Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Can't Can Help?

How many times...
in your day is can't said?

How many times...
do you say "you can't"?

How many times...
do you think "I can't"?

How many times
does "can't" need to be said?

How many times...
do you need to hear 'you can' before you believe it?

How many times...
will you tell someone they can?

Its not just a word. Its a feeling. A numbing admittance. You thought you could, but you can't.

With the nonchalance of shooing a fly new ideas and young hopes are batted away. How often I say or think, "except you can't".

You can't do a triple back flip and kick the robber in the face, before hand springing onto your bike and pedaling away at the speed of light.

Maybe you can't... but who am I to put "can't" in your head?

So many things I write off as "I thought I could, but I really can't". What other conclusion could I draw, having no evidence of my ability to do said feat? Being thus put down by myself, I then assign others the same inability. What has changed since I thought that I could? My perception.

Its been too long since I thought I could. I must have been mistaken. That Can is too old. That means it's a Can't.

Yet I realize.

"Can" only has the shelf life you assign it. You can... you just maybe haven't yet. >.O

Sunday, August 12, 2007

-_\\\ *angst*

Leek is a wonderful vegetable. Most especially when you have bunches and bunches of very well grown, young, white, tender, delicious leeks. I am biased when I say my favorite way to eat them is Au Gratin. I have only ever eaten them Au Gratin. They are wonderful. A nice leek soup might be good someday... but au gratin is fine with me.

There’s neither an art or a science to bad days. They are a mysticism of their own. To define them, to cause them, or to cure them, I am at a loss. Recent experiences have only left me increasingly confused. Every day this summer has tried its best to start off terribly. Lack of sleep is a prime suspect, as is oversleep. Both culprits played their cards Saturday and Sunday respectively.

Saturday -

Waking up early, but not early enough, Saturday I proceeded to be rushed. I fly out the door to a van of irritated waiting people. We rush to the wedding and realize my zipper has come off track. I’m open from shoulder to the small of my back – were the zipper wedges itself – down to my skivvies. Weddings these days frown on nudity. I drop them off and drive home. Terrible so far yes. I pick them up and take them to the lunch. I go home again, but now with a mission. There is a farmer’s market in the park. I have never gone being asleep till noon most summer days. I’m a foodie who has never graced a farmer’s market. Hardly a foodie at all! I hop in my roasty car and go. I inwardly hoorah. It isn’t closed yet. I’ve made it on time… the day continues. My alone time gives me a bit of calm and serenity. I drop by my house to drop off my goods. Seven leeks for all of $3, a quart of blueberries for the same, two peaches, for a dollar more, and a pot of mascarpone from Bella’s a total of 30 cents fewer than it actually cost. After scrounging in the car for loose change the cashier sold it to me for what I had.

Sunday -

The day proceeded to a miraculous finish. Fulfilling some obligation to the community theatre, I help set up set. I scamper home, toss together dinner for my swimming familia, and head out the door to the town next over with my suitor and his family. We eat dinner and this posh eatery with wonderful food. When the waitress speaks of the ingredients complimenting each other, and food interactions (the herbed butter melts on the filet making a divine sauce) it should be pretty good. And then we hie to a Shakespeare play. Get back in time to catch a movie with my family, and go to bed happy, albiet late. I wrote another blog see.
Sunday’s curse of oversleep proved harder to throw. If I were not already a suspect for the bad day, my mother was. She rules a large part of the mood in the house. Just when I’d get myself awake enough to feel good she’d be showing her own temper and trigger mine again. I took turns being at peace with the world and myself - to door slamming, sibling thumping, pony stomping frustrated anger. The highlights – dancing the kitchen clean with my Zune, my leeks au gratin prep, and my 40 minute run while it baked. Alone time can feel so good sometimes.

In short, bad days are terrible to throw. Leeks are a wonderful vegetable. And I have only ever eaten them au gratin a total of three times.

Good days to you.

Saturday, August 11, 2007


Oprah is like another Mecca. Whether knowingly or not, people bow to her. She cultivates inspiration, aspiring change, and sucess. You can see it pool and flow around her. She has the wealth to irrigate fertile ideas and invest in potential. As amazing as it is to see her tend her gardens, more intriguing still are the bits and pieces of greenery sprouting up volunteer around her them. The woman draws ideas to her like ravines draw run-off.

Arriving home from work I always miss her show. What I'm finding is her website holds great content much more frequently. I could care less about Tom Cruise jumping around, or Chalize Therun believing wrinkles are the best. You don't always get specials about her amazing school in Africa or self help survival stories. On her website however - if you can find it - there is some wonderful content. I would post several examples, but my search techniques have only yeilded one.

An end to the the set up. What put me on the subject is this article. The title "Transition Anxiety" initially repels me from it, but the small intro sentence tacked below it draws me back in. "If you're always running late, carelessness might not be to blame—your perception of time could be the culprit," it reads. Well... that does describe me. I read it. And it does describe me. To a T. So... if you want to get to know me a smidgen better. If you want to know why I tell you to call 15 minutes before anything. Why I'm always late, unless I'm not. Read it.

Transition Anxiety by Martha Beck

Saturday, May 05, 2007


Terrible thing. Pretty color. Why did envy turn green? American paper currency is sort of green, but is that where it originated? That wouldnt really make any sense either. Well, I turned copper with envy when I saw how many pennies she had. That doesnt work very well at all.

Green is often related to evil. The Wicked Witch of the West was green (neither her color or wickedness are ere reasoned). Slytherin's colors are green and (white is it? or silver...). It is in costume theory related to envy, greed, and evil, but green is a color of plant life and renewal. Energy, rebirth, youth are embodied by that color too. The original point you may remember being why is envy green?

When I am envious I dont feel particularly green. I would almost say purple, but I dont think that gives purple any justice either. Black already has enough ill thoughts assinged to it. I suppose the best thing to say about envy is it makes me feel bruised. (not in a good 'hey look i have a bruise' way either). I want something, and at the same time I want to not want it. On top of that I'm working on convincing myself that I have just compensation. Mixxed within is a frantic assesment of my chances of aquiring this that is envied. Feeling bad for envy and then trying to decide if I really want this thing for myself. So I usually avoid it as I can.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

And So It Spreads

Welcome to the wonderful, suductive, and hungry world of foodporn. With flickr and digital photography abounding, its becoming impossible to see it all, let alone try it all. Dont be discouraged!

TasteSpotting gets gives you some prime images. Eclairs speak tongues, but there are beautiful food finds for all levels of eaters here. A collection of beautiful square food things with links to their information (no beautiful blog to save till you have time). From sushi to the chocolate chip to what the heck is that... Take a gander. Feed your addiction. Go to bed hungry.

All I can say... dang, I wish my camera could get that close.

Friday, March 23, 2007


I wonder if I shall ever enjoy eating olives. I dont mind the tin flavored ones from the Albertsons can. The ones from jars however have given me considerable trouble. I dont know as I've bought the right kind. Did I leave my chedder and buy the first block of blue I could find? In such a case with olives it would be little wonder I havnt aquired a taste for them.

I want to try an olive with a vague olive oil flavor. No tin. But not strangely bitter, mouth drying, grainy goo held together by a rubber skin! All marinated in some sort of pickled concoction, no less! I need to research which is a mild flavored olive, and try a nice brand.

Further down on my list of purchasing, a bottle of Lucini Extra Virgin Olive Oil. Its pretty, green, and I've been recomended by several to try it. They have some in stock at my Bella's (a beautiful little gourmet store). Fifteen dolars give or take. I think I might get some soon. I'll need to pull some sorta crazy Italian cookery masterpeice to show off all my great ingredients. Sun dried tomatoes, olive oil, pine nuts... I've got some goods. And mascarpone is now only $7, down from its original $15 per imported tub! Hopefully this new brand will be equally tasty.

Up next, been craving a salad from a local restraunt. Realized that because it had no dressing, I could replicate it myself. Just need some flavor power houses, some quick grilling and pow. Angry Chicken Salad, as it was called. Bacon, mushrooms, onion, bell pepper on romain with chicken. I got it down. And I'll toss on just a little bit of my favorite ceasar 'cuz thats how I like it.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Another Great Mystery

Ever wonder why they still call Lipton's Onion Soup Mix, soup? The space on the back is filled with four recipes. Meatloaf, potatoes, pot roast, sour cream dip. That’s ok. These are pretty fine recipes... (Ok, so I've only tried the taters and dip). You think to yourself, the soup recipe must be on the side. To the right, the ever percent nutritional value. To the left... a hamburger recipe. Top? Bottom? Neither. There is no onion soup instructions. Readily improvisable... just add water for a nice onion broth, just enough for good flavor. Have you ever heard of anyone actually making the soup from this soup mix? I never have. I think I'll try it this week. AND I'll post pictures. Coincidentally, there isn’t one on the net of prepared Lipton's Onion Soup, that I could find.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Rubbing Alcohol

Havn't used it since I had my ears pearced. Until today. I found its secret use. Before today I was certain any textile with silly putty on it was gone for good. Turns out, good ole rubbing alcohol will take it off pretty nice. Test the fabric first for it might bleach it, but at least there's hope!

Friday, February 09, 2007

Dubliner and Mushrooms

Its a darn fine cheese my friends. A simple one to get used to. A mild buttery Parmesan like flavor and sweet aftertaste. Which is probably completely incorrect terming to the experts of cheese consumption. My father compared it to sharp Swiss cheese that’s been mixed with buttered mashed potatoes, if the connoisseurs like that description better. It’s become widely accessible even to folk who live in the boonies, like myself. Try some!

I had portabellas for dinner last night. I picked some up at the store with some garlic and an onion, and the culinary magic began. (And I'm talkin, the kids were eating it too!(Don't count on it though... Its mushrooms and onion for goodness sake!))

Stuffed Portabellas of Savoury Delight

4 Portabella's
8 Slices of Bacon (or more...)
1 Clove Garlic
1/4 Cup diced onion (or so)
4 slices Cheese (Peperjack works nicely, though I like Munster. I think something mild and white works best.)
Parmesan (Optional... I used a tiny bit on the one pictured)
Kosher Salt
Olive Oil
(get creative! Try using less bacon and adding finely sliced chicken or steak instead!)

Preheat oven to 400 f

Remove stems from the portabellas. Twist and wiggle and they should come off right at the base. Set these aside. Brush the cap of the portabella's with olive oil, and drizzle onto gills. Place on a baking sheet and bake about 5 minutes to 10. They'll look juicey, dark, and shriveled.

While mushrooms are baking, cook bacon (and other meat if using). Set aside to drain on paper towel lined plate.

Pour off some of the bacon grease from the pan. Peel the skins off the stem (this might not be necessary but I've always done it. And slice and dice into nice lil bits. Heat the bacon greasy pan, toss in onion, crush in garlic and then add the mushroom trimmings. Cook till the mushroom bits are soft and the onion is all caramelized and slightly translucent.

Break the bacon into small bits and add to the mushroom onion mix and toss. Get your baked portabella's, sprinkle with some salt, and fill equally with the bacon mixture.

Place a slice of the cheese of your choice on each, and your grated Parmesan if using. The put in the oven on broil till cheese is melted, about 2 minutes.

And there you have it. Savoury extraordinaire!

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Stoned In The Literal With Stones And Rocks Sort Of Way

I havn't escaped. Yet. Mwahahahhhh......


Bench Press


"Do you have any friends in this class?"

He must mean for spotters. I stare blankly at him. "Uh... No. No I don't."

He spots me.

I was falling down the stairs when I was done with my 30 lifts of each. And slowly the lack of strength is developing into a sorenss and pain.

"Is that enough weight?" He askes?

Aren't there lighter bars? I wonder.

The worst is yet to come. That is, its not tonight, but tomarrow night when the real pain of it will be on.

Oh that I were dead.

Monday, January 29, 2007

More Pictures

I really need to do some scanning. Woe that I had a scanner... And yeah, the body is a bit fuzzy... but you can see the shadow of its antenna on the seat. Pretty awesome.

Hand held Sony Cybershot
Painted Lady found in truck while camping.


My initial reason for starting this blog- and so soon!- is to describe to you my 6th period class today. Having pursued a creative learning experience through high school, I too have joined the quest for more credits. By the end of this year as planned I will have all I need and some extra. The problem, friends, is the required ones. Yes, I skimped a PE class. I wouldn't take it back for the world! But now I shall pay. The variable as yet, is how much.
They're still seem to be options, but the one I'm fleeing...

Having been directed shortly after lunch as to what my 6th period class was, I knew its general local when the bell rang. I headed down the stairs in the opposite way of my usual habit. New experiences. Right. I was going to go get fit, toned, sleek and strong. I'm all over this. Just like math class right? Your ok by yourself. Just tone them out and be you. Ok... ok... OK WHERE THE HECK?! There's no one congregating. It’s been at least three minutes; there are only two left till class. They’re should be groups forming in the correct locals. And there's no one in the 'big gym'.

A sporty girl walks into the gym. She's... approachable.

"Hey, what class is this?"

"Life time sports"

Some muttering... then I ask, "Where is circuit training?"

"Up there." She points to the second layer of bleachers. After asking directions of the preferred direction of access, I go. It’s freezing in the gym and I'm still not sure if it’s the right place. There's an odd kid here or there. They agree its up where I'm going. Solitary on the bottom bleacher there's a sporty prep sort of girl. Red sweatshirt, blond highlights, orange flip-flops, and the rainbow and white Doony and Burke purse that’s sprung up around our school. She's sitting there looking sour faced and I approach hesitantly. Trying to make the best of matters I boldly strike up a conversation.

"Its cold in here"


The awkwardness is overwhelming. I give up.

The students start assembling. Horrors of horrors. The sporty kids. The pretty sporty kids and the manly sporty kids gather around. Football players, cheerleaders and their buddies all begin to congregate properly dressed down. I'm worried. I've been in grudge matches - if only in my own head- with these kids since elementary. I can handle this. Yes I can. I have to come in my workout clothes. Ok maybe not... Hmm.

The teacher walks out. And older fellow in a poly workout jumpsuit. I'm not a huge believer in the stereotypic names I've been slinging here. There is no alternative. I knew it when the coach walked in. He is stereotypic nerd/weird coach. He walks us through the syllabus, and leads us, sheepishly following, to the weight room. The sight of slaughter. Kids are strewn about the room lifting various scrungy looking bits of metal. Ripped fake leather padded seats smeared with sweat.

The room smells of it, though strangely enough, the prime body odor comes from the stationary TA. He reads us our duties. 3 sets of 10 on various muscle groups. He shows us the lifts I will never hope to accomplish. "I use this to work on my biceps" on another, "this will give you, ya know... that big neck muscle... right... the triangle one." He shrugs his shoulder’s high to indicate the shape it will give you. I watch bemused. Horrified. Beaming in hysterics.

He proceeds around the room, asking various bulky, muscley guys to show us the machines functions. "This one really works the butt. In case we didn't realize which part of our anatomy this was he shows us with gestures along each muscle used.

"Clean up the weights!" He calls to the class. "Dodge ball!"

It is the epitome of what the media, trainers and my brain have been trying to convince me that exercise is NOT. Grimy, nasty, humiliating, bulky. I would love to get toned. I don’t mind sweating. Yoga, fencing, pilates, areobics, mud wrestling… but EW!

I think he noticed the hysterics. The grinning. I hope he saw the hysterics. He took me aside and said it would be fun. Something about getting to know me, because I have never had him teach before.

I got my locker. Watched horrified and uncomfortable at the game of dodge ball. It tried to hide. It goes under the alias 'Longball' here. There are still big guys who can throw, chucking balls at my head. That’s not the worst part. I'm afraid I can’t kick the ball... and I'm supposed to.

Tomorrow I am but suppliant to my guidance counselor.

For the love of learning get me out of there!

Saturday, January 27, 2007

Appologies and Things

It was a big blog down below. No pictures. I'll make it up, though the one I want to show you was a film one... but here's one. Enjoy.

Wiggles and Food

I'm struggling with my self. Reaching down into the deepest realms of what my mind has marked personality and searching frantically. What do I want? Web MD or Bicycle Monthly? The waiting room is crowded. The single chair buffer is a luxury threatening to vanish if another patient party should enter. Were talking ailing possibly contagious people here! They aren't exactly my peer group either. Mind you, I wouldn't fit in with the secret pregnancy test or sports team physical group of my age, but I'm talkin not a one of them couldn't get the senior citizen discount no questions asked. This wouldn't bother me too much- the age not the discount. I'm not particularly age-ist at my supreme maturity level. I really don’t have a problem with it. I don’t. But they’re staring at me! I try to imagine just for a moment what they might be seeing from their perspective. Short haired hoodlum girl child who obviously must be missin her schoolin, probably to get a drug test or other unmentionable.

Forgetting to turn the scrutiny external once more, I sit for a good moment feeling terrible. But before long I am distracted. I've watched out of the corner of my eye. I've done the Casual Glance over, and the Room Scan. And it’s true. That lady across the room staring at me. You don’t make eye contact 3 times in a row on properly spaced Casual Glance unless they're staring at you. This wouldn't be half the debacle it was if I had a decent magazine!

Tossing the MD aside I begin furiously flipping through the biking magazine. I'm completely lost. It’s talking about proper foot grips and obscure training tools. They're advertising a new bike design. I spend a moment drooling over it. It says ergonomic. It has lots of features. It’s pink and named something like Diva. It's probably expensive. Enough for my drool. Soon though the rapture passes and I give up. Tossing the magazine back on the table - that is passing it to my mother to do so- I resign myself to the inevitable staring contest about to ensue. Rest my eyes for a few seconds.... And she's gone. Crap, now how am I going to amuse myself?!

The door opens and a plump nurse in flowery scrubs summons me forth. I stride across the room toward her and the entrance to medical advice. I get about halfway, falter and look behind me to see if my mom is coming. She raises her eyebrows and slaps on a mock-encouraging smile. I shuffle forward, ever pulled by the nurses summons, glancing back hesitantly. Mother sighs, shakes her head, and follows. Score one for the puppy dog look. We march back through winding twisting halls lost in the labyrinth. I'm weighed measured and finally our guide leaves us alone in a cell. Only me with my charm and charisma could turn that bare utilitarian exam room into a superfluous throne room. I step up to my dais, and perch on its... paper lined cushion. Without a back to it I hunch and fold my arms. I feel deflated.

And then my doctor walks in. If you didn't think mothering type when you first saw her you probably think friend. She's not everything I might have imagined for a doctor/counselor/mentor, but she's close enough to throw money at. Things that I noticed about her... shorter graying blond hair, perfect teeth and a smile that still lively. I could see myself going to lunch or to backpack Peru with someone like her. She's smart but not imposing or arrogant, she's candid, unjudgemental and she understands the patients feel pain! She's great.
Anyway, I leave my visit feeling comforted that I have a doctor of my very own. Also a bit sore as my hand was frost blistered and bleeding. But it was only a little frost blistered and sore. I was in a good place. She had given me the quest of exercising at least 3 times a week, eat a variety of foods, and drop simple sugars all to feel my best and increase endorphins. And thus ends my blog prologue.

What I wanted to say is I've been on a health food binge for the last week or so. I've worked on the sugars... I'm hopeless but I'm working! I've been trying to use lower cholesterol alternatives in most of my cookings and the low sugar options too. Since my last food blog I've ran out of inspiration to cook. So the health food trip has made me even more creative than I am when I'm creative. Basically, I've had more whole grain, yogurt buttered, flaxseed creations than you could imagine. Lots of protein stuff too. Lots of fiber. My latest creation, an unholy concoction of Quaker oats, honey, egg, vanilla, baking powder, flax, cream cheese, whole wheat... pancake like goo, inspired by and named after the Wiggles' Crunchy Munchy Honey Cakes. I stirred it all together and cooked it on the griddle. Didn't even use butter! And it wasn't blatantly sweet...
Other than that... The painting goes well. Sort of. I inhaled stripper... wallpaper stripper vapors a bit much and irritated my airways... But it works so well! I've bought the paint and it may be even better than I imagined it would be. As I was drifting of to sleep I decided I should paint an ironwork pattern border along it. Either the top border or a divider type thing. Using a nice dark silvery gray color and going all intricate. I post pics if I come up with an exact pattern. Or better yet, show you when it’s all done! Like that'll happen...

It happens now that I am about to tell you my goal, I've realized I failed it today. I've been taking a picture a day as featured on . It’s been really nice and getting me out and snapping. But I didn’t today. Hmm... I did make some prints of my stuff the other day. Maybe one day I'll post some film ones.

At any rate, if anyone has some good idea's for lentils other than soup, let me know.

Last thing, did blog derive from the log? And if it did, where did the 'b' come from?

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

End Catcher

Most jobs out there are a means to an end. For those lucky enough to find a job that is both the means and the end for them, they’ve got it made. Until then, most of these ends lay far from job itself. Be it supporting a family, supporting yourself through schooling, or just to buy things you want(like food and toilet paper). A job is worked into ones life to provide a means to provide these services.

Defining the motivations that get you to work day after day really shows some priorities you have*. My priority is travel, artful living, and fine food. Things I work for and scrimp money for… a big camera, bottle of truffle oil, a Shun Santaku knife, trip to Europe or Japan or anywhere else. Those are the sorts of things I am working for. And soon I’ll be working for the toilet paper, gas, and bulk packages of top ramen. The needs can muddle things up.

But I digress. If a job cannot provide you your priorities and enjoyment there of, then its defeated its purpose. If I cannot travel with a job, then eventually I’ll have to leave it. It seems simple. And though I’m hesitant to believe it, I’ve been told low paying jobs are a dime a dozen. A part time here or there is recoupable. Actual career paths put on more difficult to bypass restrictions. I mentioned earlier about those who find a job that is their end. I’d like one eventually I suppose. A job that pays enough to cover my needs and provides satisfaction in itself. I’m looking for it too. They take work and dedication… the clashing ends. Career paths versus ulterior motivations. Well, if the final product can give it all… I’ll wait and see.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Mandarin Chicken Salad And Meditations On Meth

Fear fatigue. It's amazing what a terrible thing it can be. Spending hours doing absolutely nothing... My day today. I got one thing done. Cooked dinner. And mainly sat around stairing a lot and feeling like a bum. Well, there's always meth. -_-

This salad is love.

Ginger Mandarin Chicken Spinach Bowtie Salad of the Gods!

Salad: Toss together all but the oranges.

8oz. Bowtie Noodles
2 Cups Chicken (chopped and cooked)
6 oz. Spinach
11 oz can of Mandrian oranges
1/2 C Diced Red Bell Peper
1/2 C Diced Red Onion
1/2 C Cucumber (Sliced and quartered)

Dressing: Mix together

1 tsp Fresh Ginger Grated (or finely minced)
1 or 2 cloves Garlic Crushed (or finely minced)
1 packet Liptons onion soup mix
1/3 C Rice Vinegar
1/4 C Orange Juice
1 Tbs Sesame Seed Oil
1/4 C vegetable oil

Drain the oranges and add to salad with the dressing. Toss gently to mix in oranges and coat salad with dressing.

And there you have it! I'll get some pictures next time I make it.

Monday, January 01, 2007

Meditations On The Upcoming

A room that matches my blog, only a bit darker. My monitor is very dark. That is why all of my pictures look faded on your average monitor. I cannot see them at all untill I lighten them some. I leave them a bit dark, but it hasn't been enough. I'm stripping... the walpaper off my room and painting it purple. A nice light purple and the possibility might exist that I paint the trim in brown. Funish it with a dark silver spirally bed and silky sheer curtains...

A bit of a college visit. I might skip over to visit a college soon. Portland State... I have deepest suspicions about it, but I shall take a gander. My mother, a friend, and myself should be popping down there in the next couple of months to check it out, and the sights in portland. I've never spent a great deal of time there. An hour really at state theatre competitions. It was plesent then... we'll see.

First I have to get my hair cut. Then I have to graduate highschool. I'm going to do an independant study French class. This is after I make up half a math credit. Go figure. If you dont do the homework you dont pass the class. Dont my B's on tests with no prep work make up for the measely old homework crap?!

A Costco trip is in store as well. Olive Oil. Good stuff this time. Nuts... *sigh* Spices... some cheese's. Another 8lbs of butter or so... Heck to the rest of it. I'm there for the food. (and maybe some cute pj pants like last time, a video game, or... food). Yeah, I'm there for the food.

A massage next week. My first. This means I'll have to shave doesnt it... Yes. Yes it does.

A week full of food. Tomarrow... ~THE SALAD!~ I'll post the recipe. It needs to be online! To make a name for it you would have to include all of the ingredients... Ginger Mandrian Orange Chicken Spinach Salad... Does that work? Its delishous. It has those ingredients with some orange juice, garlic, rice vinegar, red bell, red onion, cucumber, liptons onion soup mix. My mother, sister, and myself have been known to make a double batch (serves 12) and eat it all before the night was over. Normally we only eat 2 or 3 portions per individiual its good, this stuff is great. My father and the lil siblings hate it... no massive hunk of meat? vegetables? Its beyond them.

The next day...
Lunch: Pad Thai
Dinner: Chicken legs with a herbs de province rub.

The next night
Manacotti with spinach ricotta filling
A Gratin of Leeks (I've never cooked with leeks before! I'm so excited!)

I'm not sure what this night, but it will have pork. It will be smoky mesquite like with cumin and chillie powder. It will have fettuccini. I will probably use my wok.

Ramen pork stir fry stuff....

And cheap freezer turky gravy potato goo i bought. Yes, I do eat freezer food. Sometimes I crave it specifically. Much like the basic sauce of chines food dishes.

Uh... hash browns? We bought 6lbs... ooo... maybe some bowtie pasta with italian herbs and chopped vegetables. I'm lookin into some pizza quesadilla stuff too. If i got the time the motivation and the forsight... we will eat well.

Oh The Beauty

I have done you wrong. I appologize greatly for my terrible lapse. I have not written a blog of any size or description since December 3, 2006. Were I a good writer I would have updated at least weekly. Every other day would be prefferable... and even enjoyable, but neither the mood or the time presents itself and so I have wasted nigh countless hours doing nothing of import or lasting beauty.

I will inform you however, that Christmas was beautiful. Without the extra time to prepare - Christmas break started 3 days late - I was unable to finish most of my gifts. They will get them eventually! My dining room has been transformed into sewing room for the month. If school doesn't interfere I may have them done this month. I revamped my quilt for Whitney... Extenuating circumstances including lack of funds as well as severe lack of time has moved that project onward until her birthday come spring. Pajama pants for the rest of the family are coming along nicely. Thats a lie. I need to really get going on them, but I do have things purchased and a pair almost completed.

The mood was beautiful. It snowed a day before Christmas eve. Almost half a foot of snow...
I went to to get together's outside of the family. One was a posh hors d'oeuvre, stand around in formal chatting partie it this lovely old house. I arrived straight from work unformal and with cheese soy sauce rice cracker dish. The other was dinner with my boyfriend. We had a tasty potato soup and salad. A bit tretcherous making it there... but worth it.
The food was spectacular, and a Christmas present in itself to prepare. I used a recipie from the food network holiday specials to glaze a ham. Paula Deen and Emeril - I'd slaughter his last name- made a sugar cane glazed ham with baked pears and apples, and so did I. Here's the menu.

Chrsitmas Eve Dinner
Sugar Cane Glazed Ham with Baked Fruit
Cornbread/Whole Wheat Stuffing with Wild Mushrooms and Pecans
Whit's Broccoli Salad
Ceasar Shrimp Salad

My only complaint was the low quality olive oil on the dressing. The rest was delishious.

Christmas Breakfast
(Straight out of an old Bon Appetite)
Hot Chocolate with Caramel Swirl Whipped Cream
Vanilla Maple French Toast
Rosmary Sausages

And a citrus salad but I never preped the citrus for it. There was plenty anyway. Only comment would be a thinner firmer french toast. It was amazing how much custard mix that bread soaked up. Bout 2 cups of milk and 9 eggs... bet if I lower the milk they would firm up some.

We all went on a walk Christmas eve. About nine o' clock. The snow reflected light wonderfully. We were the only ones out and slid down the middle of the street pulling eachother on sleds. The snow packed made them glide along perfectly without getting our feet too cold. We popped in the car after that for a light seeing cuise and to warm up then arrived back home to dive between the covers (or do the final prep work for the breakfast as the lot may be).

A bottle of vodka, fish sauce, food processor... chocolate, underwear, socks... A victoria's secret box of anime and a spice grater. Things went well.