shutup or I’ll frost you
My best friend from library school is part of a pair. She is tall, big boned, has thick, wavy red hair, and beautiful white skin with tons of freckles covering her big solid body. Her older sister is short, thin, with corkscrew curled red hair, and the matching white skin and freckles. Both are just beautiful, although I happen to prefer my friend’s bright and generous looks to her sister’s petite ladylike looks. It’s just an aesthetic thing, not a quantitative thing.
So my huge, beautiful friend used to tell her teeny weeny older sister ’shutup or I’ll sit on you!’ I thought that was sooooo funny on so many levels. Like, if I have to be this big I am going to own it, and take advantage of it. And since she was so much bigger than her teeny weeny older sister, it would have been bad news for teeny weeny, too.
So I was cleaning up the mess from my new mania tonight– lemon cutout cookies from the Vegan with a Vengeance cookbook, covered in a mixture of 1/4 c each vegan butter and soymilk, 2 c flour, and a bit of almond flavoring and food color. The colors of the frosting are so deep and so beautiful, and I bought all these beautiful sanding sugars too, and the worst part is, the cookies are so damn good that I have to eat them as soon as I frost them. They are gorgeous, but nobody will ever know because I can’t stop eating them. I’ve made four batches of these cookies since Sunday or Monday. I simply can’t stop.
Tonight I frosted another batch and then finally got a grip and put it all away. I was finally able to do so without having an anxiety attack. I promised myself I can get them out again, any time I need them. I hated to throw the last of the frosting away. I almost couldn’t do it. I could make just one more batch…
So as I cleaned I picked up and brandished my little cheapie frosting squisher from the dollar rack at Tarjay (I need to break down and get a real pastry bag) and thought of all the things I could frost. I could frost my furniture, appliances, walls and floors, my dogs…
Consider yourself warned.
And shutup or you’ll be next.
tireder than dammit
Tahini sauce, falafels (more like fritters cause I made the batter too thin) tabbouleh and megadarra– I have got to learn to be quicker in the kitchen. I guess I’ll get used to it. You know, my husband [who is most graciously acting happy to take leftovers for lunch tomorrow, what a sweetie!] did all the cooking for a long time. And you know what else? The reason there’s more cleaning to do all of a sudden is that… nobody cleaned before. And there’s a double whammy… not only do I think I should have all this time to clean, but we’re home, and cooking, and playing, and messing it up.
I’m not complaining, particularly. Or, maybe I am. My bed calls, and I have cramps, and I think my poor kid was such a brat today because she suffers from side effects of singulair, which I happened to give her this morning… but I am soooo happy to be complaining about this, rather than thinking about going to my shitty job tomorrow. We are broke, yes. But I am happy.
And I do love that bed.
blessing way
It was supposed to be for the pregnant women, but I felt awfully blessed myself.
Don’t think I’m a freak (even if I am, you don’t have to tell me) but there’s just something really special about massaging your pregnant friend’s hand after her paraffin dip. Our society so rarely allows touch to be comfortable unless it’s between a mother and a small child, sexual partners, or a paying client and a massage therapist. It’s sad. But I’m so acutely conscious of that taboo that I really respect it all the time, even when I’d rather not. My mother’s family, and my Best Old Friend’s family, are touchy. I love it and I miss it in my life.
It’s nice to have a context in which it’s appropriate to just do healing, caring touch because you like someone, no strings or weirdness of any sort attached. Energetically speaking (because that’s what I do) that was the high point for me, I think. That was the moment I could feel really nurturing and grateful for the friendships.
Everyone brought yummy food or craft or gift items. I was particularly proud of the fuzzy slippers, but it was all yummy — beaded friendship bracelets and paraffin dips and foot spas and scrap book pages and flowers and eye pillows and aromatherapy and food food food!
It wouldn’t have happened without the generosity of the attendees… and my husband spent about two hours cleaning this morning– things that bothered me, of course, but I just didn’t have time to fool with it and so was going to let it go. Then he hid away with the kids upstairs for three and a half hours so that we could have girl space.
This is one milestone I really needed to clear before I could get on with my life. And I have much to get on with, but that is fodder for another post.
Now I have to bust my ass to finish the baby quilt for the next pregnant lady event. It will be my pleasure. I got my sewing machine out to do the eye pillows so it’s just a quick step to starting to sew that quilt top. Maybe I have enough for two to even three girl babies, if the one whose mommy won’t find out or reveal his gender happens to be a girl–but I predict boy, let me go on the record as predicting boy, cause of how he sits– hope we get to find out soon!
on veing vegan
I know it’s weird. I’ve been in the south so long that no other mode of feeding myself has made sense to me in years. Grease, gravy, meat, lard, white flour, dairy, eggs, sugar, these are the good things in life. The Farm Journal cookbook my mother had when I was a child still has quite a grip on my sense of good eatin’.
But on the side… my parents were always raising a garden or harvesting fruit off of trees. My mother was making peace corps peanut butter stew on occasion, and other experimental high nutrition, uh, delicacies. She baked most of our treats rather than buying them. My parents made, when time and crops permitted, wines, jams, jellies, maple syrup even. My father swore off white bread, cool whip (ooh was I pissed about that), ‘pasteurized process cheese food,’ and hydrogenated margarines and other fats. So I guess the seeds were being planted.
I know I don’t have to explain myself. But here’s an article that talks about the poisons in our meat and dairy.
http://www.nealhendrickson.com/mcdougall/2004nl/040800pucesspool.htm
I guess you could say it’s probably just propaganda. Everyone seems to have an angle or a ‘cure’ or some snake oil to sell… because of healing school, I’m not really about that. Our soul destiny is our soul destiny, it’s magical thinking to imagine we understand true cause and effect on every level, and it’s not the content of our decisions that matter, but the spirit and awareness of them.
And you know the real reason for me is animal cruelty, which is as bad in the dairy and egg industry as in the meat industry. But the benefits of stepping away and eating whole foods and meals rich in veggie proteins and flavors are just a wonderful side effect.
Moderation in all things, and to each his own… my kids are going to be exposed to processed nonvegan food when they socialize, in school lunches, etc. Hell. I ate pizza with cheese at Stevi B’s with my husband yesterday, and polished off my child’s velveeta shells and cheese, which we ate because we can’t afford to waste food.
I don’t feel like being a veganazi.
But I am enjoying working on our budget and menus so much, and I think it will have real benefits for us in the long run. I love my husband for being willing to taste and choke down these strange meals. The kids have to taste everything but I don’t make them eat much, just a few bites of each weird entree, and then we can have peanut butter and jelly or something. The kids will, if nothing else, experience a reduction in the toxins their bodies have to fight, and will be exposed to a broader range of what can be considered delicious and good food.
It’s such a sea change for me… not only being willing to care for myself and improve the quality of my life, but really having a zest for it.
last day off
I had the best day yesterday. It was one of those rare days when I can simply resolve to enjoy it and let everything else go. We went to the park, played World of Warcraft, ate a stunningly delicious soul food supper (as soul as a white girl can make it anyway) of black eyed peas, cabbage, corn muffins with butter and Alaga syrup, smashed potatoes, sweet potato pie and sugar glazed ham for the meat eaters.
The day was cold, but it was, uh, bracing, and made us happier to get inside. One of my close circle of friends had been out of town for what felt like weeks, so we got out and walked.
And oh, was that food delicious. I surprised even myself. I really am a frustrated B&B with optional family style suppers owner operator. Except my B and B wouldn’t be precious and persnickety, not like the ones I’ve been to, with lace doilies and priceless knicknacks (though I must admit I was darned impressed by the scottie-dog shaped silver knife rests, where on earth could I get some of those?)… mine will be full of heavy, substantial, comfortable furniture, with natural or low warm electric light and not a doily to be seen. It will be the kind of place where you can put your feet right up on the expensive, sturdy antique (or Pottery Barn) furniture in the common rooms and have a stiff whiskey highball from my well stocked bar and read the paper. Though I hope that I will have well quit smoking by then, I hope it will also be the sort of place that is reminiscent of the era when smoking was customary, and welcoming to however few smokers there are left. But heck, there are always pipes, and cigars, right?
Anyhoo.
Today was a little bit more nervous as I go back to work tomorrow, but I’ve tried to keep my eyes on the prize– doing what I want to rather than what I think I’m supposed to. I ended up writing a three page public relations manifesto in service of the good works organization that has my husband, who volunteers for them, knocking his brains against the wall at least every other month. That was satisfying work, though. I met another friend at the park, managed to walk a while, made a healthy vegetarian dinner (I figured my husband and stepson would sneak out to McDonalds afterward, but as it happened that’s what they had for lunch, so too bad) and concentrated on enjoying today rather than on my almost pathological dread of going to work tomorrow. Good attitude zen work will set you free blah blah and so on. Shudder. Tomorrow.
Tonight husband and kids are at Target getting my stepson the clothes required for school. I’m reading Freddy and Fredericka, which is a ruthless and compassionate satire. How can it be both? This author is really something. The amazing details of this work, so many layers, whew. I’m not truly hooked yet, but I’m well into it, a hundred pages or so? One of the critical blurbs said ‘the fastest 800 page novel you will ever read. Okay.
what do you buy a girl turning four? and how I worked that out, with some goodies for me and parenting philosophy on the side
I know what I want to give my child, when she turns four in March.
But what for the little girls in her classroom who are turning four and giving parties this week?
The ridiculous and ugly stuff marketed to little girls these days reinforces so many things I don’t want to encourage– traditional female roles, consumer culture, ugly plastic aesthetic, low to fleeting imagination or creativity value… but I can’t impose my snobberies on others’ children. And I can’t afford Magic Cabin for everyone. I can’t even afford it for her. And plus it’s too late to order Magic Cabin.
I know if I called these parents they would say please don’t bring anything, just come. I know that’s what I would say. And I would mean it, too. But I have a feeling it would be a serious violation of Expensive Montessori School Social Code not to bring something. You play, you pay. One little girl is my child’s especial playmate, and I would really like to get to know the other’s mom…
[The next day]
I enlisted the help of my mom’s group friends, who had wonderful helpful ideas… and then wouldn’t you know, I had a Barnes and Noble gift card to spend on myself and my husband, so I walked into the book store and did the librarian birthday gift after all.
I purchased a Moongirl DVD/Book set for each girl. Ah, now it is done! But of course I don’t have any wrapping paper except Christmas. Too bad. I guess I better hit the Dollar General. Anyhoo, this is a wonderful story, with wonderful edgy art and a fabulous soundtrack for the DVD featuring the ever versatile and hardworking They Might Be Giants.
At first I wanted to give Robert Sabuda’s popup Alice in Wonderland, which is a truly complex and beautiful work of art. But there were two copies of Moongirl, and only one copy of the Sabuda… so guess who gets the Sabuda? That’s right. Moi.
I am a Tenniel Snob. Two brown ‘leather’ bound volumes, dated 1974 inside the front cover in my father’s handwriting, containing the entire unabridged stories and the original Tenniel illustrations, still sit on my shelf. They may be the two most important works to my inner and imaginative landscape, as well as my literary aesthetic, of my entire childhood. I remember being about four and having a pair of brown wing tipped mary janes (oh to have those shoes again, some for me and some for my girls!) that I called my Alice in Wonderland shoes.
I have raised my little girl to be sort of a rough-and-tumble consumer of all media, pedestrian and ugly as well as beautiful and original. Our home is a far cry from the dark, quiet, rarefied, nearly tv free space that characterized my childhood. Sometimes I wish I’d been more careful with her, but… ever since she walked at nine months I have sort of thrown my hands up regarding forcing her to conform to my expectations and decided to pick my battles and let her make (the less harmful of) her own choices. I scour my friends’ libraries for truly beautiful and rich works of art for kids– M and W have put me on to the awesome Miyazaki anime films, for example, although I am disappointed that I get them dubbed in English rather than in the original Japanese– and hope that I am giving her a balanced smorgasbord of choices of theme, culture, and artistic style.
But I digress.
Every once in a while I run across a work of children’s literature that restores my faith in the children’s publishing industry and in the media world’s power in general to produce something truly beautiful and worthwhile.
The Sabuda is sort of the Tenniel work on acid (as if the original Tenniel illustrations weren’t acidic enough!!). [And let me clarify that I have never done acid. Never. I did chew up a tiny shroom one time but it did nothing for me and it was too nasty to attempt to eat any more. But I think I know it, or what our society characterizes as it, when I see it.] The 3-dimensional popups are huge, intricately detailed, beautifully colored, and give delightful views for the story from many angles– look down the accordion-pleated rabbit hole, or through cellophane windows into the house where the giant Alice is trapped! I haven’t read it through, so I’ll weigh in on how well the abridgment of the story works soon. But since it makes me so happy artistically, I’ll love it no matter what. I’m such a hoarder I believe I may purchase another copy or two today off of Amazon…
along with a copy of Skinny Bitch. The title and cover illustration are a clever marketing trick which, I am ashamed to say, worked on me, but I cracked it and read a few pages in the store, and just now read the customer reviews on Amazon. You know I just quit eating meat (except last night I had a few bites of delectable lasagne that I made myself, with meat, because we forgot to make me a little meat free one on the side), and I gather this book gives a lot of information about nutrition and the food industry that everyone needs to make informed choices about what we eat. If it’s in a no holds barred, listen here girlfriend while I tell you straight so you can take responsibility and live a happier healthier life format, so much the better.
We just lost power here for several minutes. Our infrastructure in this community is such that the slightest variation in weather– today, heavy but not exactly monsoon rain– throws our power grid into a tizzy. Anyway, I adore wordpress.com because it saves posts constantly. I lost very little work.
So. It’s New Year’s Eve.
I have lots to do including all my housecleaning so that I don’t have to wash my good luck away tomorrow, soaking black eyed peas and cooking sweet potatoes for sweet potato pie, taking shaky baby to that party at about 12.30 which involves getting us both showered and dressed, and taking a fearless and searching inventory (to quote Lindsay Lohan) of last year’s accomplishments and my hopes for next year. I’d better run along.
screw it, it’s Christmas
That’s what I was thinking last night, anyway.
I have not managed to really dig in and enjoy this season. I LOVE this time of year. I love to plan, hoard, wrap, scheme, budget, shop, mail, find a bargain. But between working, and budget hassles from slow reimbursement of work travel expenses, and getting my stepkids ten days before Christmas and sending one of them home the day after… we decided to do Christmas early and it messed me ALL up.
No it didn’t! We have each other, and our health (except for a little ear infection, but at least it’s not asthma or strep) and our home, and our stretched budget is still a generous budget. It’s a nontraditional Christmas and we handle it with love and grace and land on our feet. That’s how we roll.
Isn’t it?
We’ve already opened presents, and I am feeling a little sick that there won’t be a second, huge drift of presents under the tree on Christmas. Even though my ten year old stepson takes great pride in telling us there’s no Santa… it’s so weird hearing the exciting words x days til Christmas!
Never mind that we’ve already spent hundreds of dollars on these kids. I long to buy more and surprise them. But that’s crazy talk! Why must the magic of Christmas be tied to spending, and stuff, when we love them so much and have already worked so hard to give them things they’ll love, early no less.
Heck I could spend the Christmas checks my parents and grandmother sent us, the parents, who so far have gotten bubkes from each other– okay, I got silky red jammies from wal mart and he got a rubik’s 5×5. But the money we’ve worked hard to save and spend goes straight to those kids. Except for the Solstice book and the Roches We Three Kings, that is. Anyhoo, we could do without even more to swamp the kids with even more crap they’ll use for a time and put away.
I am trying to hard to stay centered on being present with the kids, but buying things is such an easy way out. I’m going to have to sort something special out for Christmas day, and it doesn’t have to cost money, for Christ’s sake (so to speak)! But that’s the thing…to my mind, doing wonderful things that don’t cost money requires planning. We seem to have more money than time. Flylady where are you? The same place where my reimbursement for my travel was, I reckon.
I have a head cold, which comes hard on the heels of my chest cold of the last 3 weeks, but I am damned if I am not going to have a great party today!
I want that Amy Sedaris book. If our budget will ever settle out I can decide whether I can have it.
Anyway.
I spent about three hours at the doctor’s office yesterday, which I might’ve spent shopping, although my husband offered to do it all, so maybe not. Anyway it wasn’t strep, and we don’t think she has asthma any more, but with three kids and myself starving for lunch, we managed to drop off the scrip but not to get back out and get it, and then I had a wonderful, needed appointment which should have ended at six but didn’t end til almost seven.
I thought I was on C* Hill but I was really on Fisk– wha? Where the hell is Fisk? And how did I end up down on South B.?
So I missed seven pm, which is when the Bruno’s pharmacy closes, and didn’t get the baby’s antibiotics. She woke up with ear infection pain in the night, which makes me even worse than a bad mom. I hate Bruno’s pharmacy. I knew I should have bit the bullet and gone to a new one, a 24 hour one, yesterday. From now on, I swear, I will.
At TJ Maxx some guy looked me right in the eye, with my two items, and walked in front of me in the checkout line. [I talked to my Latina friend about this later and she said, oooh, no he didn't. I'd have gone Latina on him. She gave me some lessons for next time, including the head/shoulder circle. But shit, it was Christmas, right? I don't want to be just like him, do I? And hell, maybe he was feeling as tired and brain dead as I was. Still, she has a point. Not being so nice all the time would alleviate a lot of issues, both in my home and in my office and in the real world.]
And that very pleasant checkout lady? Slow as molasses, almost aggressively so. She *walked away* to complete some task with several people waiting in line. Far away. And then came back to ring me up and was sooo pleasant.
The checkout lady at Winn Dixie said, I’m waiting on you to give me some cash or slide your card or something… was I supposed to DIVINE that she was done toting up my groceries?
It was raining and I’m not a very good night driver and when it rains I can’t see the lines on the road and someone cut me off so I missed my turn in about three different places.
I aimlessly drove around for a bit. I tried to keep it together and stay happy– it’s Christmas, screw it!
But here’s the topper. At the Fresh Market I mistakenly WALKED OFF WITH SOME OTHER LADY’S CART. WITH HER PURSE IN IT. And you know those dry, entitled, perfectly coiffed women who shop at the Fresh Market, right? Oh man. My own cart was right there. It would have been funny if I wasn’t so tired. I’m lucky she didn’t call the police.
I was pressure shopping for our party today. I have come to two party planning truths.
1. Shop the day BEFORE the day before. Then you can cook the day before, then you can relax the day of.
2. He who’s doing the cooking should also do the shopping. If he or she is not cooking, he or she has no way to mind read exactly what quantity of pecans, or that I really did mean plain Hershey Bars rather than miniature Krackels, Goodbars, etc.
Yes, we’re going to be suburban campers and do microwave s’mores. The kids will love it I hope??
So, it’s time to cook. It’s been time to cook for a bit. But it’s going to be okay. After I cried into the kitchen sink when I found that my husband bought 1/2 cup of pecans instead of the metric assload I needed, meaning no pecan crescents– something about those pecans sent me over the edge, eh? Or was it the fact that it was ten at night, I’d been out for hours ineffectively trying to shop, I have my period AND a cold? But I digress. After I cried into the sink, and then cried into the fridge, I got the brisket loaded and primed with my special secret recipe, made the bacon blue cheese dip, the onion dip and the ranch dip. I’m, like, 1/3 of the way there!
I didn’t get a lot of sleep though, anxious, snoring husband, baby with ear pain, guilt.
So I’m going to find something pleasant and silly on the TV or radio and get to work. I need to tie myself into the outside world for a bit, find some false, consumerist gaiety. Because as crippled as it is, secular, consumerist Christmas culture is, honestly, okay with me, you know? It’s kind of a relief. Or, maybe since I’m so weirded out by the fact that we opened Christmas a week before the rest of the world, I’ll just head on off to pagan land. Yes, that might be better.
And you know, come noon, when I’m sure there’s no more driving to do, I’ll crack open the Maker’s Mark and have a nice cocktail, and take a bubble bath, and all will be well.
Brisket (I’m not eating meat but for a special occasion I don’t mind preparing it and letting others enjoy it. Don’t underestimate the power of this recipe!), vegetables, Alabama Biscuits, Chips and Dip, pecan wedding cookies, pumpkin brownies, sweet tea, y’all come!
fettucini alla bergamasca
[My child is watching Chicken Little for, like, the twentieth time straight for, like, the twentieth straight day.]
I got this recipe off the Fisher Walnuts package.
It was quite good– 1/2 c chopped walnuts (I chop them smaller) 3 cloves garlic, pressed (I use the cheater garlic that comes in little bitty cubes in a jar) olive oil to sautee garlic and nuts, salt and black pepper (PLENTY of pepper) 1/2 c fresh basil if you can get it, I couldn’t so I used about 8 shakes of dry, 3T sour cream 3T milk 2 oz parmesan cheese (which is more than you might think). Sautee the nuts and garlic in the olive oil about two minutes, add salt and tons of black pepper, let cool slightly and mix in the sour cream, milk, basil and cheese.
I didn’t come anywhere near exact proportions. I did not measure at all. It was so easy to just guestimate and throw together and it was delicious.
I served it to my long suffering meat eating husband on whole wheat fettucine, which my husband despises, coated in more olive oil.
It was good. And he pretty much ate the whole pan.
I think the whole walnut/olive oil/garlic on top of whole grain pasta is going to be a mainstay for me. I wish I could go without the dairy products too, but that ain’t happening, not yet. I need to get back in to Vegan with a Vengeance and persevere.
Off to my book club meeting– Orhan Pamuk’s Istanbul: Memories and the City.
sometimes you just have to bake.
Have you ever felt so bad you just walked in the kitchen and made a cake?
[Or so good, for that matter? When at sixteen my brother walked away from a dangerous wreck unharmed my mother went straight home and baked a cake.]
I have always thought that there wasn’t much that baking a cake wouldn’t help.
Tonight I was so grumpy. I have to go to work tomorrow. My sweet fantasy of staying home has disappeared with the weekend. The day slipped away so quickly.
Getting things done for Christmas didn’t quite unfold as the orderly joyful process I envisioned. I don’t have the curtains done. We didn’t finish the present ordering until just an hour or so ago, after many hours of agonizing that they wouldn’t arrive on time [and of course, even when we order weeks ahead of time, and we have Christmas on Christmas instead of a week early like we're doing this year, stuff doesn't always arrive on time]. Shaky baby’s been awfully grouchy for a while now, and I think I have a cold, and I have to travel tomorrow… and the kids will be here Friday! I want more than anything to stay home and just peacefully work on my home and the holiday. I have to remember what a blessing a job is.
So, I was so grouchy, and had a hundred other things to do… but I just had to bake. It cheered shaky baby up considerably to ‘help’ me, too.
I stole the recipe from The Vegan Chef but I improvised some. I hear that is pretty common for vegan cooking. I used 1/4 cup of soft tofu instead of egg replacer, and just dumped a box of brown sugar in, and I wish I’d had more orange zest but I was just too lazy to cut it, and why oh why do these vegans never, ever salt anything??? I automatically add a teaspoon to everything I ever make.
I baked, and while it was in the oven I shined my sink and put in some laundry, per flylady.
And do you know, it helped my attitude a lot? It was very soothing. I felt better even before I tasted them.
And it’s only just after nine, and the brownies are darn good.
Did you know Sam’s Choice chocolate chips have no dairy in them? They’re tasty, too.
vegan/vegetarian thanksgiving
I don’t think hot ginger cranberry relish or chutney will be the same if it’s not sitting on a block of cream cheese. I don’t know how to navigate that one.
But it will be great fun to work up vegan sweet potato pie and pumpkin pie… I already have a wonderful recipe for vegan pumpkin muffins…
The PETA nut roast with stuffing is pretty dang good, although I hesitate to present it to anyone who hasn’t shown, in advance, tolerance for and interest in trying things vegan. I couldn’t pull myself together to make it until the Sunday after Thanksgiving, but it was quite good. Even my husband liked it.
I used roasted, salted cashews though. We just can’t live without our salt around here. Another thing that made it so very delicious is that I spilled the black pepper into it. So there was way too much pepper in it, or so I thought. And it was good good.
Wonder if I’ll be brave enough to try the homemade tofurkey thing. Supposedly it slices like luncheon meat. That would be handy for the reubens I love sooooooo much.
These Maple Wheat Rolls don’t sound half bad either. And vegan green bean casserole on this page might not be bad??? I don’t know. We’re pretty hard core about our traditional green bean casserole round here, due to two secret ingredients, and it’s definitely not vegan. Sometimes, especially being new to all this, I guess I have to pick my battles.
Okay here’s the toughie.
My husband and kids LOVE to boil butter on a little can of sterno and stick in little tiny bits of ribeye. We, or formerly we, eat that with pots of onion dip, sliced raw veggies, and garlic yeast rolls also smothered in butter. Somehow I don’t think the southern baked tofu is going to be the same, no matter how rich it is.
What else, what else?
