Holiday Baking

I love the holidays. As I get older I still love receiving gifts, but giving gifts is becoming more stressful with each passing year. What does one do in this situation? Bake! To the people that know accomplished bakers this is a welcome gift, but to the people that know me...beware!

Today I made about 11 trips down the baking aisle at the grocery store looking for items that I had never purchased before, such as peppermint extract and unflavored gelatin. I also witnessed a woman break a bag of sugar and leave it leaking on the floor while she scurried away, then when one of the store employees walked by and tried to pick up the spilling bag I felt really guilty even though I didn't do it. While I was shopping I somehow convinced that boy that I like to clean up the kitchen. He even organized one of the cabinets to make room for the 16 pounds of sugar and nuts I bought (I knew I liked him for a reason)!

I came home and declared the kitchen table as my own. It is where I have set up shop until the weekend is over. For those of you wondering, yes, the bottle of rum is essential to baking. It will only get worse from here.




Because I am already an expert baker (yeah...right!), I have decided to try my hand at candy making. This is not one of my brightest ideas. First up: Peanut Brittle. Making peanut brittle taught me that I am afraid of boiling sugar and that hardened sugar is hard to scrape out of your favorite pot. Next up: Rum Balls and Homemade Marshmallows (thanks M Cubed!).




For the moment I need to stop baking and have a glass of wine and try and shut out my extremely loud neighbors and the gaggle of small children they have running and screaming upstairs. It looks something like this (which is also when I realized that I hate facebook because they keep changing the layout, and I'm pretty sure they are getting more corrupt by the hour, but I'll still keep using it anyway).




Hmm, maybe I can just buy cookies and candy and pretend that I made them.

Just To Remind You How Cute Erma Is

Because I have not posted in a while I am afraid that some people might have forgotten how adorable Erma is. This is her as a cute kitten.








And this is her as a cute adult and neck warmer.



Ahh, I love her!

I'm Back!

I know, I know, it has been a while. You see, I went on this vacation - an awesome vacation - and once a person goes on an awesome vacation, it is hard to accept that they will one day have to go back to real life. So I’m back, as a matter of fact I have been back for a rather long time, but I’ve been dreading the first post-vacation blog post because it is a lot of pressure. I really don’t feel like blogging about my entire vacation minute by minute because I would like to keep it as a pleasant memory for me instead of whoring it out with pictures and eighteen paragraphs about all the great stuff I did. Instead, I’ll just do that a teeny bit.

So here it is, I went to Italy for two weeks with my mom. That’s right, we both left our silly husbands behind to go to Europe, and I personally think it was an excellent decision. Here is the great part though, we met up with her Mountain Friend (my parents live on a mountain, so all friends in that immediate region are Mountain Friends) and the Mountain Friend’s sister, who doesn’t live on a mountain at all. My mom and I did Rome with just the two of us and then found the others in Florence and continued to wreak havoc on most of Tuscany and Umbria with them. We traveled into small towns, got lost in vineyards, saw a billion beautiful churches with amazing artwork in them, spoke Italian poorly, and laughed constantly, all while trying to keep to strict regimen of at least one gelato a day.

Here are a few things I learned:
-Men in Rome dress very well. They also flirt very well and excel at it.
-People in Italy do not obey traffic laws. Now that I think of it, they don’t really do rules very well at all.
-There is good wine everywhere.
-A smile goes a long way even if you have no idea how to speak the language.
-I have finally accepted olives into my life. It feels so sexy.
-Cameras are annoying. This is something that I have always known, but when I have a bunch of rude people at the Vatican pushing me around so they can get a horrible shot of The School of Athens just so they can prove they were there it makes me a bit grumpy.
-German tourists are jolly, while Canadian tourists can be snippy.
-Humans really are amazing. Our gang got our fill of art and architecture and between the Colosseum in Rome and the Justinian mosaics in Ravenna we were just flabbergasted at what humans can make.
-And one of the most important things I learned: If I really love a piece of artwork, there is nothing stopping me from one day going to see it in person. I don’t know why that never occurred to me before, and I know that I will not be able to do it again any time soon, but I am confident that I will be able to see more amazing art and architecture up close and in person during my lifetime.

So now I will leave you with some pictures (half of the pictures are on my camera, and half are on my mother’s camera because we are both technologically challenged, especially when it comes to strange European plugs):




Italy has too many ruins, they are everywhere! They make great benches.




Pigeons are gross no matter what continent you are on.




They really are cute, but I think the Pope has a better chance of defending himself with his pointy hat. I think Jordan must have been a Swiss Guard in a previous life.




Apparently lions really like to eat Christians because we kept seeing it everywhere.




Lunch is Assisi. Just another day of drinking wine and overlooking a beautiful valley...I mean I do it all the time in Delaware.




This? Oh, its just the view from our Villa outside of Arezzo. I just threw it in here even though its pretty similar to the view from my apartment.




Ancient Rome. Seriously, ruins everywhere.

What We Are Listening To

Nothing much going on around here in the Still Life household, but this is what we have been listening to lately. They are both covers, but they are both pretty groovy. Make it through your week by humming some solid beats. That is all.




The Jolly Boys - Rehab. I know, I know, its an Amy Winehouse cover, and its good.




Mos Def and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band - It Ain't My Fault.




The Two Gentleman Band - Swoon. A group my brother Davey pointed out to me. Older brothers always know whats best.

Cornbread and Butter Beans

This song makes me happy. You should probably go buy the Carolina Chocolate Drops album "Genuine Negro Jig". Ever since first hearing them, it is Jordan's new goal in life to play the bones and the jug, and I can totally see it happening. Enjoy!

Promise Me This

Almost two months ago Jordan and I found ourselves at a carnival. It was being held across the street from our apartment, in the lawn of a church, and for about a week we salivated at the bright lights and smell of popcorn every time we passed by it. Finally, on my birthday, one of our friends convinced us that a joyous occasion such as my birth is a good excuse to down a couple drinks and tempt them to come up again on the Gravi-tron. We had a pretty good time at the carnival, even though we realized that it was the land of pre-teen drama and shady vendors.

I learned two lessons that night.

First: Ferris Wheels are the scariest ride ever. At first I thought I would just enjoy the night breeze, moving slowly through the air, heck, maybe I could even spot our apartment! Then I learned that moving slowly through the air in a rickety basket, with half the lights flicking, is enough to make me want to ask the scary man to please make it stop. Seriously, while we were on the ride, some of the lights shorted out…what does that mean? Will there be enough electricity to bring me back safely to the ground where I can then kiss it and thank it for not being the air? Are we just going to be stuck up there forever, or is the entire machine going to just break and we fall in a heap to the ground? I pictured my death possibly 1,000 times during the scariest 4 minutes of my life.


(our Ferris Wheel was much less stable and had much more paint peeling away than this one, oh, and the lights work on this one too)


Second: Never ask Jordan to “promise me this”. As we were leaving I turned to Jordan with one simple request. “Jordan, will you promise me that you will never become a carny?” “Of course, my dearest wife” was the response. I left happily, feeling the bond of marriage as strong as ever. Of course he would never become a carny, do I even have to ask such silly things? Not four days later my charming husband tells me he has a job at the Maryland State Fair at the end of the summer. Ahem. What was so hard to understand about the most attainable favor I have ever asked? So, this past week Jordan has been working on his tan, alternating between guzzling beer in the middle of the day and smoking cigarettes, and trying to black out some of his teeth in order to prepare for his new gig. He worked this weekend and seemed to come home in the same condition that I let him go, but I’m worried that next weekend he might do something really awful, like get a tattoo of Tweedy Bird.


(Jordan's future look...I honestly don't know if this is a man or a woman)


Lessons learned, and maybe next time I'll make him promise to never buy me a pony.

Sleep: The Story of Bedtime in Three Acts

I love sleep.

Sometimes, you just have to get a little extra sleep, even though you know it is not the best plan. The other night was one of those nights. Jordan and I ate dinner, some cozy leftovers of pasta, and had a glass of wine. He then settled in to do some homework, while I took it upon myself to watch a couple hours of Law and Order: Criminal Intent (I know, its just awful, but I love it). I should have realized when I yawned a few times that I was done for, but ever vigilant I carried on.

Act I:
It all started with The Chair. It looked so inviting, with its lovely green cushion and little ottoman: a perfect cocoon of coziness. I decided that it would be the proper viewing spot for a mini Law and Order marathon. In the back of my head I had to have known what this usually means, but perhaps I was in denial since it was only 8:00 in the evening and I didn't want to admit to myself that I planned on going to sleep that early. I snuggled myself warmly into the chair, and then came Erma. Sweet little Erma. Now, what else am I going to do in a perfectly comfortable chair with a little cuddly ball of warmth sprawled across my chest? Erma is definitely a papazan chair whore, no matter who is in it, she is there, willing to lay down with any old person she is sitting with. So, naturally, about 11 minutes into the program, I fell asleep.

Act II:
I slept in the chair until almost 9:00 exactly. Perhaps it was the opening credits music that acted as my alarm clock? Well, of course I was a bit scrunched from napping in a little round chair with a creature on top of me. Looking around, it seemed best that I continue my TV watching on the couch where I could really spread out and even include a blanket to watch the second episode of Law and Order, I quietly swore at myself for taking nap so close to bedtime. I barely even finished listening to the theme song when I was asleep again.

Act III:
Another hour exactly. I woke up and looked around, slightly confused. Well, nothing left to do but go to the bedroom and go to sleep! I grumpily limped passed Jordan (limbs don't like sleeping on mere chairs and couches, they need queen size beds!) mumbled something about going to bed early and to remember to turn on his alarm clock. Another minute and I was out. Erma later joined me and we slept wonderfully until 7:30 the next morning. Seeing as how both Erma and I have very strenuous lives, its easy to see why we were exhausted.

Let's not lie here. The real reason I went to bed early is because I am lazy, and laziness aided by a few glasses of red wine encourages bedtime. I love sleep.

What I Would Take With Me

When I visit museums I like to play a little game called “if I could steal anything here, what would it be”. This game is inspired by a similar version that a family friend plays, only in her tamer version she just decides which piece of art she would like to own. When you place it in the context of stealing, many other factors come in to play. You have to realistically think about how you would remove this piece and what you are going to do with it when you leave. Art theft is a wonderfully lucrative business venture, and if one steals the right objects, retirement could be in the near future. I’ve marked my future nest egg investments all over the United States, and our recent trip to the Metropolitan Museum was no exception.

This museum is huge and one can only imagine how much the entire collection, not to mention the building itself, is worth. There is a huge range of art to play sticky fingers with…everything from Roman coins (although, those seem to be mostly behind glass) to huge paintings on canvas. Jordan and I had quite the task in front of us. I am usually a sucker for paintings as I hope to one day hang my walls with a variety of different two dimensional works hung salon style, but this time I was in the mood for some sculpture.




I found all the detached heads of Medieval religious sculptures to be rather appealing, and I don’t think I could be satisfied with just one, so I would have to steal an assortment of them.




Jordan was rather struck by the Met’s armor collection, and decided that he would like to steal an ancient samurai mask. I approve.




If we were some serious and innovative art thieves, I would very much like to steal Anselm Kiefer’s Bohemia Lies by the Sea. We’ll have to work up to it.

Train Blogging

As we speak (read? write?...whatever), Jordan and I are on a train to New York City. It is pleasant enough so far. The hole-punch man was really nice and arranged for us to sit together at the next stop, and nobody is ignoring the “quiet car” sign by being really loud on their cell phones. Generally people are just on laptops or reading, keeping to themselves.

Everything was good until a stop in Philadelphia. We started to smell something…something funky. At first it just seemed as if it was just general city smell, that dank nasty smell in wet corners of urban areas, but we realized that it wasn’t going away the farther we got from the stop. Somebody in Philadelphia is smelling funky. In my not so subtle ways I have started stealing glances at the newcomers around us. There is a curly haired man, he seems pretty normal and hygienic. There is this father son team that have been up and down the aisle a couple times now trying to get internet access, and when they pass I don’t get any strange smelling wafts of air. Nope, it must be this nice lady sitting next to us. I look at her face; she appears to be clean and normally dressed. My eyes travel downward to the bags she has stashed under the seat. Let’s see, there is a book, a purse, and typical bag things. Ah ha! There is a bundle wrapped in aluminum foil. It appears to have the tail of a fish coming out of it. Yes, I think we have found the culprit.

I hope this soon to be lukewarm dead fish is not traveling all the way to New York City with us.

Letter to Whoever is Taking Care of Erma

If you ever find yourself taking care of Erma one day, you might find a similar letter waiting for you on our kitchen table. Jordan prepared this for two friends that agreed to watch over her one weekend (and did a wonderful job!), and while he did it as a joke, we soon realized that it is all very true. The following is an excerpt:


Thanks again for taking care of Erma this weekend. We were going to ask the 5-year old next store to do it, but after a harrowing story concerning the accidental death of her cat, Becca and I decided that it would be best if we got some professionals (A few moments after she told us this story her mother poked her head out the door and said, “Stop telling people you killed our cat.” She then looked to us and said, “She just stepped on the cat’s tail. The cat is not dead!”) Anyway…digression aside, here is what you should know about Erma now that we’ve roped you into taking care of her. First of all, she doesn’t have a water bowl. She drinks out of a cup because she wants to be like people. She has a blue cup of water on the side table next to the bed, and she usually drinks out of another random cup that is being utilized by either Becca or myself. To make up for this, we have placed a second cup on the end table closest to the front door. You don’t need to give her jug water out of the fridge, but if you feel so compelled, then go for it. Erma does not like ice in her water. Also, in the vein of Erma wanting to be like people, you have to make sure to talk to her first thing when you come in the door. The preferred greeting is either an extremely high pitched “T T T T T!” or a more conversational “What’ve ya been doin’?” She’ll squeak. “Really?” She’ll squeak again. Erma’s favorite lounging areas are in the window of the office next to the dying Aloe plant, underneath the papazan chair, or under the bed (check those areas first if you can’t find her). WARNING: do not go in the closet! We cleaned Erma’s litter right before we left, so don’t worry about that. If you catch Erma staring at the oven, then you are required to chase after her. Erma’s toys are in the metal basket in-between the sliding door and the tea cart. Erma requires different toys depending on her mood: if Erma is looking kind of chipper and playful, then I would either go with the mouse on the end of the stick, the brown shoe lace, or one of the various chickens attached to twisty-ties. If you choose to play with the chickens, then try and get Erma to play fetch; it’s really cute when she does it. O yeah, I forgot something, the piece of felt on the floor of the office with the red fuzzy hat next to it belongs there on the floor; that’s another favorite place of Erma’s; the felt is positioned perfectly so that it catches the morning sunlight between 8:45 and 10:00. Back to the toys: if Erma is looking despondent, then get the bag of catnip out of the freezer and put it on one of the little fuzzy balls; she only plays with the balls if there is catnip involved. Lastly, if she does a drop-and-roll, it means she wants you to pet the tuft of white fur on her chest and pat her butt at the same time. Also, don’t sit on any blankets unless you see Erma, for she might be cuddled up inside of one of the blankets (especially the papazan chair. She loves sleeping in the blanket on the papazan chair). I guess I should say something about Erma’s food. Her food bowl is in the bedroom next to the door. Her food is in the plastic bin next to the food. Erma gets three crumbs from her treat bag a day, which is located in the drawer in front of this letter (use the orange bag of treats). Do not leave the treats out; Erma will rip the bag to shreds just to get her fix.

Now, about the plants. We watered them really well right before we left, so either Saturday or Sunday if you could give them a water, then that would be great. There are jugs of water for the plants outside, so don’t worry about finding a flagon. If you see the squirrel digging in our basil, shoot him with the orange water gun next to the sliding glass door. Then proceed to shake your fist at the squirrel in a menacing manner, and if you really feel inclined, you can yell “Get outta here Little Shit!”

Lastly, leave a light on after you leave that way Erma is not just hanging out in the dark. Not the bedroom light; Erma prefers that room to be dark and cool. Just one of the lights in the living room will be fine.





(More on this pesky squirrel later)

This is NOT One of the Things We Are Going to Hell For

(Jordan's first blog post!)

We use a Bible as a door stop. Sometimes I feel bad about it. Not because it is the holy sanctified word of God that my wife and I are using to keep a door open when the air conditioning turns on, but rather because I try not to put books on the floor. But, let’s face it: if it were the Guttenberg Bible, then I can see God getting pretty upset; but it’s not. It’s one of the free Bibles that evangelicals hand out on street corners: that’s right: the New Testament plus Psalms and Proverbs. Every household probably has one of those old rusty NT+P&P Bibles lying around the house, gathering dust on a shelf; at least we are putting ours to good use. After all, it’s not every day that you find a door stop that fits just perfectly between the bottom of the door and the carpet, and the fit is so snug and tight, that the door does not close. And, again, let’s face it: some houses are poorly designed; nothing gets my goat like a house that is designed to where the force of the AC pushes on the back of a door and forces it shut. What if Erma got stuck in the room? And what if we were gone for a day and Erma had to spend the whole day in the room, without food or water or litter box; what if we came home and she was lying dead on the floor: dead of thirst! So, I’m already pretty sure God doesn’t hate me for using the free Bible as a door stop. But for those of you who would chide me for it, just remember that that doorstop is saving a very precious life: the life of our cat. And, as God said that all creatures were created equal except for roosters, those sneaky little buggers), our cat has a right to life…


Bible that you take care of, one with a leather front embossed with your name and gilded pages:





Bible that you use as a door stop:

Dear Brian Boitano, Will You Be My New Best Friend?

It is time for a new feature on the blog, a segment called, “Dear so-and-so, will you be my new best friend?” It will basically be devoted to people Jordan and I think we could start a pretty awesome relationship with, people that have really made an impact on our lives, or people who we would like to bring home to meet our parents. They may or may not be famous or outstanding citizens, but one thing is for sure: they are cool enough to be our friend.



As revealed in the title, our first new best friend pick is Brian Boitano. First, a little refresher, remember this?



Brian Boitano won the Olympic gold medal in figure skating in 1988, and to date is the only male figure skater to be featured on the front cover of Sports Illustrated. Soon afterward he became a professional skater, during which time he won an Emmy for his role in Carmen On Ice. The man had already received two great honors of achievement that most of us will never have. Then he became a superhero. He was immortalized in the song featured above, bringing his accolades into light for a new generation. What a dreamy guy; not only has he won an Olympic gold medal and an Emmy, but he also saved the human race from the evil robot king, beat up Kublai Khan, and built the pyramids! We could have stopped after the Olympic gold (oh, and he also has his own figure skating move called the ‘Tano triple lutz…cool) in considering him to be our new best friend, and especially after his Emmy and amazing superhero song. But get this, the man can cook too! The Food Network has given BB a cooking show, and it is possibly the best thing on television. It is called "What Would Brian Boitano Make?", with the theme song being the one shown above. He is totally flamboyant and ADD, while the concept of the show is full of humor and love. It even involves a Kristi Yamaguchi bobble head! Is there anything this man could not do? He is awe inspiring and physically fit.

(By the way, Brian Boitano, if by any chance you did a Google search of your name and went 28 pages back and found this blog post and would like to get in contact with us, just leave a message and we can start a correspondence.)

Yes, he is this cool.

Confetti, Spinach, and Beer (or Not)

What does not mix well together? Spinach and booze. Last night we were supposed to go to a beer tasting with friends so I thought we should eat something light because beer makes me really full and feeling gross. I thought a nice spinach salad with some peanut dressing, cranberries, carrots and almonds would be a good choice. We ate, felt good, and were ready to drink all the beer we could. I am always the designated driver when it comes to beer related events because I can drink about one and a half before my stomach is full and cannot drink anymore. By the way, this is not the case with wine; Jordan is always the DD when it comes to wine events.

As it turns out the world had other plans for us that night, and as everyone ended up not being able to make it Jordan and I decided that it would be lame for us to go to the beer tasting by ourselves. We opted for a nice quiet evening at home instead. It worked out perfectly until our AC started making funky squealing noises and we had to turn it off completely in order to keep our sanity…on one of the hottest days of the year.

We quickly decided that since bars are air conditioned we should spend a nice cozy night there instead. We should have been more prepared because spinach does not absorb alcohol very well. We only had a few adult beverages and realized that we were a bit tipsy. We realized this because we were raving about the benefits of having Brian Boitano as a friend when we spotted all the tables around staring at us. Oops, we just get really excited about Brian Boitano (for details see our next post). So to remedy our tipsiness we stopped drinking and went to the pizza place next to the bar to pick up a slice and eat outside. After having a thorough conversation with the pizza guys about the World Cup (I’m for Ghana and Jordan is for Argentina) and whether or not my shirt looked like confetti , we plopped ourselves down on a wide stone fence and graced Main Street with our presence. Our greasy pizza soaked up our drinks and we were good to go just in time because Jordan required that we be home by 10:00 so that he could watch Futurama. There will be more beer tastings in the future, but I was pretty happy with our impromptu date instead.




(Also, this is my shirt, and if it looks like confetti that is alright by me)

It's Not Every Day You Get To See A Cross Section of a Rectum!

Jordan is done with his first year of grad school! Huzzah! I immediately took advantage of this by arranging a super packed weekend full of fun activities for which he would have no excuse not to participate. There was eating out, swanky nightclubs, cheese tasting, Philadelphia, and movie watching, all supposed to be enjoyed while praising the amazing wife who arranges such activities. As it turns out we are too poor for the cheese tasting and getting too old for swanky nightclubs. It was also humid (which makes us grumpy) and rainy (which interfered with my wardrobe choices and picnic blanket). A revision of my wonderful plans was made and we decided to go to the Mutter Museum in Philadelphia. Good choice.





The museum is full of strange little medical oddities and paraphernalia. Some of my favorites include the collection of skulls (there was a whole separate section devoted to skulls of syphilis victims, that stuff will mess you up!), the collection of ear bones, and shrunken heads. Everywhere you looked there were cross sections of skin (or faces!) suspended in a tank of stained liquid. There was also a fascinating display about the assassination of President Lincoln and the capture and death of John Wilkes Booth. I learned about wet and dry specimens, and saw a decent amount of bones, skeletons and shriveled organs. Some of the items on display, while I’m sure important to the study of medicine, made me sad. For example, I had to stop looking at the progression of fetuses, especially the ones with deformities. Surprisingly, all of the other patrons were well behaved, except for this one group of college age guys being really loud and disrespectful.

Part of the cozy charm of the museum is the display. Everything feels old fashioned because most of it is, and the newer parts didn’t always seem to fit in with the old dark wood and yellowing placards. Even though it was hard to read an aging handwritten label through a display of rippled old glass it lent an air of nostalgia to the experience. One could spend hours examining the two floors of the small museum and we did. (As a side note, don’t wear a dress or skirt, because the people on the bottom level can totally look up and examine something else.) We left feeling excited that we had learned something; their slogan "disturbingly informative" is accurate.

All in all it was the perfect trip for a rainy afternoon.

Rhubarb Attempt #2

Tis the season of rhubarb! My first rhubarb cake was pretty tasty, but I needed more! Martha Stewart always has good suggestions and this rhubarb galette did not let me down. Both treats were equally humble and delicious, this one maybe slightly fancier than the first. I also love the presentation, so rustic and pretty. The cornmeal crust is good, and even though I am not a pie crust maker this was super easy. Next time I might cut down on the cinnamon because it tasted a little bit too much like apple pie, but then again I don't like too much cinnamon in anything. However, this would be good with apples too. I also don't mess with any of this unsalted butter business because salted butter is just fine with me. In addition I didn't have eggs or turbinado sugar, but it turned out fine anyway. Maybe my problem with baking is that I cannot bring myself to be prepared enough to be exact with anything? Oh well, it was still delicious! Next up, my mom's cobbler recipe!

Herbage Update

I would like the following photographs to prove that I have not killed anything yet.



mint



dill, chives, basil



lavender



thyme and rosemary (and a succulent that originally looked like The Hulk's knuckles coming out of the soil but now looks like it has been munched on by a squirrel)


Times became desperate with the basil because we have a squirrel problem. Apparently squirrels like basil and are not always scared off by a water gun. Seriously, Ellis (short for LS, short for Little Shit) seems to be a masochist, or maybe he is just trying to cool off. This little creature is relentless, so we currently have the basil weighted down with pebbles and it is finally starting to grow because it doesn't get uprooted every 3 hours.

Any good recipes using herbs for food or cocktails are welcome!

Rhubarb Attempt #1

I have a problem with baking.

The main issue is that I just can't do it very well. It seems to run in the family, and by that I mean I get it from my mother. The way I see it, I am genetically dysfunctional when it comes to baking. It's been embarrassing at times. Many a family celebration has been graced with a cake held up by toothpicks. As a newlywed, my romantic attempts at sweets for my sweet looked disfigured and flat. Usually the taste comes through, but it's just the aesthetics that are not up to par. You have no idea how many lopsided cakes I've made or cookies that seem to melt all into one piece.

However, over the years my baking has gotten better. As I learn what stiff peaks are actually supposed to be, that baking powder and baking soda can not be stand-ins for each other, and that the recipe gives exact amounts for a reason, my baking skills have sharpened.

Well, I had a relapse the other night. Jordan suggested that I make the rhubarb galette I had planned on making since I had lovely stalks of rhubarb becoming shriveled in the back of the fridge (they were also partially frozen, one of the joys of apartment living: if you put anything in the top or back of our fridge it freezes. This also interferes with my general well being). Out of laziness I searched for an alternate recipe so I wouldn't have to make crust. I found it on this blog. Mmm, looks good, doesn't it?





I immediately set out to make it while Jordan was at the library. It didn't take long, I had an excuse to use my awesome mixer and a spring form pan, and it was fun to make the rhubarb design on top. It was supposed to bake for 30-35 minutes, so I set the timer for 30. It wasn't done, so I put it in for another 5. I wasn't done, so I put it in for yet another 5. Repeat this until it had been if for over an hour and the middle was still gooey. I decided that I like the taste of raw batter, so to hell with it, the cake is coming out. Not only was the middle not done, but the cake had somehow bubbled up over itself, covering part of my well thought out rhubarb design. I made Jordan eat a slice anyway. It was still tasty though! And its good for breakfast!

Census Dad

Remember everybody, fill out your 2010 census, it will only take a minute! If you don’t, you will have somebody like my father come and knock on your door. In a normal place the fact that my father is traveling door to door inviting himself into stranger’s homes would not bother me, but my parents live in Tennessee. I am a bit worried. My dad is getting up there in years, he had a hip replacement, and I don’t think he can outrun a pack of pit bulls or pickup trucks. I am most worried that he will knock on the door of some anti government, pro gun wielding, sleeveless t-shirt wearing man drinking PBR. I know there must be lots of them in his little neck of the woods, and I don’t think they would welcome the sight of a US Census numerator. Below is a picture of the nifty briefcase he gets to carry along with an official badge and a shotgun given to him by the government just in case he meets one of these people.

Saturdays are the Best

My favorite day of the week is Saturday. There are the obvious reasons, it is the first day of the weekend, and the farthest away from the workweek (unlike the dreaded Sunday, where you feel doomed because you know what the next day entails). It also means good NPR programs on WHYY: Car Talk, A Chef’s Table, Fresh Air Weekend, American Routes, and Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me. Jordan and I also do Wawa sub dates where we go to Wawa and eat in the car and listen to the radio, because we are that cool. I usually do something fun by myself on Saturday because I try and leave Jordan alone so he can do boring homework and stuff like that. I stayed home yesterday because we are poor, and cannot do more than one fun thing and we were going out to dinner later on. This Saturday was awesome even though public radio was doing another membership drive (that’s what podcasts are for).

First, we had our weekly Wawa date after sleeping in. Mmm, I love to sleep. Then I messed around with watercolors and listened to podcasts for a couple hours.





Jordan took reading as an opportunity for a papasan nap with Erma. One doesn’t stand a chance in that chair.





Then, we had date night! We got all gussied up and went out for Vietnamese food. ‘Twas tasty, but we were the youngest people there by about 25 years. But they had decent cheap house wine and at least we know where to get pho on a rainy day! Then, on the graciousness of friends, we attended the opening of The Foocy. It was great! Anyone in the Wilmington area should totally go see it. It involves puppets, and music, and fun homemade props. Who doesn’t like stories about creepy old Russian ladies told through inventive set design? Then there was a reception afterward, which capped off the whole day nicely, because who doesn’t like puppets and booze? Well, I can think of a few who would be creeped out by the combination, but they don’t count.

And now we have another whole day before the weekend is over. Yay for Saturday!

Official Instruction on Taking a Sideways Nap

In order to take a sideways nap one stretches sideways across the bed. You cannot get underneath the covers, but have to lay on top of them and then proceed to wrap them around yourself like a burrito or a light but satisfying human crepe. Then sleep. As far as naps go, a sideways nap is always more successful than a couch or the normal bedtime position (which should be reserved for just that, bedtime). It is particularly lovely to have a warm cat in a knee or elbow pit, but not necessary for successful orchestration of the nap itself.




Erma, of course, is always encouraging these types of things.

Krazy George

Is this not the best thing ever? Last night Jordan and I experienced Krazy George. He changed our lives at a Wilmington Blue Rocks game. We also saw a dancing celery stick and drank beer.


(P.S. As advertised by my cup, remember to fill out your 2010 Census!)

Retail Therapy

Ever since we have lived in the great state of Delaware I have not been on a serious shopping trip. I mean, the only pair of shoes that I have purchased has been no-slip restaurant shoes for work, and that is just boring. I love shoes! I love to shop! Well, upon hearing the good news of a new job (yay for me!!!), I decided that I would need to update my wardrobe a bit. It’s not that I necessarily needed therapy, but boy oh geez did it put me in a good mood! It was one of those days where everything that I try on looks good and fits. Instead of getting frustrated because on the rack it looked great, but on me not so much, or needing a different size (except for one instance where I needed a smaller pair of pants, what?!), the trips to the dressing room were no hassle, and even pleasant. I now know the meaning of retail therapy. No shoes yet though, I’ll save them for next weekend. Plus the best part of buying clothes is that I go home and do a mini fashion show for Jordan where he is required to praise me with "ohs" and "ahs".




And this is a picture of one of a dress thatI bought, and yes, it looks just as good on me, and looks awesome with this one blazer I have!

One of our favorite pastimes

Upon listening to our neighbors having a rather loud fight (it seems as if somebody has taken a page from the book of Tiger Woods) I was reminded of one of mine and Jordan’s favorite pastimes: the fake fight.

Sometimes when we are stopped at a red light we just suddenly have an urge to start screaming at each other when we know people are watching. Usually it depends on who is next to us. We have learned from experience that our “shouting” matches are generally wasted if there is more than one person in the car; typically they are already engaged in something else and not as easily distracted. If you can get everyone in the car looking at you though, that’s bonus points. So the best time is when older women or younger men are watching.

In order to engage in a fake fight one must have wide gestures and an animated face. Jordan and I have both of these naturally (there has been many a glass of wine knocked over due to my wide gestures). Actual shouting is not necessary as it makes one’s voice hoarse; however, if you are miming your argument you must be convincing. The old “watermelon cantaloupe” theatre trick works here if you can’t think of anything else to say. Every once in a while when we are feeling confident we will crack the windows and let a few obscenities fly. Every time I try to convince Jordan to fake hit me, but I guess because he is too good of a guy he always refuses. He also does not want some “hero” to follow us and drag him out of the car for a beat down.

So the next time you are stopped in traffic, use your skills and see if you can really convince somebody.

Barbecue Shrimp

Nothing is better than a meal where you can really get messy. Who doesn't love ripping apart their food and licking their fingers? That is why I love Barbecue Shrimp. The recipe is from my dad, who doesn't cook that often, but when he does it is always delicious.



(I apologize for the picture quality, my kitchen table is not exactly a photography studio, but notice...no forks needed here!)

Barbecue Shrimp
(I usually make half this much, and it is fine for four people with crusty bread and a green salad)

4 pounds unpeeled large fresh shrimp (if you are not grossed out by sucking eyeball juices, leave the heads on)
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup chili sauce
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
2 lemons, sliced
4 garlic cloves, chopped (come on, you know you can put more than that in)
2 Tablespoons creole seasoning
2 Tablespoons lemon juice
1 Tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon oregano
1 teaspoon ground red pepper
1/2 teaspoon hot sauce (again, more is always welcome...)

1. Spread shrimp in shallow aluminum lined broiler pan. Or you can be like me and just put it in a casserole dish.
2. Combine butter and next 12 ingredients in saucepan over low heat until butter is melted. Pour over shrimp. Cover and chill 2 hours, turning every 30 minutes.
3. Bake uncovered at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Turn once.
4. Plate up. Suck da heads and sop up the juices with some crusty bread.

Herbage

Spring has arrived in good ole Delaware. As a matter of fact, not only has it arrived, it lasted about a week, and then the weather reached 92 degrees! But that is over with for now, hopefully, and things are back to pleasantly breezy conditions. I was going to wait to plant my herbs, but the hot weather was too tempting. As a result, for the first week they grew a bunch! Here is a shot that I took yesterday.




When I first put them in the basil couldn't be seen over the edge, and look at it now! I am also growing mint (in its own container because it will apparently take over otherwise. I'm not going to lie, its for mojitos.




On my herbage list this year: basil, chives, dill, rosemary, thyme, mint. Mmmm! Now lets hope I don't kill them all.

This isn't an herb, but its the new love of my life, a contorted filbert tree. Yes, I felt the need to plant a tree on our patio. Its so cute and twisty I couldn't resist. I'm waiting for it to get used to its new home before it goes into the fabulous purple pot from the purple lady in Savannah.

You Are What You Eat Photographs

I'm trying not to go grocery shopping until my parents come to visit this week, hoping that they might supplement a few things. Yes, I am a married woman and still trying to score some freebies from the padres. While scrounging in the fridge tonight for dinner, trying to come up with something creative with all those funky condiments that are the last items actually consumed, I remembered a series of photographs by Mark Menjivar that I stumbled across one day. Check it out: You Are What You Eat. Remembering the state of some of these refrigerators made me feel not as bad.

Two Whole Years?!

On Monday we celebrated our second wedding anniversary. I cannot believe we have been married that long. For some reason I do not have many pictures on my computer (so, maybe I’ve lost them), but here is one of my favorites that I have managed to hang on to.




I have never been a “wedding” sort of gal, so when I had to plan my own it was a little daunting. Then I realized that it was my day and I could do whatever the heck I wanted with it (oh yeah, and Jordan’s day too…whatever)! Then after the wedding, you realize that weddings aren’t really that big of a deal, and it’s the stuff afterward that’s the real fun (no, not the stuff directly afterward, I’m talking lifetime of love stuff here). But I would also like to add here that we had our wedding at the coolest place ever, the Old Sheldon Church. I am still amazed by how beautiful it is.




Jordan and I have learned a lot in the past two years. We’ve done a lot. We’ve also had a lot of fun. So instead of getting all mushy here I’ll just let you know that we had a great anniversary weekend filled with wine and laughter, two of my favorite things.