May 14, 2011

Playing with Food

Over Easter weekend I made a trip to the Farmers Market and got some early strawberries.  Some of them had really fun shapes and if you have been reading my blog for a while you know I have a thing for funny-shaped produce, natural or contrived.

So, what do you see?




Here's what I see:
(I didn't have anything good to make an eye, so I just added one in MS Paint.)

May 13, 2011

The Importance of Being Earnest

Updated:  No major changes, just fixing some weird things that happened when Blogger was down.  I also lost my two comments.  :(

I was going to make my next post about the awesome pasta dish I made for dinner Tuesday night, but then something interesting happened at the grocery store.  Specifically, the parking lot of the grocery store.  The recipe will come soon.

I was walking along pushing my cart, within yards of Nemo, when suddenly the car I was behind lurched into reverse.  I usually come up with some silly expletive like "fart" or "poop" or the infamous "uh-oh, UH-OH!"  Sometimes all I can manage is sort of a whimper, but this time was a straight up "oh, s***!"  and then a dorky looking run with the cart to get out of the way. In flip flops.  Fortunately, he saw me and stopped.  I wasn't angry, I know that accidents happen.  I may even be guilty of committing a few myself.  (If "a few" means thousands.  It's all perception).  Anyway, I continued on to my car and began transferring my groceries to my trunk.  I was still alive and unharmed.  No big.

Then, something amazing happened.  He stopped and apologized!  Sincerely apologized.

Wow.

Think about it.  Remember the last time you did something embarrassing, especially if it did or could have affected another person adversely.  Did you really want to stop and apologize?  Did you want to risk the wrath of one of those people that appears normal on the outside but hides an angry, scathingly bitter soul inside, just waiting for some unsuspecting person to unleash it upon?

Sometimes there's no opportunity to apologize, like when you almost crash into someone while driving.  But what if you're right there?  Do you make it a point to apologize?  I'd like to think that I do and/or would, but, honestly, I could do better.  The problem is fear.  I hate to have people angry at me.  Even making a complete stranger mad at me can potentially reduce me to tears.  At the same time, I know that sometimes a simple apology and admission of fault can go a long way.

It's hard.  Very, very hard to look someone in the face and admit your guilt, but I will try.

I will try to be strong and offer apologies when I do wrong.  As a wife, I know the power of a heartfelt apology.  As a mother, I am charged to teach Sweet P how to apologize...and mean it.  As a human, I owe my fellow (wo)man the benefit of the doubt that it was truly an accident and graciously accept an honest apology.  It may also mean forgiving the lack of an apology; there are reasons for that, too.

So, thank you, man who almost ran me over at Lowe's Foods.  You are brave and kind.  I forgave you in the parking lot and I am inspired by you in my heart.  Ideally, I would not make mistakes, but that is about as likely as Dozer (my dog) not chasing bunnies and making a fool of himself anymore.  Until then, I will hike up my big girl panties and say those two very powerful words.

I'm sorry.

May 02, 2011

Chicks, Books and Famous People

My opinion of famous people has gotten a boost!  I organized a small group of ladies to accompany me to WRAL FM's Lipstick Luncheon on March 19th.  My main interest in going was to hear the keynote speaker, Celia Rivenbark, who does have her own website but does not have a page on Wikipedia.  What?  She is an NC Girl from Duplin County and, besides her weekly syndicated column, has authored six high-larious books.  At least the two I've read were funny and, judging from the titles, the rest should be great, too.
  • Bless Your Heart, Tramp and Other Southern Endearments (owned and have read it)
  • We're Just Like You, Only Prettier
  • Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like a Skank (have read it, but lost to an unknown borrower)
  • Belle Weather:  Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Scattered Hissy Fits
  • You Can't Drink All Day if You Don't Start in the Mornin' (owned but have not yet read it)
  • You Don't Sweat Much for a Fat Girl (forthcoming)
After her speech, Celia set up in the hall to sign her books.  She was extremely nice and actually stopped to allow her fans to compose themselves into a flattering picture with her, unlike other famous people I have "met," and I got a decent inscription.

Although I am sad to learn that those measly six point five-ish years spent in the Cold North have rendered me unable to truly be Southern, it was a great day and we all had fun.

April 23, 2011

Nemo and Bambi's Dad (Updated)

Update:  I got into a fight with my netbook in the middle of composing this post.  The netbook may have won, but it fights dirty with tactics such as publishing posts prematurely and then shutting everything down to run updates.


I killed a deer...probably.

I was driving to work one morning in early April when it happened.  My commute is not like most; instead of four-lane highways, I travel back roads.  Rather than fast food restaurants and shopping malls, I see farms and livestock...and deer.

Since I don't remember too much leading up to the hit, I was probably zoned out a bit in that "I drive this route twice a day" way.  I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and hit the brakes.  I'm so glad I did because this deer was BIG.  Of course, in my mind, he kept seeming bigger and bigger as I related to story, but he was still big.  I knocked his legs out from under him a bit, he fell over onto my hood and then kept running.  Fortunately I had completely stopped by this time because several more deer followed.  No one was behind me, so I just sat there for a moment thinking how glad I was that I had been able to hit the brakes.  If I hadn't, I'm pretty sure I would have had a giant deer through my windshield.

I vaguely recalled seeing pieces flying when I hit him, but I couldn't see any damage from inside the car so I naively thought that perhaps it wasn't so bad.  I started driving again, no issues there.  Then I pulled into a church parking lot a few hundred yards away to check for damage.  The door won't open.  Yep, there's damage.  So I get out on the passenger side and walk around to find:

So, a busted grill and my Nissan emblem popped off.

Close-up of the grill and hood (and fur, ew!).

Broken headlight.

And the bumper that got smashed into the fender that got crammed into the door...

Anyway, I was able to drive the remaining two miles or so to work and then had it towed to a body shop in Knightdale.  I probably could have driven it, but it was 26 miles and I didn't want to press my luck.  State Farm was great and got me hooked up with a great body shop that arranged the tow for me and reserved a car for me which we picked up later that same day.

My little Versa is called Nemo because he has a lucky wiper on the passenger side.  To keep with the theme, I named my "new" car Bruce.

Bruce is a Dodge Charger, which I always thought were kind of cool.  It was fun to have a powerful car for a little bit.  The novelty began to wear off when after a week I still couldn't park the damn thing and I had to drop another $60 on a second tank of gas.

After two weeks and one day one got my Nemo back.  I can once again practically park sideways in a parking space again and still be cool.  I love my car, and the fuzzy doggie paw print steering wheel cover, too!

April 22, 2011

My Latest Food Obsession: The Monte Cristo Sandwich

On my recent trip to Anaheim and Disneyland, I ate some delicious things.  Being in California, I also ate some very fresh and healthy things.  One meal in particular stands out: the famous Monte Cristo sandwich from Cafe Orleans at Disneyland.  While it was definitely not healthy, it was at least wisely paired with fresh fruit as a side; french fries would have been overkill on the fried food front.  As it was, I focused on the meat and cheese containing parts while Mom "I'm just going to have a salad" took care of the corners for me.


The almighty reference, wikipedia, proclaims the version I had to be the traditional version, but with an addition.  That means the sandwich is completely dipped in fluffy, funnel cake-like batter, deep-fried, dusted with powdered sugar and served with a berry puree.  The addition was a common one in some areas of turkey to go with the traditional ham and Swiss.  The turkey was probably unnecessary since it was so mild it was essentially unnoticable when compared with all of the other flavors.

I had heard of the Monte Cristo sandwich, but I didn't really know what it was. Furthermore, I realized that I couldn't remember ever having noticed one on a menu around Wake County.  Though, I must admit that I don't usually pay too much attention to the sandwich sections of menus, especially if there is a Reuben listed near the beginning of the list.  I'm a sucker for pretty much anything involving sauerkraut as long as it is not of the Bavarian variety.  See shredded brussels sprouts for my opinion of caraway seeds.

In doing internet research around the Triangle in search of the elusive Monte Cristo, I have learned one thing: beware of imitations.  Yes, I know regional variation allows for the sandwich to just be fried on the outside.  It is even acceptable for the whole thing to just be thrown between a couple slices of French toast.  While both of those do sound tasty and might have pleased me previously, I have had the Cadillac and can now never turn back to tamer versions.

I have been ruined forever for anything but the original.  I have considered the improbability of powdered sugar on a ham and cheese sandwich and found the contrast delicious.  I have delighted in the crisp, fluffy batter encasing soft, fresh bread and its salty, smoky contents.  I have dunked in the berry puree until there was but a sad smear of it left in the cup.

Monte Cristo Sandwich - I will have you again, even if I must resort to cooking you myself!

March 17, 2011

Lost in Translation

As we are trying to teach Sweet P certain rules about how things work in our house as far as meal times and personal grooming, I realized that she isn't necessarily understanding what we are saying to her.  Some rules I realize are rather confusing upon analysis.  For example:

Rule: No cookies if you don't eat your dinner.
Analysis: If you eat food, you get more food.

Rule: You don't get crackers every time you ask for them, especially since you ask for them all the time.
Analysis:  Don't ask for crackers and you just might get some.  Also known as the Law of Random Crackering

Other rules I have translated based on her reaction to them.

Rule: It's time to go inside.
Translation: You don't get to do anything fun again for the rest of your life.

Rule: Big girls don't need bottles or pacifiers.
Translation: I'm taking away everything that you love.

Rule: No crackers before dinner.
Translation: I don't care if you're hungry, I'm just going to let you starve to death.

Rule: Go to sleep.
Translation: I don't love you anymore.

Rule: You have to sit in your booster seat and wear a bib to eat.
Translation: Ilike to torture you.

Rule: Let's wash your hands and face.
Translation: I like to torture you.

Rule: It's trim to trim your nails.
Translation: I like to torture you.

March 06, 2011

Book Review: Listen

First of all, I apologize for the hiatus.  I was battling the Mutant Death Crud for about a week and then just never found the time to write.  I also read a lot, and one novel has moved me to share.  If you have a nook, perhaps you downloaded the Free Friday book a few weeks ago?  If not, it is currently at $9.

Listen by Rene Gutteridge

In Listen, Rene addresses the power of the spoken word.  In this case, words not intended to be heard by the subject.  The story takes place in a small town full of seemingly normal people.  Then a website appears with transcripts of private conversations, turmoil ensues.  Turmoil that crosses generations and eventually ends in death.

I started reading the book and found it very entertaining with the aura of mystery surrounding the identity of the website creator.  I just finished it Sunday morning and I was surprised at how incredibly moved I felt at the end.  I am reminded of the pain I was put through by my classmates between 6th and 12th grade.  At first I was a brain, then later a freak as I tried to figure out who I was in the sea of conformity or social death that is high school.  In my struggle to identify myself as me, the only fact I had to work with was that I knew I wasn't everyone else.

As it was the 90's, I got caught up in the "grunge" or "alternative" scene.  I wore baggy pants and flannel shirts from thrift stores the hung awkwardly on my painfully thin frame.  I finally grew tired of it and stopped dressing like an old, color-blind man, but not until after I had been identified as "the biggest pothead in the school."  Which was intriguing because I had never done drugs.  I'm pretty sure it was also said I was anorexic, which was also not true.  I was only blessed with an extremely good metabolism, which has now, sadly, gone the way of the old-man pants.  At times I was also apparently a slut, but isn't that what most gossips will eventually resort to when the target is a female?

The struggles of Jenna, one of the main character's teenage daughter, make my heart ache for what Sweet P will have to endure throughout her life.  Paradoxically, Doug was the taunter rather than the tanted in school.  I can only hope that between the two of us and our different experiences we will have the strength and knowledge to get her through it relatively unscathed.

To be honest, I am guilty of many conversations that I would be mortified to have exposed.  It won't be easy, but I hope to learn to consider what I say, even if the subject isn't present.

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"...as much as I hated it at first, I actually think it has done some good.  I hear it in the break room.  People are starting to talk about the power of words.  People are listening more than they're talking...Life and death are in the power of the tongue, if you give the tongue all of the power, I guess."