Yes, that's correct, friends and neighbors ! You too can go bowling, then return home to have a touch of food poisoning ! It's amazing !
Okay -- here's the story. . .
Robert's birthday was last week and he has a present coming. We've been talking about playing miniature golf or going bowling for most of the summer, so I menti. . . um begg. . well, whined until we agreed to go bowling ! (If it had been sunnier, we would have gone golfing, so I totally blame the rest of this on the weather.) We went up to Port Orchard to the lanes and did us some highly redneck bowling. By that I mean neither of us had any idea of what we were doing but we both had a great time.
We bowled three games before our old decrepit parts began showing signs of wear. I swear -- who started making bowling balls out of lead, anyway ?
After three games, we were pretty famished, so we swung by one of the local places for lunch. We've eaten there before and it's been good, but this time. . . [ insert sinister music here ] we were betrayed . bump, bump, bummmmm !
It didn't hit us at first -- we came on home and began doing some chores. I went upstairs to take a nap (or so I thought), but wasn't able to fall asleep because my head started to hurt. Yep, it was one of those migraine headaches that I'm famous for. Fast forward to six hours later -- I have slogged through some of the stuff on our DVR (a Shield or two and part of LoTR) -- when I finally am able to rid myself of that which is causing my misery. [ edited for the weak of stomach ]
I think I'm fine now because I usually am, but I'm really hungry now. So. . . I eat a banana. Like I've always been told to -- it's a bland, but filling, nutrient-rich food. And it has a potassium bonus. Yep. Not fifteen minutes later, I no longer have that extra potassium.
So. . . I give up and go to bed. Don't sleep well. . . because I'm hungry. . . and when I'm hungry. . . my head hurts. Fabulous. I wake up abouuuttt a gazillionty-'leven times which is [voice="cheerleader on Jolly Rancher high"] sooper-condoocive ![/voice] to REM sleep. [/sarcasm]
Anyhoo -- I'm fine now. Got up this am and went to work in my pajamas. Okay, not really, but. . . let's just say I have another reason to be grateful that I am able to work from home some days.
Thoughts ?
27 August 2007
20 August 2007
Blackberries aren't just PDAs
Living in the Pacific Northwest is very different from living in Texas and I've found another difference. . .there are TONS of blackberry bushes up here ! It's like kudzu, only with ginormous thorns and sweet berries.
Having said that, I set myself a goal this year of ripping most of it out of our backyard. Not ever having lived with blackberries, I had no idea that they were so pervasive and invasive. What that means is -- if you leave them alone at any point, there is the distinct possibility that you will return to find them smoking cigarettes, drinking Mad Dog, and holding squirrels hostage. Yeah. . . the squirrels are fine, but they were still definitely bad news.
I put on my leather gloves and went to work. I have ripped out, by the roots, approximately twelve gazillion "runners". It could be less than that, but. . . no, it's twelve gazillion. Of course, that's only half the backyard, so I still have some work to do. In doing so, I have uncovered ferns, small trees, more ferns, Jimmy Hoffa, and a family of leprechauns.
The plan is, with most of the blackberry runners eradicated and the remaining woody stems tied up to a system of lattice work so that they will be off the ground and the berries will be easier to pick next year, I can start laying out pathways and flat spaces and marking where I want the little bridge to go. We have a little "rill" in our backyard -- it's actually just a cut in the backyard, but I plan to bed it with small river rocks, both to increase the water flow (like a French drain) and to improve the aesthetics. This will also keep most of the tree trash from damming up and looking terrible, I hope.
Anyhow, between the blackberries and the new kitty, I think I will be headed to the blood bank in the next few days -- I'm pretty sure that I'm due for that transfusion.
Thoughts ?
Having said that, I set myself a goal this year of ripping most of it out of our backyard. Not ever having lived with blackberries, I had no idea that they were so pervasive and invasive. What that means is -- if you leave them alone at any point, there is the distinct possibility that you will return to find them smoking cigarettes, drinking Mad Dog, and holding squirrels hostage. Yeah. . . the squirrels are fine, but they were still definitely bad news.
I put on my leather gloves and went to work. I have ripped out, by the roots, approximately twelve gazillion "runners". It could be less than that, but. . . no, it's twelve gazillion. Of course, that's only half the backyard, so I still have some work to do. In doing so, I have uncovered ferns, small trees, more ferns, Jimmy Hoffa, and a family of leprechauns.
The plan is, with most of the blackberry runners eradicated and the remaining woody stems tied up to a system of lattice work so that they will be off the ground and the berries will be easier to pick next year, I can start laying out pathways and flat spaces and marking where I want the little bridge to go. We have a little "rill" in our backyard -- it's actually just a cut in the backyard, but I plan to bed it with small river rocks, both to increase the water flow (like a French drain) and to improve the aesthetics. This will also keep most of the tree trash from damming up and looking terrible, I hope.
Anyhow, between the blackberries and the new kitty, I think I will be headed to the blood bank in the next few days -- I'm pretty sure that I'm due for that transfusion.
Thoughts ?
03 August 2007
You say "coulis", I say "AAAAAGH" !
So. . . I've been feeling fairly ambitious the past few weeks. My creativity monkey has really been a weight on my back, but I've been so dang busy with work that I didn't want to do anything but veg out when I was done.
Anyhoo. . . I've sandwiched little things in here and there because if I didn't, well. . . I would just explode. [-P To that end, I have about a dozen eggs that I have messed with, along with stringing a really cool necklace (I think so, anyhow), and a pair of crocheted and beaded flip-flops. . . you get the picture.
In the back of my mind, tho, I've been obsessed with making a raspberry sauce. No, I don't know why. Probably the same reason I whomped out a batch of mocha-chocolate shortbread the other day (only I substituted finely chopped Hershey's Raspberry Special Dark Kisses for the morsels that the recipe called for). Holy macaroni, but those were goooooood !
Back to the raspberry stuff. I found a recipe for raspberry coulis, which requires cooking, which made it "legal" for the creativity cop in my head. (Apparently, smashing raspberries together with some sugar and straining out the seeds doesn't really have a Julia Child kinda feel to it.) *sigh* I found the recipe about three weeks ago. Yeah. Absorb that for a mo.
1) I have bought FOUR sets of raspberries for this stinkin' recipe.
2) Three have gone bad while the stars aligned for the "right time" to create my masterpiece. The birds in our backyard are starting to have just a smidge of a red tint, they've eaten so many of my soon-to-be-compost,-I-swear "offerings".
3) I tried to make it at noon yesterday, but. . . that became the third set to get tossed as soon as I saw the fuzziyuckity.
4) I promise myself that if I get through my work day without a) screaming, b) snapping, or c) crying. . . I will run out and get more berries and try again last night.
Set the stage in your mind:
Late last night, I now have in my possession. . .
a) berries
b) a lemon (which is required for the recipe, but that I kept forgetting about)
c) corn starch (who knew it was so good at hide & seek in the pantry ?)
d) a saucepan of the right size and dimension and
e) a blender -- required to pulverize the amount of berries and water the recipe calls for)
I have dumped the measured berries and the water in the blender, I have the empty sauce pan on the stove, I have sliced the lemon and juiced it correctly, and I have the sugar measured. All that remains is to puree the berries so that I can squish them through the "fine sieve". (Yeah, already had one of those. Take THAT, stupid stars ! Nanner, nanner !)
I hit the button on the blender ! Annnnd. . . errrrrrrrrgh.
BRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP
No workie.
I hit the button AGAIN ! Ah HA !
BRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP
Still no workie.
The dogs hear, with their supersonic (old & blind deaf as a post Momma must need our help because we are blender experts !) ears and make countless trips into the kitchen at which point I scream at them to GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN !
Those of you who have cooked in my kitchen understand because they are the worst rugs ever. They ease up behind you and collapse silently just behind your feet, so that when you step back, you a) step on them, b) stumble (because you've just stepped on something that is not the solid floor you expected), c) somehow manage to lift your entire body up using nothing but immense willpower and air molecules (because you don't WANT to step on them, causing them (AND YOU) possible horrendous injury), d) pull muscles you didn't know EXISTED because you are managing to rip open the space/time continuum to avoid a heinous disaster (you are, of course, usually juggling something hot from the stove, or watery, or both), and e) attempting to restrain yourself from blistering the paint off the walls by shrieking obscenities at the object of your imminent demise. But I digress. . .
At this point, I feel the bile rising. I pull the blender components apart, verify that, without the blender jar on top, the mechanism works just fiiiiiine. Ziiiiiing ! Ziiiiing ! But, hey -- I kinda NEED that blender jar thingy to work while it's ON the mechanism. That's really the whole purpose of a blender MECHANISM. I poke around it for a while. . .still no workie.
The dogs have decided to continue their level of support and I continue to pound the GET OUT drum. Robert comes to help (Yay ! A human helper !) and . . .well, let's just say that as he was checking the blender, after I managed to cleverly step on the piece of raspberry on the floor and grind it in to the new kitchen rug, causing a big red stain, he decided that upstairs might be safer for all concerned (him).
I didn't know that I could peel out going downhill and backward at a 45 degree angle to get to the main street. That was quite a revelation.
Three stores later. . . it's eight o'clock and neither of the grocery stores I zoomed around to sell small appliances. Yeah. The DRUGSTORE does, tho. Quite an interesting thing to discover, I must say. Thirty-five of the best dollars I have ever spent later, I am the proud owner of a fine new blender. I drive home with my favoritist new purchase in hand and ready myself for COULIS TIME !
Suffice it to say, THIS blender works.
A whole mess of blended berries and water later. . . which actually looks quite disgusting. . . I begin the process of STRAINING this mess into my little sieve. Several lessons learned. Never make this recipe if you have the slightest hint of OCD. It doesn't say how carefully you need to strain anything, which means you don't really know how much juicy stuff you should have when you're done, plus I did it about three times because I didn't know how juicy the "solids" should be. I was a raspberry juice pig. Don't fill the entire sieve up with the liquid. It's just a pain if you do and seeds fall over the side into the other bowl. A small cup-type measuring cup is a godsend. Smash this carefully inside the sieve to push out the liquid. It takes forever to sieve out the seeds and the "solids". Yucko. And it sticks to the bottom of your measuring cup and is gucky. Gross. Yell at dogs.
At the end of the sieving process, you have about a half a mixing bowl full of bright red liquid. YAY ! Carefully avoid dogs who are both in your kitchen (again) and take bowl over to the stove. Pour liquid into the saucepan (again carefully because it's a) liquid and b) STAINY RED). Set it up to boil and go start on the 1358233584594867338574306.9 dishes you have dirtied up in the sieving process detailed above. Get a third of the way through soaping up dishes. Rinse hands. Check on red juicy stuff because it's not boiling yet. Turn up the heat.
Return to sink and soap up exactly two more dishes before the LAVA POT begins steaming and rattling. Fling dishes (carefully) down into the sink and sprint to the stove. Avoid dog 1. Avoid dog 2 who is watching with intent concentration. The fact that she is watching exactly NOTHING is not really a consideration at this point. Realize that you still have soap on your hands and sprint back to sink to rinse hands and dry on towel. Hear lava pot continue to hiss and despair of coulis scorching on the bottom. Avoid dogs again. Twice. Stir sauce while quickly turning down heat on the stove. Set timer for four minutes of cook time. Realize that sauce is fine, dogs are fine, you are fine. Stand for a moment in utter disbelief.
Return to sink and wash more dishes. Pile them all up onto the drainer and realize. . . no more room. Decide to leave remaining dishes in the sink and get them tomorrow. Timer pings to check sauce.
Sauce GOOD !
Sauce. . . omg ! There's TONS of it ! How are we ever going to eat all this ? Panic because I'm not sure I have enough containers to store it in. Make mental note to NEVER make this much again ! A quarter recipe would have been plenty !
Anticlimax: Sauce good. Sauce stored successfully. Dishes (mostly) done. Blender functional. Dogs alive. Floor. . . well, anyway, the sauce was good.
Thoughts ?
Anyhoo. . . I've sandwiched little things in here and there because if I didn't, well. . . I would just explode. [-P To that end, I have about a dozen eggs that I have messed with, along with stringing a really cool necklace (I think so, anyhow), and a pair of crocheted and beaded flip-flops. . . you get the picture.
In the back of my mind, tho, I've been obsessed with making a raspberry sauce. No, I don't know why. Probably the same reason I whomped out a batch of mocha-chocolate shortbread the other day (only I substituted finely chopped Hershey's Raspberry Special Dark Kisses for the morsels that the recipe called for). Holy macaroni, but those were goooooood !
Back to the raspberry stuff. I found a recipe for raspberry coulis, which requires cooking, which made it "legal" for the creativity cop in my head. (Apparently, smashing raspberries together with some sugar and straining out the seeds doesn't really have a Julia Child kinda feel to it.) *sigh* I found the recipe about three weeks ago. Yeah. Absorb that for a mo.
1) I have bought FOUR sets of raspberries for this stinkin' recipe.
2) Three have gone bad while the stars aligned for the "right time" to create my masterpiece. The birds in our backyard are starting to have just a smidge of a red tint, they've eaten so many of my soon-to-be-compost,-I-swear "offerings".
3) I tried to make it at noon yesterday, but. . . that became the third set to get tossed as soon as I saw the fuzziyuckity.
4) I promise myself that if I get through my work day without a) screaming, b) snapping, or c) crying. . . I will run out and get more berries and try again last night.
Set the stage in your mind:
Late last night, I now have in my possession. . .
a) berries
b) a lemon (which is required for the recipe, but that I kept forgetting about)
c) corn starch (who knew it was so good at hide & seek in the pantry ?)
d) a saucepan of the right size and dimension and
e) a blender -- required to pulverize the amount of berries and water the recipe calls for)
I have dumped the measured berries and the water in the blender, I have the empty sauce pan on the stove, I have sliced the lemon and juiced it correctly, and I have the sugar measured. All that remains is to puree the berries so that I can squish them through the "fine sieve". (Yeah, already had one of those. Take THAT, stupid stars ! Nanner, nanner !)
I hit the button on the blender ! Annnnd. . . errrrrrrrrgh.
BRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP
No workie.
I hit the button AGAIN ! Ah HA !
BRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP
Still no workie.
The dogs hear, with their supersonic (old & blind deaf as a post Momma must need our help because we are blender experts !) ears and make countless trips into the kitchen at which point I scream at them to GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN !
Those of you who have cooked in my kitchen understand because they are the worst rugs ever. They ease up behind you and collapse silently just behind your feet, so that when you step back, you a) step on them, b) stumble (because you've just stepped on something that is not the solid floor you expected), c) somehow manage to lift your entire body up using nothing but immense willpower and air molecules (because you don't WANT to step on them, causing them (AND YOU) possible horrendous injury), d) pull muscles you didn't know EXISTED because you are managing to rip open the space/time continuum to avoid a heinous disaster (you are, of course, usually juggling something hot from the stove, or watery, or both), and e) attempting to restrain yourself from blistering the paint off the walls by shrieking obscenities at the object of your imminent demise. But I digress. . .
At this point, I feel the bile rising. I pull the blender components apart, verify that, without the blender jar on top, the mechanism works just fiiiiiine. Ziiiiiing ! Ziiiiing ! But, hey -- I kinda NEED that blender jar thingy to work while it's ON the mechanism. That's really the whole purpose of a blender MECHANISM. I poke around it for a while. . .still no workie.
The dogs have decided to continue their level of support and I continue to pound the GET OUT drum. Robert comes to help (Yay ! A human helper !) and . . .well, let's just say that as he was checking the blender, after I managed to cleverly step on the piece of raspberry on the floor and grind it in to the new kitchen rug, causing a big red stain, he decided that upstairs might be safer for all concerned (him).
I didn't know that I could peel out going downhill and backward at a 45 degree angle to get to the main street. That was quite a revelation.
Three stores later. . . it's eight o'clock and neither of the grocery stores I zoomed around to sell small appliances. Yeah. The DRUGSTORE does, tho. Quite an interesting thing to discover, I must say. Thirty-five of the best dollars I have ever spent later, I am the proud owner of a fine new blender. I drive home with my favoritist new purchase in hand and ready myself for COULIS TIME !
Suffice it to say, THIS blender works.
A whole mess of blended berries and water later. . . which actually looks quite disgusting. . . I begin the process of STRAINING this mess into my little sieve. Several lessons learned. Never make this recipe if you have the slightest hint of OCD. It doesn't say how carefully you need to strain anything, which means you don't really know how much juicy stuff you should have when you're done, plus I did it about three times because I didn't know how juicy the "solids" should be. I was a raspberry juice pig. Don't fill the entire sieve up with the liquid. It's just a pain if you do and seeds fall over the side into the other bowl. A small cup-type measuring cup is a godsend. Smash this carefully inside the sieve to push out the liquid. It takes forever to sieve out the seeds and the "solids". Yucko. And it sticks to the bottom of your measuring cup and is gucky. Gross. Yell at dogs.
At the end of the sieving process, you have about a half a mixing bowl full of bright red liquid. YAY ! Carefully avoid dogs who are both in your kitchen (again) and take bowl over to the stove. Pour liquid into the saucepan (again carefully because it's a) liquid and b) STAINY RED). Set it up to boil and go start on the 1358233584594867338574306.9 dishes you have dirtied up in the sieving process detailed above. Get a third of the way through soaping up dishes. Rinse hands. Check on red juicy stuff because it's not boiling yet. Turn up the heat.
Return to sink and soap up exactly two more dishes before the LAVA POT begins steaming and rattling. Fling dishes (carefully) down into the sink and sprint to the stove. Avoid dog 1. Avoid dog 2 who is watching with intent concentration. The fact that she is watching exactly NOTHING is not really a consideration at this point. Realize that you still have soap on your hands and sprint back to sink to rinse hands and dry on towel. Hear lava pot continue to hiss and despair of coulis scorching on the bottom. Avoid dogs again. Twice. Stir sauce while quickly turning down heat on the stove. Set timer for four minutes of cook time. Realize that sauce is fine, dogs are fine, you are fine. Stand for a moment in utter disbelief.
Return to sink and wash more dishes. Pile them all up onto the drainer and realize. . . no more room. Decide to leave remaining dishes in the sink and get them tomorrow. Timer pings to check sauce.
Sauce GOOD !
Sauce. . . omg ! There's TONS of it ! How are we ever going to eat all this ? Panic because I'm not sure I have enough containers to store it in. Make mental note to NEVER make this much again ! A quarter recipe would have been plenty !
Anticlimax: Sauce good. Sauce stored successfully. Dishes (mostly) done. Blender functional. Dogs alive. Floor. . . well, anyway, the sauce was good.
Thoughts ?
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