach to snag a PBR one from Moe's & Joe's. While I was on a date. (It wasn't going that well anyway. Burn the bad date bridge, right Nancy!)

But bars are getting wise to me. They're using plain glasses. What fun is that? Don't get me wrong, I'm not hanging up my my sticky fingers just yet. That shelf in my cupboard still has some space to fill. Sorry Jamar, but I just can't help myself.

Save the Ta-Tas!

2008-08-28T23:53:00.005-04:00

My doctor in Atlanta told me to do it twice. And I put it off. Then my new doctor here in Florida told me to do it, and printing out a prescription for it.

Fine. I'll do it. So I made the appointment for my very first mammogram. What a drag it is getting old. Yay!

I went on Wednesday. Everyone was very nice. They give you special stickers. I felt like a dancer at the Cheetah! It was over quick. I am not going to say it wasn't uncomfortable. And I never knew one could maneuver boobies in such a fashion. But it was done, and it went well.

So well if fact that they want me to come back again for another one. They just can't get enough of my boobs. Well, just the left one. There is apparently a asymmetric density in there that they want a better look at. So I get to have an ultrasound, too. Good times.

It's going to be OK. But please, if you get a chance, send out a positive thought for me. I'd hate for anything to happen to my left boob. It's one of my favorites.

Since 1920! Sisters unite!!

2008-08-26T23:11:00.003-04:00

I just watched Hillary Clinton give a fabulous speech, urging Democrats and Americans to vote for change, vote for what's right and vote for Barack Obama. She's the first female candidate for president that almost made it. I find that sad, since it's 2008. But we've come a long way, baby.

88 years today in fact!

Night of the Iguana

2008-08-25T22:14:00.006-04:00

Or, really, the minute of the lizard.

I live in the land of lizards. They are all over. They are the unseen rustling in the bushes as you walk down the sidewalk. Or they just sit there, almost daring you to step on them before scuttling off. Some are so little, you don't even notice them until they rush away from your oncoming feet. Some are so big, I think they are more closely related to alligators than they are.

But they don't bother me. They scuttle away, or sit there on the sidewalk, watching me pull into a parking spot. The only thing that scares me about them is that one of them will somehow get into the apartment, and I'll have to clean up the remnants of the food chain.

I was leaving my complex on the way to work one recent morning. I was actually dropping off the car at the shop, and getting a ride from there with a coworker. I was right on time. And then, waiting at the stop sign behind a couple other cars, waiting to pull out on to the main drag, I saw it. Right in the middle of my hood was a lizard, staring back at me. He looked puzzled as to why the "ground" beneath him was moving.

I think I might have yelped. It was almost my turn to pull out onto the road where I would go at speeds up to 60 miles an hour (OK, fine. 70). I couldn't, with a clean conscious, let that lizard go flying off my hood, probably into the windshield of the car behind me. We locked eyes. I knew what I had to do.

I rolled out on to Northlake, much slower than I usually do, and eased over to the right lane, so I could pull into the first U-turn area of the median. That 200 feet was probably the longest of that lizard's life. He flattened himself on the hood as I accelerated to 30. Finally, I could pull over.

I jumped out of my car with an old parking lot ticket in my hand. I reached out to scoot the lizard toward the ground and safety. He jumped to the headlight. I scooted him with the card again.

AND THEN HE JUMPED ON ME.

I tried to scoot him off my leg, and he jumped higher. The dance I performed on the side of the road was probably quite entertaining to passersby. He got as high as my boob. My goal was to keep him out of my hair. Because if that happened, he'd be stuck in that mess all day. He finally jumped back on the car before finally leaping to the ground.

And so I was late meeting Sue at the shop. But I saved a life. And I hadn't even eaten breakfast yet.

George Michael is my God

2008-08-06T22:02:00.019-04:00

"I won't let you down, I will not give you up."

I'd been looking forward to it for months. I joined the fan club so I could buy tickets early, my hands shaking when that day arrived, and I became the proud owner of two tickets to see the man I fell in love with when I was 15.

My friend Paige was going to come down from Atlanta for the show. I was very excited to see her, since it had been almost a year. But less than a week before the show, Paige got the trifecta of ear, nose and throat ick, and couldn't fly. Well, the doctor said she shouldn't fly. But, she really couldn't. We were sad, and she was missed.

My friend Trisha was able to step in at the last minute, thankfully, and it was off to the show!

As a little nod to our teenage years, when George's face stared out at me from my bedroom wall, I thought, what could be more perfect to toast the occasion than what we used to drink then! I couldn't believe they still sold them. Yep. Exotic Berry wine coolers from Bartles & Jaymes (Oh, if only they had had the original flavor). Well, we forgot the cooler, naturally, so we had to swing by Publix and settle for Seagram's Berry. Warm. Good times. (On a side note, those things only have 4% alcohol. I think Nyquil might have more. Do you even need to be 21 to buy them?)

Once inside, the people watching began. (well, it started in the parking lot, it just got better inside.) People's idea of concert attire is almost as good as what they consider airplane travel attire.

And then the room went dark, and the crowd started screaming. A light display on stage started, looking like falling rain and stars while George sang "Waiting" from the Listen Without Prejudice album. Then he got to the line, "Here I am!" The stage lit up red, and the man himself appeared.

We all leaped to our feet and didn't sit down for the rest of the show. After a not so brief moment where he enjoyed the adulation from the crowd, he went right in to "Fast Love" and "I'm Your Man." And then, he made my night complete by singing "Father Figure," my favorite George Michael song. EVER.

This was the last show of the tour, so George said we got the party show. And it certainly lived up to the hype. The show was full of old and new favorites, from WHAM! hit "Everything She Wants," songs from Faith like "Hard Day" and, well, you've got to have "Faith." His new songs were met with the same enthusiasm as the old favorites. I love "Amazing," and "An Easier Affair." When he sang "Outside," somehow he was suddenly dressed like a cop. He must have been wearing stripper rip-away clothes over that get-up. It's a little blurry, but it looked like this.

At one point, George apologized for his voice, as he had caught some sinus thing (hmm... and he had just been in Atlanta. Conisidense, Paige?) But did he lip sync? No he certainly did not! He belted out those songs, and showed off his moves, working the crowd into a screaming mass. At a few points, he held up the mike and let us sing a verse, since everyone was already singing along with him. I know I was.

He finished up with two encores. The first was a flawless "Careless Whisper," and then he came back out and asked what we wanted to hear. We all screamed "Freedom!" And that was how it ended. He didn't let us down, and he didn't give us up. This tour was a thank you to his fans for 25 years of support. It was the best "thank you" card I've ever gotten.

This made me bawl

2008-07-30T21:01:00.001-04:00

For anyone who loves animals, this is a beautiful story.

Thank you for being a friend

2008-07-22T20:54:00.001-04:00

Actually, she was my top "friend."
Godspeed Estelle Getty. You were one funny old broad.

We will rock you

2008-07-13T14:12:00.002-04:00

July 13, 1985. I was riding in the car back from vacation in Cape Cod. And the greatest musical event of all time was taking place in London and Philadelphia. But we had to listen to baseball on the radio. Thankfully, we got home in time to catch the tail end of London and the rest of the Philadelphia sets. It was glorious.

I got the DVD set from Live Aid when it came out, so I could relive all the moments. U2 with Bono rocking a wicked mullet (still a God). Madonna singing "Holiday," Mick Jaggar and Tina Turner belting out "It's Only Rock and Roll," Phil Collins playing London, boarding the Concord and playing again in Philly.

Amazing that Bob Geldof hadn't wanted it recorded at all. Thank God MTV and other outlets didn't follow the rules. If they had, we wouldn't have this. Arguably the best set of the entire show. Freddie Mercury commanded the attention of every person in the audience, and Queen's set still gives me goosebumps!

Me look pretty one day

2008-07-12T21:28:00.005-04:00

The package arrived while I was out of town. When I finally got my hands on it, I giggled with delight. Pulling at the tape of the box, anxious to see the treasures inside. I finally got it open and there they were. Three beautiful new compacts.

Call me crazy, but I think one of my simple little pleasures is the first time I use new makeup. The white sponge of the applicator sweeps across the virgin color. Yes, I am a girly girl. I love makeup. Love it.

I still remember discovering my mother's makeup in the bathroom. It was a pink Mary Kay compact, full of different colored eye shadows. There was something about the color, the smell of the makeup that just had me hooked. I itched to try it out. I've been hooked ever since. My first eye shadow of my very own was from Maybelline. There were three colors, all shades of purple. I had seen it in Young Miss magazine (when YM was still called Young Miss).

There were some definite lows in the late 80s, when bright colors were in. For some reason, I thought the brightest blue eyeliner was a perfect match for electric blue mascara. Then again, I thought I looked good with blond hair. Another lesson learned.

Today I have a drawer filled with powders and shadows. Tuges of lipstick and bottles of nail polish or toe polish, as I call it, since I don't paint my finger nails.

I don't know what it is about makeup that makes it a borderline addiction, but it probably has something to do with a need to be pretty. Growing up, I never felt like I was pretty enough. I always thought the other girls I went to school with were so much prettier. The boys liked them better. I wore glasses and had braces and unruly hair. I felt awkward standing next to them. Like an ugly, invisible duckling.

The braces came off, and I got contacts. (The hair, however, remained unruly.) Using makeup became a way for me to try and level the playing field. To try and turn a sow's ear into some sort of purse, even if it wasn't necessarily a silk one. I felt better about the way I looked. I still felt invisible and not necessarily good enough, but at least I had pretty blue eyelashes.

(as a side note, I would just like to say that I have known some beautiful girls who were absolutely hideous people. I know beauty is only skin deep. I like to think of myself as a good person on the inside, I just want the outside to look nice too)

Don't get me wrong. I am far from Tammy Faye in my love of makeup. Sensitive skin and super sensitive eyes have greatly limited what I can and can't use. I remember the day Mr. Louie, who used to cut my hair (until he butchered it!!!), dragged me over to a makeup table and put under-eye concealer on me. I stared at myself in the mirror. I was actually pretty! "I'll take whatever it was you just used." I said slowly, praying quietly I wouldn't leave there looking like I had smoked at least two bongs.

New products are always approached with longing and hope that they won't cause my eyes to freak out or my face to get blotchy (wow, I sound more attractive by the minute, don't I?!). I love to experiment with colors. In spite of what Almay thinks (damn my sensitive eyes), not all people with blue eyes wear the same colors. When I find something that doesn't cause a skin/eye emergency, I have a little mini celebration in my head. New products! Oh the joy of it! Call me vain, but I feel like that little girl looking at her mother's Mary Kay eye shadows all over again. But prettier.

God, I miss Deadwood

2008-06-25T21:21:00.001-04:00

Seven dirty words you can't say on television:
Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker and Tits.

Godspeed George Carlin.

My Kind of Town

2008-06-23T21:07:00.003-04:00

We ran a story about 5-star restaurants in Chicago.

One of my new Domino magazines featured a story on adorable shops in different neighborhoods of Chicago.

Our IT guy is on vacation this week. In Chicago.

Last night at the gym, the TV was on ESPN, which was showing the Cubs home game. In Chicago.

I think the universe is trying to tell me something.

It was a year ago that I declared Chicago dead to me. I had just returned from a trip there to visit an old friend that turned out to be less than I expected (the trip and the friend). It actually didn't hit me until after I got back and was telling people about it, trying to play it up because even as I was describing it, it dawned on me how incredibly lame it was. I didn't see any sites. I didn't shop. I certainly didn't have any 5-star cuisine.

So I declared Chicago dead to me. And it has taken me a while to realize that it wasn't Chicago's fault. The city put its best foot forward. The weather was great. It should have been the perfect summer weekend. It wasn't Chicago's fault that it didn't turn out that way.

It's not Chicago's fault that even though I was asked what I liked to eat for breakfast (a bagel or an English muffin, I'm not picky), I had to root around a cupboard for an old box of crackers to sustain me until we got to a great sports bar in Wisconsin.

It's not Chicago's fault that I can't watch Groundhog Day anymore, because my tour of the town where it was filmed turned into a tour of every bar in town. And everyone who worked at every bar knew my host by name. He said it was like he was the mayor. Well, if Otis Campbell was the mayor then sure, why not. And, by coincidence, the Cubs were on the road in Atlanta, where I was living at the time. So the game was on the TVs in every bar. He took great pleasure in announcing to anyone who would listen what a huge Braves fan I was (I don't even like baseball). Because nothing makes a guest feel comfortable like riling up the home team.

It's not Chicago's fault I didn't go on a tour of Wrigley Field. I mean, why would I want to tour one of the most historic ball parks in the world when we could go sit at "world famous" Cubby Bear's across the street. Because bars in Wrigleyville on a Sunday afternoon when the Cubs are out of town are just an experience not to be missed! But, I guess as long as it serves Old Style, it counts as a tourist attraction.

It's not Chicago's fault that I didn't go to the top of the John Hancock Building. Why would I want to do that on a clear summer day, when we could search for a bar so world famous that five people he stopped in the street had no clue what he was talking about. I don't even remember the name of it.

But I do remember that right then, in the middle of the sidewalk on that beautiful summer day, was when my resentment started to grow. I suggested to my host that it might be possible that he had a drinking problem. I wasn't even half kidding, but he laughed it off and dragged me off toward a waitress mailing a letter, which led us to—you guessed it—the bar where she worked.

BUT, it's not Chicago's fault that he develops oddly personal relationships with anyone standing behind a bar.

By the time we left Chicago to drive back to his house, I was so ready to go home, I would have asked him to swing by the airport and drop me off if some of my favorite things weren't at his house, and some new things bought just for the trip. Although I was wearing my Keens at the time. Love those shoes. Yep, in my suitcase, up on a table, so hopefully the cats wouldn't pee on my stuff.

By the time I got home to Atlanta and described my trip to friends, I realized that I had taken time off work and gone out of town just to keep someone company on a two state pub crawl. That was apparently the whole plan, but I didn't find out until I had gotten there. All of the fun got sucked out in a haze of beer. If I had known, I would have stayed home. I could have done a pub crawl in Atlanta. At least then I could have slept in my own bed instead of one in a room that smelled like cat box.

But that isn't Chicago's fault. It was partly my fault. I had expectations of having a great time with someone I've known since Kindergarten. But, when I came home, I realized that I don't think that friend even exists anymore. He's been replaced by someone I call Drunky McFratboy, living life like every day is Spring Break and he just turned 21. Or maybe he's always been that person. When you only see someone once every two years, and talk sporadically on the phone, do you really know them? I am here to say no, probably not. We're two different people on two separate paths.

I guess I have Chicago to thank for figuring that out.

MAIL CALL

2008-06-16T18:21:00.004-04:00

It was a good mail day today. I got my latest (and last, I need to renew) issue of InStyle AND my new Obama bumper sticker and button!

The button is going right on my work bag, and the sticker is going right in the back window of my car.

GO OBAMA!!!!

I speak for my trees!

2008-06-15T18:06:00.006-04:00

So here is the other side of the picture I posted on Mother's Day, this time with my mom cropped out. Because today is all about my dad. (But aren't I still adorable?)

You can't tell from this picture, but that skinny little guy is quite the outdoors man. He likes to hunt and fish and just watch nature in all its glory. Until it infringes on his space.

They are up at the lake for the summer, and my dad has planted his little garden with I am sure tomatoes, zucchini, green beans and maybe cucumbers. He also has a something called a flower patch, where he has tossed wild flower seeds around to bloom. He spends his time tending his garden, mowing, fishing and generally driving my mom crazy because he can't sit still. The joys of retirement. All is well in Dickie's world, again, until nature infringes on his space. I called him last week, and he was particularly chatty, and then something caught his eye...

OH there’s a ... Hold on a minute....
(Silence.)
There was a little bunny that just hopped across my yard!
And you had to go watch it?
Well, I had to make sure it wasn’t another creature heading to my garden. It’s planted all nice and neat.
Like what? A rat?
I don’t know. But it hopped, so I knew it wasn’t a beaver.
I thought you had the beaver removed. (He did. It involved cages and game control.)
That was three years ago. I think another one has come in its place. I don’t want it eating my trees!
Well, that’s what beavers do.
I am looking out my window right now at millions of trees. Why does he eat mine?
Maybe you have tasty trees.
No, he eats the one that is right by the water, so he can have a nibble and then take a little swim while leisurely chewing on a branch.
That’s what beavers do. It’s just doing its beaver thing.
If it comes back again, I’m going to shoot it.
I really don’t think you are allowed to do that...
Well if I miss it and it turns me in, then I’ll worry about it.
I am quite sure that if you go out and shoot at a beaver, someone will call the police and say Dick Havich is out with a shot gun shooting at shit.
I wouldn’t use a shot gun.
(pause)
I would use a rifle.
Yes, well, whatever, I am sure there is some sort of rule about shooting things in non-designated hunting areas.
I put chicken wire around the bottoms of my trees. Hopefully that will deter him. I don’t want him eating my trees.

And that turned into a story about a thrush that has made a nest on the ground and a robin that made a nest on top of his step ladder while he was at Home Depot. He moved the nest back to his woodpile, and they rebuilt it up on a beam. He is concerned for the safety of all birds involved, as there have been cats around.

While I am, of course, touched by his concern for baby birds, the only thing running through my head is "He's going to shoot at a beaver and end up in jail."

My mom assured me she would not let this happen (the shooting part), and Jenny said not to worry, he'll be out there with pie plates and empty butter tubs to rig up something to protect the birds. He's "clever" that way.

It's Dickie v. Nature, and I think Nature is winning. At least it's succeeding in keeping him occupied, and the rest of us entertained.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!
I LOVE YOU!

Let's Hear it for the Girls

2008-06-01T22:45:00.003-04:00

Like countless other women, this weekend I saw Sex and the City. I was lucky enough to be invited to a special screening on Friday night, complete with cosmos and nibbles and gift bags!

I can sum it up in one word—Champagne!

From the moment the glittering title flashed on the screen until the last cosmo was downed, it was a delicious bubbly glass of great Champagne. (If you don't want to know anymore about what happens, stop reading.)

It stayed true to the characters we have come to know like they were are own best girlfriends. There were even moments when I broke out of my SATC excitement to say "What the fuck is she wearing?" about some of Carrie's outfits, just like when I watched the show. I will say, more winners than losers on her fashion dance card this time around.

There were some sad moments. In true Mr. Big style, he was a cowardly dick at the worst possible moment. When Carrie beat him with her bouquet, she was doing it for all of us. There was loud cheering in my theater as lilies and roses exploded on his stupid head.

And, of course, she had her girlfriends to rally around her; to pick her up and help her realize that it would get better. And it did. To the screaming delight of every girl in the theater (and the bawling hysterics of some drunk girl at the end of our row. At least I hope she was drunk....)

I really hope I look as good as Samantha when I am 50 (You rock, Kim!) Stamford and Anthony??? Woo hoo! That was a fun shock! And I totally felt for Charlotte. When I was in Mexico, I kept my mouth shut tight in the shower for just that reason. Her confrontation with Big was hilarious. Although my big line would have been a bit different than her "I curse the day you were born." My line would go along the lines of "Fuck you, you fuckity fuck." But Charlotte is a lady, and I am not.

The only part that I didn't really like was the whole Miranda/Steve thing. I don't like Steve anyway. He's a weird, twitchy dork. I didn't like how the series ended for Miranda. She wasn't herself anymore, the Miranda we'd known through the course of the show. She had changed her whole personality and moved to Brooklyn for him. So in the movie, Steve admitting he slept with someone else kind of came out of left field.

And it was a little long, at more than two hours, but it felt like every scene was needed to move the plot along. Nothing had me thinking "why are we watching this happen."

All in all, it was a wonderful way to say a final good-bye to our favorite fictional girlfriends, and a way to make us appreciate the girlfriends we really have (and in my case, to miss them terribly, but Kara and I dished on Saturday after she saw it, so that felt better.) I loved the delicious Champagne that was this movie. I might have to go back for another glass!

Here's to an Idol-free Today

2008-05-29T12:58:00.004-04:00

That will hopefully come next week.

Every morning, I watch Today. I am obviously not looking for hard news to go along with my morning coffee, but it gets me a little informed and entertained.

Except for every Wednesday and Thursday morning, when they would do a 10 minute "commercial" for a show on a totally different network. Meredith would get all excited talking about American Idol. I always wondered how the brass at NBC would allow it. They didn't talk about who got kicked off any of the other shows on other networks. They didn't even talk about the first woman to ever win The Biggest Loser, an actual NBC show.

I don't watch American Idol. Because I like music. Watching a dozen tweens butcher classic songs week after week in a "karaoke from hell" kind of way makes me die a little inside.

But it's Meredith's reason for living. Or so you would think, judging from the daily giddiness when talking about it. "Did you watch?" she would ask Matt. "Um, no," was his standard reply. And oh the drama when the father of one of the "singers" was "banned" from back stage.

Isn't there a war on? An election coming up? A dog that can do tricks? Because the only way I would consider American Idol "news" is if when one of the "singers" got voted off, they whipped out a gun and went postal, with Ryan Gaycrest getting caught in the crossfire. I might actually watch that episode!

It all came to a head today on Today when the "winner" and the runner up appeared on the show. Meredith was so giddy, Matt had to sit in on the interview. I swear all she did was sit there and giggle. As a journalist, I died a little inside watching it.

So I switched over to Angel on TNT. If I am not going to be informed, at least I can be entertained.

Oh Skinny Cows, how I have missed you

2008-05-27T22:11:00.002-04:00

Woo hoo! I went to my Weight Watchers meeting tonight, and I lost 3 1/2 pounds! Now I am sure that was just water, but what the hell, I'll take it!

I am "rewarding" myself with a glass of wine. OK, two.

I made some good changes this week. I switched to raw veggies with my hummus, instead of crackers. I got a food scale to measure out proper portions. I've been writing everything that goes in my mouth down on my journal pages. And I danced around the kitchen while preparing a Memorial Day batch of Manhattan Clam Chowder.

And, as an allowed treat, I have reintroduced myself to the most wonderful of 2-point ice cream treats, the Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich. They are heaven! And, since chocolate is my "trigger food," I got little 1-point chocolate Zingers and these 2-point chocolate mint bars for that after lunch fix (not all at once. Just one a day!). Take THAT bowl of peanut M&Ms up at the front desk. You can not defeat me!

I can do this. I am determined! This week comes some walking and more work with my hand weights. I'll be strutting that pink skirt by Labor Day!!!

The bejesus

2008-05-26T21:14:00.004-04:00

Once upon a time, quite some time ago, before Turner Classic movies or even TBS and TNT, The Wizard of Oz was shown on TV only once a year, on a Sunday. I think it was around Easter time. One week was Oz, the next Sunday was The Ten Commandments. One thing was guaranteed on Oz night. Either Jan or Dick had to come calm down their screaming child, who awoke in the middle of the night after being chased by winged monkeys and green-faced witches.

That screaming child was me.

They probably drew straws before putting us to bed, knowing that in a few hours, I would be howling. It was as annual an event as the showing of the movie itself. And yet, I watched it every single time.

I thought about that last night while I was watching Dexter on my newly acquired Showtime (in all of its TV-M glory). As I watched Dexter slice the cheek of his restrained captive, I thought, "I really should not be watching this so close to my bedtime."

But I couldn't change the channel. For some sick reason, I can't stop scaring the bejesus out of myself. If there is a suspenseful movie on, I am compelled to watch, knowing full well it will haunt my dreams.

It's just a movie, blah, blah, blah. Well, I have been "blessed" with a very vivid and active imagination that will sometimes not be quiet. I have laid in bed, terrified a guillotine blade was going to drop from the ceiling after watching a special on Nostradamus. I did not get one second of sleep the night we watched Copycat, as every creek of the house, every rustle of branches outside was a crazed killer trying to break in. And, my sister was a heartbeat away from a face full of Lysol when she came home late the night I had watched the original Helter Skelter.

I still remember the look of dread on my mother's face when I told her I had watched Psycho at my friend Jennifer's house. I knew she was imagining me waking up screaming in the middle of the night. Nope, I just made sure to bolt the bathroom doors when I was in the shower. Which I did until I went to college.

Don't even get me started on Jaws. The first time I saw it, I was terrified to stick my toe in the lake, let alone the ocean. Now, it's one of my favorite movies, and I watch it every time it's TV. It was on last Thursday, and I kept flipping back to it during the season finale of Grey's Anatomy.

Which is a whole other thing. I can't watch the gore stuff. Can't stand the sight of blood. So there are times where I can't watch ER or Grey's. But give me a 10 p.m. airing of Psycho, and I'm all over it. Maybe I'm not as scared of it because I know what's going to happen. But I still jump when that shower curtain whips open. And the ending is still unnerving (on a side note, I am referring to the original Hitchcock movie, NOT the remake).

And while I watch Jaws all the time, and appreciate it for the genius piece of film making that it is, the idea of it still freaks me out. When I am in the ocean, I make sure there are people out farther than I am, so they will get eaten first, and I'll have time to get out of the water. I don't use a raft or a float, because that makes you look like a seal underwater, and I don't want to end up like that little Kintner boy. And if something touches me underwater, I will climb on the head of the person next to me to get out of the water.

I may like to scare myself when I'm on the sofa, but out in the big ocean, why take chances that my imagination is actually real.