crazy is the new normal

That Was Weird

2011-08-31T16:13:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a year goes by and you forget to blog.

It happens.

When days pass so quickly and events begin to blur in the wake of newerfasterbettermore... I find often all I really have for proof that life is actually what it was that went rushing by, when the dust settles, are the special and not-so-special moments frozen with the help of modern technology, like iPhone photos.

Here are a few more from the recent past:

If you want to see more and you have the Instagram app you can follow me, laurel_johnston.

Sometimes...

2010-06-29T00:15:00.000-07:00

Sometimes things like this happen at our house. Things like putting strange apparel and costume items on small weenie dogs for sport.

It's OK; you can judge us.

But remember, it'd be so much worse if they were cats.

Zoom!

2010-06-10T23:19:00.000-07:00

Zoom! (That was May zooming by.) And now it's June.
But, speaking of May, the big news there is that in mid-May Ian got hurt sailing and ended up needing to have orthopedic surgery on his ankle to repair tendons and tissue that he had ruptured. Ruptured tissue! Wheee!
Surgery, pain pills, ice packs, stitches, gauze, crutches... It's been super fun for him. And, any of you who actually know Ian can imagine how super fun it's been for the rest of us, too. Not that he's been a bad patient. He's been a trooper. But still. An immobile and in-pain Ian is not a happy Ian, understandably. But, healing is underway and he gets rid of the crutches TOMORROW! We are super excited. He'll be in a walking boot, but the external stitches will be out and he'll be able to say, carry a dish to the sink. And that will be nice. Summer will begin to get underway the right way-- a way that doesn't involve surgery.

And, speaking of summer, it's a great time to have birthday parties on the beach that include cupcakes by
yours truly... Which, as it so happens, my friend did just last weekend at Pebble Beach for her adorable youngest daughter, and my sis-in-law/photographer extraordinaire Amie (and I, her ragtag kid-photos assistant) shot it to help capture the day. You can see some of the photos on Amie's pint-sized-edition blog. Also, if you wait a minute and let the top banner load, it will scroll through other kid shoots we've done over the past few years-- including some faces and tutus some of you New Yorkers and New York defectors will recognize.

And, speaking of New York, Ian was just crutching his way around Massachusetts for a few days this week on business and I was so tempted to go with him and high-tail it to NYC. But alas, I remembered that I'm not a wealthy, globetrotting sophisticate who can zoom off to NYC at the drop of a hat. Hate when that happens.

And, speaking of hats, I was tempted to celebrate summer sun by buying a giant sunhat online the other day, but passed in favor of these Anne Klein bad boys that I found on clearance at PiperLime, which, warning, is a slightly addictive site. The heels themselves are pretty and springy-summery fun, and thanks to these heavenly heelz (aka amazing pieces of magic), totally wear-all-day comfy. (Well played, foot petals, well played). And, what sound do I make as I blur by in these sweet summer score shoes? Zoom!

The Burger That Changes Lives... And Other Adventures in Eating

2010-05-05T21:20:00.001-07:00

To celebrate NINE years of marriage (what? are we that old? how did this happen?) Ian and I took a little trip to the desert to see family and friends and to enjoy the eating treasures that Las Vegas offers. Bobby Flay, Mario Batali, Huber Keller are just a few of the celebrity chefs that have restaurants there... And I intended to try as many as possible in our short trip... because the Food Network is my other bible.
Carnevino was stop number one on the Johnston Eating Anniversary Vegas Tour 2010. One word: burger. More words: pancetta (bacon), creamy white cheddar, crisp red onion and a house-made cherry and red wine mustard with black truffle mayo and... um, drool. Best. Burger. Ever.Served with a pitch perfect arugula salad with sunny fresh lemon and herb dressing-- tingly, fragrant, crispy-clean perfection. Topped off with a side of spicy red pepper sauteed spinach. Mario Batali, I love you; you, and your long, unruly hair and crazy ways and goofy Crocs... Your Carnevino burger changed my life. Crazy, crazy, crazy good.
Next stop, Hash House A Go-Go for the NY Times-touted sage fried chicken and bacon waffles with maple reduction. Um... yeah. For reals. This picture doesn't do it justice. It was more golden. And delicious! Chicken and waffles! Love it! Though I would have preferred a crispier waffle, the strips of extra crispy bacon nestled in the spongy folds of waffle goodness were divine. (If you were an extra crispy bacon strip wouldn't you want to be enveloped in light, buttery, pillowy waffle? It would be quite nice.)
Dinner was at Bobby Flay's Vegas hot spot, Mesa Grill. I neglected to take pictures of the adventures in eating, but suffice it to say everything was very, very yummy. My fillet mignon was tender and crusty and juicy and huge. The cornmeal encrusted chile relleno with white cheddar and black beans was delicioso! So was the goat cheese fundido (cheese dip,) and Ian's 16-spice-rubbed chicken was out of this world. All in all, a wonderful meal but slightly less overwhelmingly wonderful as the first.
After dinner we were on our way to see the Lion King, so, regrettably, we did not have time to get dessert. The dessert menu was tantalizing, and if I ever find myself out that way again a special dessert stop will be made. However, with almost no calorie left behind, our Vegas eating tour was a success. (And maybe in another nine years we will have worked off all those calories and can go back.)

Fun With Sky Mall #3

2010-04-23T11:03:00.000-07:00

It's been a while, folks, but it's Friday, it's sunny and springy out, and I'm just in the mood for another edition of FUN WITH SKY MALL! In case you forgot how it works, the goal here is to spot the real marketing copy that accompanies this totally real product from Sky Mall. And we're off...

A) What's that smell? Mee-Owch! It's the litter box! Help your furry friend say sayonara to that stinky habit once and for all with the Litter Kwitter 3-Step Cat Toilet Training System. In just weeks, your kitty can become a fancy-free feline flusher! Pets and humans share love, why not share TP, too? Save money on litter and scoops with this reusable kit; new from the esteemed makers of the KittyTalks Translation System.

B) The best way to deal with the unpleasant task of cleaning out the litter box is to do away with it for good. With the Litter Kwitter 3-Step Cat Toilet Training System, you can teach your cat to use any human toilet in eight weeks or less. The age or weight of your cat doesn't matter and it works in multiple cat households too. This award-winning product has proved itself effective for years, and has been recommended by vets. Enjoy a cleaner home and say good-bye to the litter box forever.

C) You may wear muumuus 24-7, you may wear curlers in your hair in public, and you may knit outfits for your "kitty kiddies"-- but if you still just can't seem to get your seven cats to listen to their "mama" and use the litter box consistently, you need the Litter Kwitter 3-Step Cat Toilet Training System. Your cats will never truly be your almost-human-babies until they are tinkling toddler style, with colorful adaptive seats for Boots to boot! Soon your whole family of felines will be sharing the most intimate bathroom moments. Aww!

D) Cats everywhere are pawing for the purrfect solution to housebreaking drama! As seen on The Real Housecats of Crazyville, the Litter Kwitter 3-Step Cat Toilet Training System is the kitty choice for reversing natural instincts altogether. Fabulous felines all over the country are relieved to finally be able to relieve themselves like the rest of the civilized world-- in the privacy of their own bathrooms. As any good vet knows, training cats is super easy! That's why they recommend this award-winning system that will have your purrer potty perfect in no time!

E) Tired of those awkward moments with your cat when he wants to go outside and poop in public like a dog? Or how about when he has to slink off to the litter box to wee in a pile of chalky dust? It's time for the Litter Kwitter 3-Step Cat Toilet Training System! Trade awkward moments with your cat for awkward moments with your friends when they see the adaptive seat in the "cat's bathroom." Your cat deserves all the convenience of jumping onto a slick porcelain surface and balancing over a specialized seat. After all, he does so much for you... He kindly destroys your couch and love-scratches your arm. He also barfs up beautiful fur balls under your bed and wakes you up at 5am for food... That kind of benevolence deserves the royal treatment: get your king kitty going on his own throne today!

Newborn Rockstar

2010-03-01T21:40:00.000-08:00

Welcome Abigail Mary Sawyer! This little rock star came into this world, complete with kick-A fauxhawk, on Saturday. Auntie Laurel and Uncle Ian got to meet her when she was just 2 hours old. My kid sis Leah, her mama, was a superchamp, and proud papa Joel was already smitten by this little peanut. We all were:

Is she in a wind-tunnel? Nope; fauxhawk! Awesome!

Pewaukee

2010-02-16T13:40:00.000-08:00

Ian is away on business this week. The town he is traveling to? Pewaukee. That's right (pee-wok-key). Probably some ancient Native American name for something significant and sacred and beautiful. But, in my little world, it's just plain funny to say... and to think about as a real place out there in the wild, wild Middle. He told me where he was going and the conversation went like this:

Me: So, where in Wiscaaaansin are you going again?

Ian: Some small town-- it's like Milwakee but it's not... It's um... Pewaukee?

Me: No. No it's not! Get out! Pewaukee? Like... Schmacago? Or Binneapolis?

Ian: Yes, just like that famed midwestern town, Schmacago.

Me: The schmindy city?

Ian: Yes.

Me: Where people eat deep scmish pizza? And the Schmacago Pears play? And the Slubs? And you fly into SchmO'Hare airport. And...

Ian: Stop it.

In other news, I got to help (a tiny bit) with a bird-themed baby shower a few weeks ago and pics are viewable here on Sarah's blog-- she is the mastermind behind the whole aesthetic. Her blog is private though so if you don't have access, below are a few of her photos that she kindly let me lift for display. You can see the cupcakes I made (with the mad frosting skillz of Amie) down there somewhere-- dark chocolate cakes, half with vanilla buttercream and half with peanut butter buttercream. The cute little favor's message unfurled to say "tweet, tweet, it was sweet... of you to come!" The spread was unreal-- juicy tri-tip with Clint's mouth-watering marinade, rosemary potatoes, rolls, salad, pasta salad, watermelon (in January--love it!) all artistically displayed in clear dishes nestled among nests and fresh greenery. So cool! Sarah rocks!

Valentine's Day

2010-02-13T09:42:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is great time to declare love for the things that really matter in life-- the parts of your life that you don't just really like a lot, but would experience soul-crushing can't-live-without-it bitter teeth-gnashing crying-woe-is-me suffering were it removed.

Great loves.

True loves.

Never-get-over-as-long-as-you-live loves.

The-world-is-a-bleak-and-lonely-place-without-the-existence-of-them loves.

Write-poetry-about-them loves, if you were, you know, into that.

Pine-for-them-endlessly loves.

If-you-were-in-junior-high-you'd-have-a-whole-notebook-full-of-doodles-and-your-name-next-to-theirs loves.

Loves that have the power to draw you in no matter what the circumstances because they seem to have their own gravitational pull... of love.

Things like...

Bacon

and

New York City

and

DVRs

and

Cupcakes

and

Green sauce from Pio Pio

and

iPhone aps

and

Target.

What are yours? (And obviously, the people and pets in your life that you love go without saying-- we all know you love them, most of the time.)

Really?

2010-02-03T13:33:00.001-08:00

Really?

Can someone please 'splain this to me? A suitcase box? Really?

Remember When...

2010-01-14T15:40:00.000-08:00

Remember when I used to write here somewhat regularly? I kind of do.

Remember when I used to not do what felt like 17 million things every second? I don't.

Remember when I had my own laptop all to myself and my husband didn't steal it every. single. night for more comfortable craigslist car/house/boat/motorcycle stalking? I barely can.

Remember when, this morning, I swore I'd have a low-carb day? Yup, I do.

Remember when, later this morning, I felt a chill and decided to make hot chocolate with milk and follow it up with too much fruit and non-lite yogurt? Um, yeah, I do.

Remember how I never was any good at low-carb days? My skinny jeans do.

Remember how in mid-November I had to go to DC for a week on business and had exactly 3 hours of non-work time on one weekday to run to a Smithsonian for pilgramage to Julia Child's kitchen? I do.

Remember how two months ago it was Thanksgiving and there were wonderful family visits and there was wonderful food (turkey! homemade rolls! killer yams! pie! pie! pie!) and wonderful princess parties and puppy sitting and super sales and tree decorating and travel plans and lazy brunches and heartfelt gratitude and snuggly blankets and cozy fires and parades? I do.

Remember how a few blinks ago it was Christmas and there was wrapping and shopping and more wrapping and cupcake baking and frenzy and plane rides and freezing temps in Utah and friends and family and boxes and cards and snow and laughter and carols and movies and deliciousness and reunions and magic? I hope you do, too.

Remember how everyone was totally freaking out about the awesomeness of "Avatar" and then when I saw it I wanted to scream, "I liked this movie better when it was called 'Dances With Wolves' and didn't have unbelievable blue aliens in it!" and then be mad at the rest of the world for loving it so? Unfortunately, I do.

Remember how 2009 started with all kinds of hope and wonder and excitement about the year ahead? I do... like it was yesterday.

And remember how a few breaths ago it became 2010 and now there is new wonder and excitement about the year ahead but more awe at how lightening-fast the last year went? I do.

Ahoy!

2009-10-28T21:58:00.000-07:00

Back to dry land. Back to work. Back to laundry, traffic, cold... Back to real life. Boo.
At least we have the memories. And, for now, a rockin' tan.

October and Virgins

2009-10-20T06:00:00.001-07:00

So, it's October. Crazy how that happens. You blink, it's summer, you blink again, it's Christmas. September brought with it the slow but anticipated turn from foggy summer to beautiful sunny fall in Monterey, a baby shower that required my most intense cupcake decorating session yet, a visit from an old friend, a sale of the boat ("Hooray!" says the savings account,) a purchase of another boat ("And scene," says the savings account), the invention of "the bacon taco" in our household, (newsworthy! deserves its own post for sure!) and lots and lots and lots of work. What September did not bring, however, was the blogging fairy to document all of this for me on the interweb. I will be playing a bit of catch-up in the coming weeks here. Not in this post, though.

This post is coming to you live from Virgin Gorda, the British Virgin Island where Ian and I (and six of our besties) are currently docked in our 43' catamaran called, in a funny twist of fate, Santa Cruz Blues. We left Monterey for San Jose on Friday evening, to fly to LA, to fly to Puerto Rico, to fly to St. Thomas, to take a ferry (with flat screen TVs showing 'The Pink Panther"-- a fact I find random and endearing) to Tortola to pick up our boat on Saturday. It was a long night. But we made it. Once on our boat with family and friends, all travel-weary, but none worse for the wear, we set sail for Norman Island. Snorkeling, swimming, eating, sun soaking, more eating... you get the idea. After Norman Island we came back to Tortola to get some hiccups worked out with the boat (i.e. radio didn't work, furler was broken... big hiccups. Cause-of-death hiccups.) From there it was off to Sand Island, where some of the boys scuba'd to see a sunken shipwreck and the rest of us hung out with the fish and coral and Santa Cruz Blues.

That brings us to today. It's sunny, it's warm, it's a day full of possibilities... Possibilities of white sandy beaches, sailing, restaurants with views beautiful enough to bring tears to your eyes, buying $10 gallons of milk expensive enough to bring tears to your eyes, and more of Ben's famous coconut rice pudding.

Julia and I Get Acquainted

2009-09-02T20:04:00.001-07:00

I saw the movie Julie & Julia when it opened. Not because I'm a huge fan of either woman in real life nor their actress portrayers Amy Adams and Meryl Streep, but because I am a huge fan of the REAL star of the show: food. (So is my food baby. And my food baby's BFF, movie theater popcorn.)

The movie was great. The featured food, divine. I give the film a glowing recommendation on all counts... Including the subliminal ones.

When I went into the movie, I didn't know what beef bourguignon was. When I left the movie, I immediately needed to high-tail it to France, rent a small villa, and peruse local farmers' markets in flouncy skirts and designer ballet flats to purchase fresh baguettes and the ingredients to make said beef dish.

But the airport is so far from the theater.

Instead, I high-tailed it to Costco to purchase Julia Child's magnum opus, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," and the ingredients-- as many as I could get. (It turns out beef bourguignon takes things that Costco, for all of its wonder and glory, can not provide. Like tiny pearl onions. Fresh bay leaves. Bacon rind. The patience of a saint.)

It also turns out beef bourguignon is a hearty beef stew that bakes for hours in a hot, hot oven. And it was July. But that's OK, because as any seasoned Californian knows, July is not July in Monterey. It's November. Except for the particular weekend in July when I decided to try this feat magnifique. Then it decided to be July.

Undaunted by the heat, we forged ahead with the beef bourguignon: my sister-in-law Amie, Julia Childs and I. Once all the ingredients were gathered, obtained from no fewer than three separate stores, (and never actually getting the bacon rind) we were ready to cook.

I'll spare you the gory details (and between Amie's burnt finger and my sliced thumb-- "I'm not an onion!" it cried-- believe you me, things got gory.)

Suffice it to say, after the braising and the browning and the boiling and the baking and the bundles of herbs (meant to be in cheesecloth but wrapped instead in medical gauze tied closed with un-waxed, unflavored dental floss--improvisation, mon petites! totally mcgyver!) the stew came to be. And, let the record state, it was good. Really, really good. But not I-might-die-if-I-don't-immediately-hook-myself-to-an-IV-of-this good. Which is really the only kind of good that makes all those hours of hot, choppy, wine-soaked, greasy, back-aching, what-do-you-mean-that-was-the-last-of-the-thyme-we-need-it-for-the-pearl-onions-right-now-and-there's-no-time-for-finding-more-thyme labor worth it, I'm afraid.

But still, even on a hot summer day in July, some fresh French bread and a big bowl of steaming, hearty, punch-drunk-with-rich-flavor beef bourguignon is, surprisingly, a good way to end the day. But then again, maybe that's just what the subliminal messages from the movie would have you believe. Regardless, there will be more adventures with "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," mon petites, as I find it-- and many of the recipes within-- fantastically accessible for those of us still finding our way around a kitchen. Flouncy skirts for French farmers' markets and villas, however, remain elusive. Or just subliminal, perhaps.

Romance, 8 Years After the Honeymoon

2009-08-04T19:19:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, after yet another long day at work, if Ian doesn't even offer to help me cook dinner I ask him if he'd like me to pre-chew his food for him, like a baby bird, but then I still make dinner.

Sometimes a freak whisker of disturbing length suddenly and without any fair warning appears on my chin and waves hello to the world and Ian makes fun of it even though I'm mortified, but then he offers to tweeze it for me.

Sometimes I get the thin crust frozen pizza with the peppers and pepperoni and go to great lengths to wipe off the majority of the Parmesan cheese from half with a paper towel, because Ian hates it and insists it smells like feet and I want his frozen pizza to be all it can be for him and not footy.

Sometimes I get the regular crust frozen pizza and Ian goes to great lengths to remove the sausage bits from half because he knows I hate it and doesn't want me to freak out if I get some.

It's all about give and take.

Laptop Lamentations... with a Side of Pralines

2009-07-22T18:14:00.000-07:00

So I got a fabulous laptop for Christmas from Santa. It has made my interwebbing so darn speedy and portable and, well, comfortable. I can web crawl on the go! Or on vacation! Or in the car (usually when someone else is driving.) Or I can just lounge around on the squishy leather sofa, Trader Joe's pecan pralines at my side (have you had them yet? heaven, seriously.), with something mindless (I mean, CNN) flickering on the TV while I compute to my heartsicle's content. Or at least until the battery runs out. I love my laptop. And in all things PC-related I am truly very staunchly pro-laptop, except... blogging.
El laptoppo is great for a quick dip into the blogosphere but for actually diving in and posting anything? Well, it is decidedly not ideal. You see, posting about events generally involves sharing pictures of said events. (Clearly, in my world bacon can be an event.) All fine and good, except our pictures are uploaded via the cable from my digicam to my big PC the in the office area, not to the laptop. So, in order to post an entry with pictures, I need to be there at the other PC. That's the one without the couch involved. Therein lies the problem. This is one reason, among others, I assure you-- (but most of them chalked up to laziness on my part, ultimately) why this particular blog has suffered in recent months.
BUT, I resolve to be better about picking myself off said squishy leather couch to sit at the photo-storing computer and blog there so that my avid fans (mom) can get a better running update of my lifesicles. Plus, you know what else is conveniently portable? Trader Joe's pecan pralines. ANYWAY. I'm backtracking. In April some of our very most favorite people came to visit. Here are some snaps:

Oh, Dear

2009-07-21T20:34:00.000-07:00

Oh, dear! Caught on tape! Someone must have hidden a camera in my kitchen...

Howdy!

2009-07-12T21:15:00.000-07:00

Hi! Remember me? I used to write here. I know. I'm sorry. It's been a while.

Let's just dive right in and start with MAY, when the Mexico trip cancellation was threatening to leave us vacationless AND without any chance of contracting the pig flu-- which, I decided, would have probably done wonders for my quest to pull off skinny jeans at some point. (Pull off as in wear-- not extract myself from. Heavens! I hope I never get stuck in a pair of skinny jeans! And have the shameless audacity to admit it here! Although given my experience with them in the undersized dressing rooms of the world, it's altogether possible to get stuck in a pair. Sigh.)

Anyway, Mexico was a bust BUT we were able to salvage the vacay and go to Kauai instead. And it was wonderful. Perfect.

10 Kauai musings:

1. It's possible to have 5 straight days of perfect weather and sunshine, even on the rainiest island in the world, making you doubt whoever it was that told you Kauai was the rainiest place in the world.

2. Shaved ice from Jo-Jo's (over mac nut ice cream) should be added to the food pyramid in the "pure happiness" group.

3. No one looks good in underwater shots.

4. Ian & Isaac's "Shamu Show" is possibly the funniest thing ever in the history of aqua impersonations.

5. The Lihue Longs is the best Longs Drugs ever. An isle of everything Li Hing Mui? An isle of organics? An isle of obscure Japanese treats that you haven't had, or seen, since you lived there? Plus all the normal Longs stuff like reasonably-priced sunblock? Yup. Went every day. I miss you, Lihue Longs. I miss you.

6. The Poipu breakfast joint with the world famous banana pancakes and homemade coconut syrup is rockin', even at 11pm on your way to the airport.

7. The loco moco dish of rice, eggs, hamburger, and gravy is indeed loco. And delicious. And disgusting. But mostly delicious.

8. The spa at the Hyatt is where I want to live permanently.

9. Chickens. Everywhere.

10. Aloe with solarcane is key for back-of-the-leg burns that make it impossible to wear jeans on the return flight even though you know it will be like 50 degrees in Monterey when you get home. Aloe with solarcane is also the hardest to find when you're pressed for time and is not sold in new airline-approved sizes.

Still Alive

2009-06-07T21:08:00.000-07:00

Still alive! Promise! Be back to the bloggosphere soon!

Curses!

2009-04-30T15:34:00.000-07:00

Funny story: We were (are) in desperate need for a vacay. Bad economy, schemonomy! We're saving! We work so hard! No one should be this pale! It's been so long! It's simply time for A Real Vacation! We deserve it!

So, justification complete, we decided in March to plan a tiny trip for early May, to coincide with a certain date.

Options were weighed.

Europe? Long flight, bad exchange rate.

New York? Super fun but also super busy. We need a relaxation vacation, not a vacation where we're running around the whole time amidst crowds sightseeing (read: shopping) and museum hopping (read: living at PioPio.)

Bahamas? Could be nice. Could be a hurricane.

Hawaii? Maybe. Been there though. A lot.

Mexico? Si? Mexico! Que bueno! It's just a hop, skip, jump and border crossing from California! Good diving, inexpensive lodging, great beaches, ancient pyramids... Woot! Perfecto!

Tickets and resorts were researched, locales surveyed, Trip Advisor consulted... At long last, after multiple weeks of planning, Playa del Carmen, an hour south of Cancun would be the destination of our luxurious getaway. Everything was booked, moneys paid, new warm-weather footwear and beach towels purchased. All we had to do was survive and countdown April until it was time to go. A vacation! A real vacation of nothing but beachy, sunny, lazy, fun!

And THEN... This.

Expletives! Big ones. Stupid pigs! Do you hear me?! I HATE YOU, pigs, and your crazy transmittable-to-humans SWINE FLU that is ruining my vacation (read: life). But I do still love you for bacon, so, um thanks for that.

Now what?

Eight

2009-04-27T09:56:00.000-07:00

Eight. It's a special number.

Some fun facts about the number 8, most of them courtesy of Wikipedia:

8 is the only Fibonacci number that is a perfect cube and 8 is the largest cube in the Fibonacci sequence.

In nuclear physics, 8 is the second magic number.

8 is the atomic number of oxygen.

In human adult dentition there are 8 teeth in each quadrant. The eighth tooth is the so-called wisdom tooth.

In particle physics, the eightfold way is used to classify sub-atomic particles.

In Islam, 8 is the number of angels carrying The Holy Throne of Allah in the heavens.

In Christianity 8 is the number of Beatitudes.

The Buddha's principal teaching -- the Four Noble Truths -- ramifies as the Noble Eightfold Path.

Eight is considered a lucky number in Chinese culture because it sounds like the word "prosper" or "wealth."

In chess, each side has 8 pawns and the board.

There are eight vegetables in V8 juice.

And, 8 is a power of two. I like this definition the best today.

To my other half: You are my luckiest number, my oxygen, my perfect cube, my source of much wisdom, and I adore making moves on the game board of this life with you by my side as we walk our own noble path together. I have loved being a power of two with you for the past 8 years. So, I lift up a glass (of V8?) and toast to you, my darling; here's to many, many more magic numbers together.

Overheard:

2009-04-07T15:18:00.000-07:00

Stanley & Lucy in the Morning - A Conversation

S: Psst... Lucy! The sun just came up… almost. Wake up!
L: Yes! Let’s wiggle up to the humans’ faces and touch our noses to their faces somewhere.
S: I’m going to scratch behind my ears frantically for a minute or two in order to better shake the bed and leave a small pile of fur under the covers.
L: Good idea. I’m going to stretch out and poke our humans in the back with my paws.
S: K. Let’s go sniff us some delicioso morning breath.
L: Mmm-mmm! That was fun! I think I saw an eyelash flutter on mom! Let’s dive bomb her head!
S: ‘K you do that. I’m going to walk along her side like a mountain goat on a ridge. La ti da… Look at me! I’m a mountain goat! Watch me jump off! Watch me jump back on! Watch me do it ag—whoops! I slipped off and landed on her neck.
L: Hey! Idea! Let’s do sprints around the house.
S: Wait-- dad’s getting up to let us outside! Hurry—let’s go pee on the mat.
L: Totally. And then let’s do sprints around the house. And bark!
S: Super awesome idea, sis. Wait—I see a human in the bed still. Let’s go sniff around her to make sure she is still sleeping.
L: And then let’s jump wrestle on the bed.
S: Only if you let me growl and yelp at the top of my lungs! BARK!
L: OK, I will too! YELP! GROWL!
S: Ooh, I see my reflection in the mirror in the early dawn light! I better tell it who’s boss. BARK!
L: I want to wrestle this pillow! GRrrrrrrOWL!
S: Now I will body slam you into mom’s chest.
L: Oh yeah, tough guy? Watch as I pin you down next to her and stand above you from her shoulder, digging my nails into her arm.
S: She moved! Yes!!!! Commence double licking of nostrils!
L: Incoming!

April Fools

2009-04-03T00:02:00.000-07:00

It was April Fool's Day yesterday. I texted Ian around midday and told him I was pregnant. He wrote back with, "Me too!" Clearly, he wasn't fooled. (That, or he's a miracle of science-- something I've long suspected since he seems to also suffer from PMS.)

This blog is long overdue a quality entry but yet, here I am, past midnight, working yet again on things of little or no importance in the grand scheme of life things but very important in the now scheme of work things. Sigh. Plus, it's been cold here. And windy. Chicago windy. Kansas windy. At least, how I imagine Chicago and Kansas windy, never having actually lived there. (Or having been there in the case of the latter.) The wind flurries around all day and gusts mightily at night, shaking our sad, thin window panes and making the stove vent rattle and leaving me wondering if I were to step outside into a big gust if I'd maybe just fly away like the tree branches and garbage can lids I keep seeing displaced in the roads. The howling wind seems to also blow away any motivation to actually spend time on the interweb when not required by work or church or otherwise. Thus, I'm neglecting the bloggosphere these days... People's lives spinning on, changing in big and little ways and posted for the absent masses and for commenting on, and me, out of the loop, with a rattly stove vent, just trying not to fly away. Be back soon.

Andy? Is That You?

2009-03-18T20:50:00.000-07:00

Dear AIG,

Are you all on crazy pills?

Bailout money for bonuses? To the tune of $165 million? Honestly, this is starting to feel like a joke. Like the kind where one of your fat cat executives, during a flashy press conference, suddenly unzips his fat cat executive costume and out jumps Andy Kaufman.

But, alas, it seems it's real. Very real and maybe not fixable. And it makes me angry. The hot kind of angry where my temples pulse and my brow furrows and I want to punch someone in the face with my keys. That kind. Bad angry. Danger angry. Keys-in-face angry.

So, I ask you, maybe, just maybe, stop taking the crazy pills and behave yourselves.

Recession Mantra: Frye Boots

2009-03-04T00:13:00.000-08:00

I do not need you. Sure, you're gorgeous and subtle and classic and fabulous and amazing and would probably go with more than half my wardrobe and are Frye boots that I've been drooling over since college. But you are so expensive. Not Chanel or Prada or Gucci expensive, but still... You cost a pretty penny, Frye boots of my dreams. And we are in a recession now. And, let's be honest, even pre-recession you were not exactly a reality. And I do not need you. It feels like I do, but you are not sustenance nor shelter nor water nor oxygen nor Trader Joe's... And I am not currently void of any other footwear, or taking up horseback riding, or going on a safari or inflicted with a shin condition requiring some kind of Frye-leather-contact therapy. You are simply excessive. A luxury. A golden soap dish on the Titanic. A fur coat in the Bahamas. I do not need you.

Yes, I spied a pair of your relatives on a co-parishioner and knew immediately that they too were Frye and was reminded again of how perfect you would look in my wardrobe, from casual weekend wear to church dress to work attire... And yes, I felt a longing in my heart as I watched you function elegantly amongst the pews. But then I reminded myself that we do not go to church to covet other people's boots (or footwear of any kind,) or cars or clothes or hair or babies or anything, ever. (Except maybe handbags. Because those hold scriptures, after all.)

And though I pine for you from afar and have no fewer than 673 justifications of why you would certainly be able to do everything from rescuing me from fashion peril, to possibly curing disease, I really do not need you. Sure, you were high on ye olde list of "I can't wait until I graduate and get a Real Job and..." things; one I thought I would easily be able to attain with A Real Paycheck. But here we are, out in the Real World lo these many years and yet you remain elusive, Frye boots. Your $400 price tag has simply never made you practical in my Grown Up World, and that was before salary cuts and layoffs and all the other scariness of today's Really Scary Grown Up World. But I think I love you and you love me and we're supposed to be together. But still, I do not need you. I've lived this long without your kind enveloping my legs in legendary leather quality and... magic.

So, I beg you, cease your call to me-- that gorgeous, hypnotic siren song of your exquisite soles being clip-clop-walked across a polished floor somewhere in my dreams, and more literally from Zappos.com, on sale! with free! shipping! and an amazingly non-threatening return policy. For I do not need you. I do not need you. I. do. not. need. you.
Right?

Sunbeam Smiles

2009-03-01T17:53:00.000-08:00

ME: "What's something you could do to help someone?"
THEM (3-4 year olds):

"Ride a horse."

"Clean blood."

"Help my mom and dad."

"Drive a car."

"Pennies."

"Go to the place... at the roller coaster place."

Totally.

Bitten by Bittman

2009-02-24T21:28:00.000-08:00

Just made herb fried chicken from Mark Bittman's recipe in the NY Times and it was great. No, really. And I should point out I'm not a huge fried chicken fan; I usually find it too salty and too greasy and too mystery-meat. And it's frequently made with so many parts of chicken, all of which still tend to have the skin on. If you know me, you know that I am very particular about my meat; there are some very strict rules to which I adhere-- none of which I will bore you with now-- but suffice it to say that a big brown lump of fried chicken, as a general rule, tends to just leave too much up to guesswork. It's problematic for me, like the fried chicken bits in Chinese takeout: Will I bite into white meat or dark meat or, sorry, this one is just skin, or fat, or maybe just batter? I just don't like these kinds of surprises.

But this recipe uses skinless chicken breasts, (and I chose boneless breasts because when am I ever void of the giant bag of Kirkland boneless skinless chicken breasts in the freezer? Seriously. It's like we live at Costco. Only there are no free samples waiting for me, served by people in white shower caps and booties, when I come home. Sad. But, living at Costco would also mean really long lines all the time, probably even to just brush your teeth.)

What I like about this herb fried chicken is that it's sophisticated and flavorful without being chicken-of-the-sea-uber salty and the extra dredge in the flour helps it stay nice and crispy without being drippy with oil. Plus, you use olive oil instead of canola and you don't deep fry the darn things, so they seem a bit more healthy than the average KFC-esque fare. I used the peanut butter option instead of tahini (what the heck is tahini? And, more importantly, do they sell it at Costco?), but I chose the natural kind of peanut butter, not, say, Skippy-- which I also have, in Costco size. Don't be frightened-- you only add a smidge and I couldn't taste it at all in the finished product.

It's also truly a 15-minute recipe--which is key on a mid-week night after a long day at work. I do think I made the paste too thin (and Mark warned me!) because it didn't stick to the chicken so well prior to the first dredge in flour, and I didn't even add the full amount of oil for fear of making it too liquidy (heed Mark's warning, I said; he's Bittman-- he knows how to cook everything). Also, I should have pounded the breasts some because they were very thick in the middle, so cooking time was a bit longer than the suggested 4 minutes each side. But, served up with a delicious salad and some pugliese bread and roasted zucchini and baked sweet potatoes, this was a great centerpiece to a nice midweek meal. Also, we had guests. So it was best not to go with the normal midweek meal of Costco pizza.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2009-02-14T10:58:00.000-08:00

That's right, I like you so much I made you a mix tape... Only it's 2009 and there are no such thing as mixed tapes anymore, so you have to go to iTunes to actually own it, or you might consider emailing me to tell me how much you love and adore it and then ask me to burn it onto CD for you. I've put most of the songs in the playlist to the right (I am having width difficulties with it-- open the pop-out player to see all the song details), which you can listen to for free by simply hitting the play button; a whole special mix I made just for you. I hope you like it, and that when you listen to it you feel, well, loved.

Happy Valentine's Day!

America's Next Top Puppy Models

2009-02-02T20:40:00.001-08:00

Listen,

2009-01-27T22:43:00.001-08:00

You,

And especially you,

Stop. Just stop.

Inappropriate.

So stop.

4 Bits n' Pieces

2009-01-23T22:30:00.001-08:00

1. The pups got the big FIX this week. (They had their teeny puppy boy/girly bits removed, respectively.) The after-care instructions I received from the vet said to keep the puppies from jumping, going up & down stairs, licking, wrestling, running, playing, or generally doing anything that might tear a stitch or aggravate something. And, oh yes, keep this up for two weeks. Um... hello??? Anyone met a puppy recently? That's all they do; jumping, playing and wrestling are my puppies' main purposes in life as far as I can surmise... (That, and trying to infiltrate the laundry bins to carefully weed through the towels, shirts and other innocuous items only to pull out the most delicate of undergarments and socks in order to shred them. And also eating the lava rocks out of the plant soil. Oh, and breaking into my primary bag for any treats and/or craft materials and/or lip gloss to eat. And pooping on the bathroom floor. And eating the lining underneath the chair in in the reading nook.) So two weeks of rest is in strict order via Dr. I Clearly Don't Know How Puppies Behave, and I couldn't get Lucy & Stan to abstain from the running/jumping/spazzing for even the first 24 hours. Any tips? 2. Lest you be tempted to try this recipe from this month's Real Simple for "healthy" mac & cheese: Don't. The whole wheat pasta I do recommend. The rest of it, however? Not so great. Not if what you wanted was mac & cheese, anyway-- a fundamental component of which is creaminess in my book and which this recipe does not provide. I think mac & cheese might be one of those foods (like bacon, my food baby daddy) that just doesn't do "healthy." Like how I just can't do skinny jeans because I regretfully do not have the hips of a 9 year old boy, or how puppies can't just "rest" for two weeks. It might be a law of nature. Science should look into it. In the meantime, I'm sticking with recipes that look more like this one.

3. Lest you be tempted to try this apple cake recipe from Orangette, please tell me how it works out. I'm thinking of giving it a whirl this weekend but I don't actually own a food processor and I'm a little nervous about trying the barely-blended ingredient situation in my blended-'til-it's-dust blender. 4. I've never asked you before, but... maybe you want to tell all your friends and neighbors to shop for their kids' craft needs at the coolest and most affordable place on the entire interweb? http://www.discountschoolsupply.com/ There's even a Red Sale going on (perfect timing for V-day card & craft making...) and a free shipping offer. It's a win, win.

The Highlights, For Me

2009-01-20T16:52:00.000-08:00

"...To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West: Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist...

...Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task...

...With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested, we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back, nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations."

Me=Addict

2009-01-05T20:09:00.000-08:00

Oh, Trader Joe's Kettle Corn, why do you taunt me so? I think I need an intervention. Just ask my rapidly-growing food baby, now possibly visible from space. Your calorie count looks so friendly and inviting until I realize, once again, that I can't just stop at one serving. Or two. Or seven. Salty, sweet, crunchy-- the trifecta of snack perfection, you call to me at night after a day unflinchingly resolved in I-will-wear-a-swimsuit-this-spring-so-let's-get-serious balanced meals and vegetables... "Just a handful, just a bite... So much healthier than that whopping spoon of cookie dough or frosting or pound of caramelized bacon..." you whisper, crinkly and glossy, from your dark, cool cupboard. But I know your terrible secret. Your list of ingredients is so deceiving, for not once does it mention the crack.

Sunbeam Smiles

2009-01-04T21:47:00.000-08:00

I'm the Sunbeam teacher this year at church. This means, for 2009, I'm with the youngest bunch of all: the 3-4 year olds. Day one, closing prayer by 3-year-old girl:

Dear Heav'ly Father

Thank you for the purple polka dots.

Indeed.

***

Also: I'm on to you, "Superstars of Dance."

Also, part deux: In the battle between Indian corn (festive fall decor still gracing the bowl on my bookshelf) and puppies, the score-- Puppies, 1 (as in one gigantic mess to come home to tonight); Indian corn, 0 (as in zero kernels left on the actual cob, zero husk left, zero existence in bowl as of today.)

In the battle between puppies and Nintendo DS games errantly left within puppy reach by virtue of the fact that puppies have now made pretty much everything within their reach, the score-- Puppies, 2 (as in Pac Man and Mario Kart), DS games, 0.

Instant replay:

Me: What is all this stuff on the floor?

Puppies: Weloveyouweloveyou! We're so glad you're home! We're wagging our whole bodies!

Me: What are these? Seeds? What do we have that has millions of seeds that they could've gotten? Is this popcorn?

Puppies: Come here immediately so we can explore your nasal cavities with our tongues.

Ian: I'll get the vacuum.

Me: What's this? A microchip? Uh-oh... they ate technology.

Ian: AGH! The DS games! And it's PAC MAN?! Not cool, puppies.

Puppies: While you're cleaning you can watch us poop on the floor! There's corn in it.

Festivus for the Rest of Us

2008-12-31T16:00:00.000-08:00

Returning from Southern California was bittersweet; yes, we were happy to get home to our own beds and routine, but leaving an adorable new baby (Kennedy Eva was born on Dec. 26th) and an adorable toddler Claire (especially in her tu-tu and ballerina pjs) and adorable cousin dogs for entertaining the pups was tough. Not to mention the beautiful Indian Springs Mall with free valet parking.

Ho ho ho!

2008-12-25T12:13:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!!!

Waking up early. A red Christmas sweater. Opening presents. Sticking bows on the puppies. Trying to get a non-blurry shot of Claire in her tu-tu and ballerina pajamas. Eating truffles for pre-breakfast breakfast. Calling all the distant family to say Ho Ho Ho, Don't shoot your eye out. Watching the lights twinkle on the tree. Catching the pups drinking the tree water every other minute. Helping Claire open new and thrilling toys. Finding out that Claire's new President Barbie's name is apparently "Princess Gool." Waiting anxiously for little baby girl Thatcher #2 to be born any day now, three days past due date of Monday. Listening to Christmas music and humming along. Eating German pancakes with spiced peaches for real breakfast. Blogging on my brand new laptop from Santa(!!!) Watching A Christmas Story and reciting all the lines along in my head. A Christmas nap. Christmas dinner with ham, potatoes and all the other trimmings but let's be honest, we could just stop at ham and potatoes and be just as happy. Family. Laughter. Piles of puppies. Children. Christmas.

Loving, loving, loving this time of year.

Backtracking

2008-12-22T17:29:00.000-08:00

Backtracking to November, the Month that Never Was on this blog, we find that Ian turned 34. Happy Birthday, Mr. Johnston. It was fun celebrating with car-themed cupcakes and car-themed party favors and a pizza party with Issac, your November-birthday-too brother.

And although the festive birthday time is now long past, I thought I would just take another moment to remind you that I really, really like you.*

I like you, Ian.
I like you even when you’re tired and grumpy and say things like “I can’t do that right now because I might die.”

I like you even when I’m tired and grumpy and you cheer me up by saying to the puppies, “Mama is having a hard time, let’s go give her kisses and snuggles.”
If the world were a giant dish of our new favorite holiday flavor ice cream (spumoni) and you were the green, I’d want to be the pink so I could be right next to you forever and ever. I know we’d both not want to be the chocolate. I like you because of that, too.
I like you because when I’m having a junk food crisis and want to eat half a bag of Trader Joe’s kettle corn at 10pm on a Tuesday, you don’t judge me. You say, “That looks good; I want some, too.”
I like you because when all the Tech Gods conspire against my cell phone or ipod you just know how to fix it and you try not to make me feel dumb for forgetting, for the tentrillionthbillionth time, how to do it myself.
I like your little dances around the house and how they usually end with some silly spastic slap-low-kick.
I like how I can spot your “bluffing” face during liar’s dice, or anytime, really.
If I am feeling like sitting on the couch and watching all the Thursday night TV shows with the puppies, a blanket and a heater, I know you will come in and watch them with me and let me have all the blanket and be sure to angle the heater so that it gets me too, even if you’d really rather be looking for deals on Craigslist.
I like how when you got your new church assignment into Young Men the first thing you did was make sure your old assignment of caring for a special buddy in Primary was going to be covered by someone as patient and loving as you because he is your special buddy.
I like you because sometimes you will text me from work just to tell me how good the string cheese you are eating is, and then you will thank me for buying it, even though I always buy it.
I like that when we go sailing you are sublimely happy and all is right with the world.
If we go to a movie and you eat too much popcorn you will always say, “I’m never getting popcorn again. Next time I’m bringing nectarines!” but you know that I always want popcorn so you will get some next time, too, even if we have nectarines at home.
If you are reading a magazine in bed and I let the dogs leap up for bedtime and then they jump in your face and crumple your magazine you will stop what you are reading and kiss them and get them all settled in. Some people would push them away or be annoyed or refuse to let them sleep in the bed or shout “Why did you let these monsters in here?!” to their partner, but you would never do that and that is another reason why I like you.
If it is a rainy sleepy Sunday afternoon you will build a fire and want macaroni and cheese and a nap, which is exactly what I want on a rainy sleepy Sunday afternoon, and you don’t even have to ask.
I like how when you go to Costco you will almost always remember to ask me if I need anything. When you forget to ask and we end up with dinner rolls and asparagus when we actually needed grape juice and paper towels you will almost always offer to go back.
If I get into bed and my feet are freezing cold ice cube feet I like how you will always let me put them on your legs to warm them up even if you are a little cold too.
I like you because when you wrap a present you use whatever wrapping paper roll you touch first, even if it is snowflake paper in the middle of June, or sparkly flower paper for a boy’s birthday, or pink and brown cupcake paper for Christmas, but then you will agonize about what color ribbon to use and it always makes me laugh.
If you are feeling reflective you will sigh and say, “Pumpkin, I was thinking…” and I like that, too.
I like you because you have very definitive opinions about dental floss and not many people understand the importance of a good dental floss but you do because you floss every day and you know the difference.
I like that I could write a list like this every day because there is so much about you that I like.
And I like that you like me, too.
I like you, Ian.
Happy Birthday.

*Inspired in no small part by I Like You by Sandol S.Warburg

The State of Things

2008-12-19T23:32:00.000-08:00

1. Finished all the Christmas cards this week and mailed them out. Realized promptly upon mailing largest stack that I had forgotten to put on return address labels.

2. Finished all remaining Christmas shopping this week. Had to do so by memory because nicely organized gift list on binder paper was destroyed and eaten by curious and, as it turns out, cliche puppies. Good thing it wasn't my homework. Also on the death toll by puppies this week: firewood log, entire box of matches, chair pad, a quarter of a particular gift I was making at the time, boogers in visiting baby's nose as pictured here, and two entire rolls of toilet paper.

3. Finished handing out coworker cookie bags filled with store-bought gingerbread men and sugar cookies. When asked if I made them, I plead the 5th. Does bagging and tying them with red and green ribbon count as making?

4. Kitchen table is completely buried under approximately 5 wrapped packages, 40 to-be-wrapped packages, a mountain of crafting materials, gourds leftover from Thanksgiving decor, scattered address book innards, wrapping accoutrement... and a partridge in a pear tree.

5. I still love this time of year.

December

2008-12-06T11:41:00.000-08:00

Bah! Suddenly it's December. And no, it didn't sneak up on me in that lazy, foggy sort of way where you just kind of roll into the next month on your calendar all zen-like and ready for what lies ahead and notice that, hey, it's a new month.

No, November zoomed past at lightening speeds thanks, in part, to the giant work project I am 100% in charge of that occurs in early November, and then also the whole Thanksgiving holiday extravaganza, which came with a very cool visit from the parentals, but also with a delicious side order of something akin to bronchitis only without the wherewithal to actually be treatable with antibiotics. This of course (minus the lingering cough I am still fighting) all came to screeching halt 7 days ago when the calendar was flipped and I slammed into the giant wall of December... Which, I might add, is already rapidly slipping away as the days tick away and I am only about 40% done with my shopping. Bah!

The good news? The tree is up. One whole stored-in-the-closet-all-year-for-its-one-month-of-use-because-putting-it-in-the-garage-might-mean-spider-surprises box of pretty glass ball ornaments went up. Then the second box of all the other ornaments, each delicately wrapped in tissue paper was opened, looked at, and closed almost immediately. I just didn't have the patience to unwrap all of those this year. Maybe next year.

So, the tree this year is a tree of glass balls and lights. I like to think: simple and elegant. Street viewers will think: naked tree. But this is because I didn't decorate the street-view side of the tree as I couldn't be bothered to mountain-goat my way over the writing desk to wedge myself between tree and said front window to hang ornaments.

The pups have taken to the tree nicely. It was, of course, a glorious thing to try and eat and/or jump into, but a few squirts of THE PUNISHER squirt bottle and we seem to be decidedly less interested in destroying the tree. So it lives another day.

In other news, all Stanley wants for Christmas is his two front teeth... Because his baby teeth are falling out and we've taken to calling him the oh-so-humiliating Gummy McGee.

Puppy Love

2008-10-29T20:52:00.000-07:00

Some pics of Stanley the manly & Lucy caboosey:

Aren't they adorable? The kind of baby adorable that makes you sort of catch your breath and dream of being covered in a pile of puppies just like them? Yeah, we think so, too. We are learning how to go potty outside and, when not outside, how to go on the wee wee mat. This seems to be a really difficult concept to master. We weren't hoping for rocket scientist dogs, (well, OK, maybe a little) but geez! How mant times do I have to drag them onto the mat before they get it? I think we're running at about a 60% success rate to date. Puppies: a fantastic argument for hardwood floors.

Some pics of my cupcakes from a baby shower earlier this month. The old standby, dark chocolate with coconut buttercream, and a new venture of dark chocolate with a chocolate-raspberry ganache filling and raspberry buttercream.

The Four C's

2008-10-28T19:14:00.000-07:00

We had some lovely visitors this past week; Tara and Claire-- who is almost two years old, if you can believe that (I can't) and stunningly squeezable dressed in her costume-- and Aaron, Keri and their tiny tot crew J1 and J2, were all up from So. Cal, which meant a perfect excuse to attend an annual "Trunk or Treat" event. Feeling batty, the pups decided to come dressed up as well.

The Four C's of Halloween were in full effect: candy, costumes, cuteness, and, inevitably, crying.

New Arrivals

2008-10-19T20:48:00.000-07:00

Everyone, meet Stanley and Lucy: the newest members of the family, 10 weeks old and tons of hilarious, squishy, wrinkly, soft, floppy, silly, cuddly, waggly, adorable puppy fun.

Lucy with the amazingly kissable black nose.

Stanley with his chocolate nose and hazel eyes.

Double trouble.

Baconriffic!

2008-10-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

Is it possible I really have more to say about bacon? I mean, have I not already beaten this topic to death? Apparently not.

This lovely breakfast (or anytime in my opinion) delectable delight is fuel for many a blog post to come, I fear. But, today? Today is about my adventures with caramelized bacon. Did I tell you? I made it last weekend. And it was sooooo delicious. And soooo bad. And soooo deliciously bad.

The recipe could not be easier. Two ingredients: brown sugar and, you guessed it, bacon. You coat the uncooked bacon with the brown sugar and place on a rack. Place the rack on a rimmed baking sheet and bake at 350F for about 8 minutes, flip the strips over, bake another 8-10 minutes, let cool. Word to the wise: line the baking sheet with foil. I didn't do this. Sticky.

I'm not sure how it is this whole thing works because, theoretically, since you're baking on a raised rack, the juices and fats actually drain onto the sheet below instead of the bacon cooking in its fat like it does when you fry it. So I expected the bacon to be less greasy. I mean, right? But no. The sugar coating somehow helps the bacon actually retain major juices (or maybe it starts breaking down the meat thus making it juicier?) because this stuff is still super juicy. I don't know. I'm not a meat-sugar-reaction expert (yet) but wow, one piece of this deliciousness will knock your socks off and clog your arteries all at the same time. Just use caution when consuming. Ian and I could not decide what could possibly be worse for a human to eat (that still classifies as an actual food. Obviously things like cement and rusty tractor trailer parts would be worse for you. Lucky for me I won't be tempted because neither of those come in caramelized versions.)

Below is a pic, a la Ian's camera phone, of me at the wedding where I first discovered this amazing juxtaposition of sugar and bacon, (my two most favorite things,) holding it up to remember that historic moment. After this, I had made it my little bacony mission to try to recreate the wedding version but I think they must have used a thicker cut of bacon because theirs was, well, thicker, and it just seemed crispier. But theirs had also probably sat out for a while; or maybe they just baked it longer. I was too eager to wait for the full cool down, so mine was still a bit sticky but mmmmm. Melt-in-your-mouth bacon candy. It's so... so... yummm. I need a word that means both sinful and heavenly. Sivenly?

Since I had made a whole plate of the stuff and knew that with each bite my cholesterol was being multiplied by 10-- or to the power of 10-- I offloaded most of it to my wonderful neighbors/family. Having house guests of their own, they were eager to relieve me of my bacon burden, to rave reviews.

Now, some of you were naysayers last time I wrote about this and to you I say (emphatically, and possibly with a British accent): TRY IT! You will either a) love it, or b) not love it and leave more caramelized bacon for the rest of us, or c) immediately go into grease/sugar coma and still leave more caramelized bacon for the rest of us. It's a win-win.

Fun With SkyMall #2

2008-10-04T10:18:00.001-07:00

Back by popular demand (read: two people asked me to do another one) is FUN WITH SKYMALL. Can you spot the real text that accompanies the following really-for-sale-at-SkyMall item? It's not as easy as you think. (Well, OK, it probably is as easy as you think.) So without further ado... I bring you Fun With SkyMall #2:

A) "My Precious"- The one ring is suspended in the center of the sphere that rests in front of Gollum. Tempting and close yet unattainable. Crafted in cold cast porcelain and fine pewter. Measures approximately 7 inches in height. $97.50

B) Make your fellow AV Club members uber-jealous with this collectible of Gollum and his precious. Authentic Elfish inscription on ring can be read with a magnifying glass (sold separately.) Generous crevasses will effectively collect dust and other dirt, making it all the more realistic in the glow of your video game console as it sits in your room (the converted basement of your parents' house) year after year. Made in Mordor. $129.99

C) "My Precious" - At only 7 inches in height, this lifelike pewter recreation of this Lord of the Rings scene is the perfect desk accessory. An ideal size that won't overshadow your Star Wars figurines, the pewter is a perfect balance to the XFiles alien memorabilia on your uppermost cubical shelf. Your fellow programming bros and D&D teamsters will evoke the same look of lust as Gollum when they see this! Plus, if you ever meet a girl you've got the ring covered. $49.99

D) Makes a great gift for this season's white elephant gift exchanges or for any of the socially awkward people in your life. At only 7 inches in height, Gollum and his coveted ring are portable yet sturdy and solid-- making this a great on-the-go weapon. And, with that strained look on this creepy character's face, this truly multi-prupose collectible makes a wonderful nightmare inspiration for any small child you wish would leave you alone. Can also be converted to a music box; theme from Psycho sold separately. What a precious value! $79.99

E) This magical pewter moment from Lord of the Rings is sure to bring many "precious" smiles. Beautifully crafted in cold cast porcelain and fine pewter, this striking collectible measures approximately 7 inches. Film-accurate and incredibly detailed, Gollum's face yearns for his one true love just beyond his reach. $29.99

Come On, Cubbies!

2008-10-02T10:30:00.000-07:00

Come on, boys. Please! Win tonight. The Dodgers are silly little nincompoops. Who cares if they have Manny? You have Lou and DeRosa... and the hunger. Game two tonight. Eat up.

Motor Rainbow

2008-09-27T09:20:00.000-07:00

Monterey, being idyllically set near both ocean and mountains, I'm learning is quite a popular destination for large scale events. With Laguna Seca race track just a few miles from downtown Monterey, car events like the Cherries Jubilee and Course de Elegance and Courso Italiano are par for the course (the Pebble Beach golf course to be exact) and they always draw big crowds to our little corner of the coastal world. Sleepy downtown streets are transformed for a few days into hot beds of hot rod activity and real life European stereotypes roam the streets-- their linen suits a flutter in the salty breeze. People really do come from far and wide to attend these exclusive car auctions, and the money-- oh, the money. It's just oozing from everywhere. Diamonds and designer bags the size of small countries roam the streets wild and untamed; men in crocodile shoes and patterned capris and all-but-bashful bling... New money, old money, new cars, old cars-- all strolling, rolling and swirling about.

Ian loves to take it all in. Every car, every detail about every car; he loves to hear the motors roar (or putter in some cases), smell the leather, gawk with awe at the price tags and chortle at the top speeds... It's like his own personal version of heaven.

As for me? Well, there's simply not enough caramelized bacon to hold my interest, frankly. But I still go to support the home team. I take pictures of the shiny, Skittles-colored cars for Ian so he can remember the few days a year of drooling and coveting and geeking out about things with motors. I also look at the auction prices of some of the cars and consider all the other things I can think of to spend that amount of money on... Things like a house, or five houses, or a small country. A small country where I'd allow only linen suits and bacon.

Fore!

2008-09-23T00:55:00.000-07:00

I helped with a golf-themed birthday at work.

The cupcakes:

Dark chocolate cake with coconut butter cream frosting, green with white golf tees. Not a great shot as they sit all squished on the carrier plate. They looked better once set out, but I didn't get a pic in time.

The banner, in all argyle for kicks:

Nectar of the Gods

2008-09-22T17:56:00.000-07:00

We were in Oregon last weekend for a little visit. While there we attended a wedding and quite possibly THE BEST THING EVER happened: I was standing with Ian on the patio of the very fancy golf club where said wedding took place, holding our very fancy wedding drinks (club soda and lime) in our very fancy clothes (I in heels as high as the mountains, I swear--I was 7 feet tall), with other very fancy wedding people, when a very fancy catering staffer approached with a tray of something or other and says, "Caramelized bacon?"

I'll give you a moment. (I know I needed one.)

Yes, CARAMELIZED BACON. There's such a thing. And I found a recipe so guess what's about to happen this week in my kitchen? It's like when the syrup gets on the bacon, only less mapley and more crispy-y. And it. is. wonderful. Need I say more?

Dreaming about the caramelized bacon:Also starring a somewhat new haircut. Something about back-to-school time always makes me want to cut my hair. This year I gave in even though I am not in school, nor am I "back to" anything, really. Just the same old stuff; workin', eating bacon... the usual.

To All the Great Mormon Moms Out There

2008-09-20T12:07:00.000-07:00

This card is for you:

Made me smile.

See more cards from this site here.

CB Comes to Town

2008-09-17T23:04:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago Claire came for a visit. Goldilocked and constantly in motion, little Big Apple native ClaireBear reminded us how lucky we are to have her back on our coast.

Beehive State

2008-09-08T19:22:00.000-07:00

We decided to celebrate Labor Day weekend with some good ol' fashioned labor. Who needs cushy plane rides and hotel suites when you can drive 12 hours in a Jetta? Our thoughts exactly.

So, we braved the open road and headed out for Utah, the beehive state. Since we took off after work one evening, we decided sleep would be a good idea and planned to stop in Reno for the night. Reno, people, can be summed up in two words: Super Lame. Another two? Smokey Trash. And, just for kicks, another two: Depressing Hole. You can tell I'm a big fan.

OK, so as far as I could surmise Reno is awesome if you're a 73-year-old chain smoker with a weight problem or 45-year-old divorcee with a mullet and a gambling addiction. But it turns out that I'm neither of those (yet). So the booming metropolis of Reno has little to offer me; I was just hoping for a decent meal and a nice bed for the night. Alas, in Reno "french dip sandwich" means "flesh-colored fat with American cheese on top, delivered by quite possibly the oldest waitress this side of the Mississippi" and "non-smoking room" means "a room that's non-smoking only if you don't smoke in it." So, a dismal night on all accounts. I did win $15 at a nickel slot machine. And promptly lost it on another nickel slot machine. Just goes to show the whole no-gambling rule is a good one. I think this should be expanded to a whole no-Reno rule, but that's a campaign I'll have to take up in the future.

So. Utah. We finished our drive the next day and arrived in NSLC for an evening of R&R and PF Chang's and FroCustard and to look forward to other exciting adventures (and abbreviations, apparently) to be had.

Saturday we got to the labor part of the Labor Day excursion-- which was awesome. We got to visit with some of our very good pals from NYC: Ben & Julie and their brood-- the twins, and baby Robbie, and a bazillion pumpkins from the pumpkin patch Ben planted in their backyard.

See the fruits of our labors here.

One big girl bedroom for Kate and one big boy bedroom for James. It was a team effort with the whole fam (except Robbie. I didn't want to say anything at the time but all he did was sleep and eat. He's kind of lazy.) That night those of us of the adult kind dined at Cucina Toscana, one of the best restaurants ever to grace the SLC scene as far as I know. Loved it!!!

Sunday was spent with the fam, but not without a quick visit with more NYC BBFs now transplanted to the gret stet of U-T, the DeMs. Luc is such a little man now. He and Ian bonded over a shared affinity for Ian's french toast and Luc and I bonded over a shared affinity for the bows on my peep-toe heels. Good times had by all!

We made the trek back on the holiday Monday and it took us 15 hours thanks to a little phenomena called holiday traffic. I would have officially lost my mind had it not been for sweet XM Radio; namely, the comedy channel.

We realize now that driving from CA to UT on a holiday weekend is a teeny bit crazy. All in all though, we enjoyed our quick trip and buzzing around the beehive state as best we could. Next time, however, just as a busy bee should, I'm hoping to fly there instead.

Fun With Sky Mall

2008-09-03T21:21:00.000-07:00

I'm answering Mandi's blogvite to make fun of Sky Mall stuff, (even though I totally have the Sky Mall bug sucker vacuum and use it ALL the time. Also referenced in the post below.)

When considering the random assortment of product gracing the glossy pages of this notorious or other similar in-flight magalogs (the ones that you find yourself forced to peruse when the crossword and su doku and peanuts are finished) there are always more than a few items that have me wondering, "What the bleep were they thinking?!"

Like this one, found in the MEN's apparel section:

Drink it in.

Cats for Peace.

Men's apparel.

Seriously.

!

And now for the really fun part! (Almost as fun as the crossword and su doku? You be the judge.)

Ladies and gentlefolk, it's time for...
NAME THAT COPY!
Which of the following copy blocks actually accompanies the stunning Sky Mall men's sweatshirt pictured here? See if your marketing skillz and savvy stack up by selecting from the options below, or, better yet, comment and nominate your own!

A) Who says you have to outgrow getting beaten up because of your clothes? Me-OW! Lap up the wonderful irony of it all as you get the fur kicked out of you. Made in Minnesota. Available in sizes M-XL, and in white only.

B) They're organized. They're marching. And they won't rest... until they feel like it. White 50/50 cotton-poly blend sweatshirts. Imported. Available in sizes M-XXL.

C) The passive paws on this over-sized white cotton-poly blend sweatshirt help keep out the chill while you chill out... in rehab. (It's OK, you're not allowed to date there, anyway.) A sobering reminder of other bad decisions made while under the influence. Imported. Available in sizes L-XXL.

D) A great gift for any male with social anxiety disorder or your neighbor with special needs, this comfy, cozy 50/50 cotton-poly sweatshirt is sure to be a purr-fect fit! They'll think it's the cat's pajamas! Made in China. Hairball free, guaranteed. Available in white only. Sizes XS-XXXL.

E) Need a surefire, but nonviolent way to announce to the world that you're on a fashion strike? These passive kitties are right up your alley. Good taste is in season when it comes to outerwear, so go ahead: show them all you just don't care. Made in Hell. Available in sizes S-XXL.

F) Fluffy, Muffy and Mittens have one question: Can't we all just get along? Why be catty when you can be purr-fectly cozy? Made in the USA. White 50/50 cotton-poly blend sweatshirts. Available in sizes M-XXL.

Think you can spot the original? Good luck!

The One That Got Away

2008-09-02T19:23:00.000-07:00

So I'm a little behind in my posting and there's much to catch up on, such as the classic car show that hit Monterey a few weeks ago that had Ian drooling and me fascinated by tourists who actually dressed like caricatures of JCrew models. Other things to catch up on in forthcoming posts: trip to Utah, visit from Claire. These, with appropriate pictures and fascinating narration of course, to come. But not today.
This morning a hideous thing happened to me and I have not yet fully recovered and thus I have to keep this short because as soon as I tell my twisted tale of woe I will most certainly have to go lie down. Everyone has their own personal brand of crazy and I'm about to let you in on mine. Here it goes:
I exited the shower this morning, as with any normal work day, and began my morning post-shower routine: dry off, wrap hair, use Qtips, insert contacts, moisturize, comb hair... You get the idea. It's all very scientific, I know. So as I am in the midst of step 7, and I see movement in the mirror-- just over my right shoulder. Immediate freeze.
What do mine eyes behold descending from the ceiling not three inches from my bathrobed body? Yup, you guessed it: an arachnid. (Unless you didn't guess that. Maybe you guessed another something that can descend from a ceiling... I'm not sure I want to know.) Anyway, it's just casually moving on its hair like butt string thing down the entire length of my bathroom literally centimeters from me. (When I get really scared I go metric.) Had I been just a smidge to the left it would have touched my arm. At which point I might have passed out and hit my head on the Chevron floor (our bathroom floor resembles Chevron bathroom tile: Industrial strength. Steely gray with a mauve border. Super c-l-a-s-s-y) and died.
So I turn to look at it in the flesh since so far I've only seen it in the mirror and I determine that it is indeed an offending spider but that I need to psych myself into believing it's not too big or crunchy for me to kill with a tissue because that is the only option. (Some are. Some are so big and crunchy that I only stand a chance of approaching it with a giant boot. Some are too big and/or crunchy and/or high above my head for the boot and require the bug sucker vacuum. The one from Sky Mall. I have it. Seriously. Ian bought it for me because: a) he loves me and would never want me to be uncomfortably confronted by and forced to defend myself from my biggest fear with just a flimsy tissue, b) he got so sick of me making him kill a spider every time I saw one-- which was sometimes in the middle of the night, and c) I literally asked for it during every flight when I'd thumb through Sky Mall and say, "I need that!")
Thankfully step 4 of the morning routine (contacts) was already complete or I may have never spotted the dang thing until it landed on me and tried to eat me or carry me away to its giant mate or bury its young in my skin or something. GAH!
So the thing is now like waist level and I have to kill it. This is very hard because my entire body is rigid and every hair is standing on end and my mouth is dry and my palms and feet are sweaty and my heart is racing and yet I have to somehow convince myself to reach AROUND it and grab a tissue. And I do. Yay! Triumph. But in doing so I have to avert my eyes from freakin' leggy satan and when I go back to find him, he's gone. Tragedy. Only I know he's NOT really gone, because they don't just happily disappear like that or I wouldn't have any problem with them at all. But my bathroom rug is off-white and said spider is daddy-longlegs-tan, so he's now camouflaged in his mid-air flight against the backdrop of the rug as I look down to find him. I scan the entire area for movement. Nothing. He has escaped.
People, this is the worst thing that can happen to a spider phobe. There is nothing more terrifying than knowing a spider is inches from you but not being able to see it or do a single thing about it. Except run. So I did. I fled the scene and got dressed and did everything I could outside of the bathroom. But eventually I had to return to the scene. I scanned the room but no sign of him.
So now he's loose in my house somewhere-- probably in my bed or slippers or the shirt I plan to wear tomorrow, plotting his attack on me and laying eggs. And I'm here, sharing this house with him, and he doesn't pay rent and probably had a party here while I was gone, and every three seconds I swear I feel something crawling on me and have to thwack at my arm or leg or back like some kind of Tourette's sufferer. And all night I will feel this way. There will be no sleep for me... Even though I vacuumed and scanned every ceiling corner and crevasse in every room. And tomorrow when I go back in for the shower routine I won't be able to close my eyes because I will be convinced that he is still in there... lurking, probably on spider steroids and twice as big as he was today. It's irrational, I know. I'm bigger/he's harmless/he's more scared of me... blah blah blah. As if a phobia was ever rational. That's the whole point of phobias. Just like the whole point of bug sucker vacuum marketing is to reel in people like me to pay $59.95 for a glorified dust buster.

So. There you have it. To some, a crazy reaction to an innocuous creature. To me, perfectly normal.

Life's a Beach

2008-08-12T18:13:00.000-07:00

There was a beach-themed birthday today at work and I did what any earnest baking hobbyist would do: I made cupcakes for the occasion. This was my first attempt at themed-- well, anything, really. I think they turned out fairly cute; however, I can take no credit for the design ideas as they were all inspired by books and blogs. A big thanks to Amie for reminding me to cut the fruit roll up with a pizza cutter. That definitely saved time and sticky fingers. Note: fruit roll ups get sticky when left out in the air. Maybe not in desert climates, but in beach-themed Monterey, yes... So we had some life preserver casualties this morning when I uncovered the little devils, but I was able to salvage most of them. Next time I'll slap those stripes on at the very end, just before serving, or try using licorice ropes instead maybe. The "sand" is just cinnamon and sugar mixed together and the fish are just regular Swedish fish. (The little goldfish crackers looked so much better, but a salty topper on a cupcake seemed weird.) They were a hit in this non-desert, but pro-dessert climate.

Well Played: Carr's

2008-08-05T18:53:00.000-07:00

When life gives you lemons... get someone from the Carr company to make you Ginger Lemon Cremes. Um, hi. Have you had these yet? Costco has them in a three-pack and our generous family next door and fellow foodies passed a box on to us. Don't think I'm not about to go to Costco right now and stock up-- 'cuz I am. These rule.

I tend to not be overly excited about lemon-flavored anything. I can dig a lemon cupcake now and again (PS- for those of you who have tried my lemon cupcakes via the recipe I posted way back when: we made a wild discovery in the form of Trader Joe's lemon curd the other day-- add it to the frosting and, to quote Emeril, BAM! Even better. Plus, you can skimp on some of the butter that way, too. Healthier-ish. Bonus!) but for the most part, I'm not a huge fan of the lemon bars/pies/candies/squishies that so many (read: Ian) hold so dear. So, I wasn't expecting to love (read: devour) these Carr's Ginger Lemon Cremes (read: pieces of heaven), but I did. After all, the box does say "international favourites." Mmmm so Britishy.

They are crispy, creamy, tangy, tarty, salty, power-packed-with-flavor, sweet perfection. They are the perfect end to any meal, I've decided. Or start.

It's like what would happen if a Girl Scout Lemonades cookie met and fell in sweet, crazy love with a Nabisco Ginger Snap cookie. They would reproduce to give the world these delicious hybrid cookies of citrus-spicy delight. (One note, however, when twisted open to eat the cream Oreo-style, it's a leettle disappointing. The cream alone lacks a certain gummy-fluffiness that I assume is only achieved when synthetic chemicals are mixed with lard, as in the aforementioned Oreos. And also because this cream is spelled "creme," so that probably has something to do with it too. Best to just munch in their native, whole form.)

Well played, Carr's, well played.

The Pie Principle

2008-07-21T18:57:00.000-07:00

See that little beaut there? That's my cherry pie. MY cherry pie. This is a big deal. Allow me to elaborate.

I have one stance on pies and it is this: buy them. After the personal apple pie disaster of Thanksgiving 1996, I gave up making pies for good.

Flashback:

Me: Hey, extended family, I've made a delicious apple pie for our holiday dessert! The recipe is my home ec class recipe, so I know it's good! Dig in.

Everyone: Yay! (pause) Uh... mmm? gag. Dry crispy crust, crunchy apples... Ew. Laurel, stick to ceramics.

Home ec, schmome ec; as far as I was concerned pies were hours of work for a tiny chance of a tender crust and sweet, gooey filling, but almost guaranteed in my case to yield burnt crust and soupy slop. So I resorted to buying pies.

And in Store Bought Pie Land I have lived happily ever since. Until I saw Katie's cherry pie blog that made my mouth water and my tummy instantly scream for home made cherry pie. So, I did what any rational person of my pie principle beliefs would do: I went out and bought one. And it was oh so disappointing. Mushy, flavorless, blah. Wo was me.

My craving wholly unsatisfied, I decided to buck my pie principle and try my hand at a home made pie. People make pies. It doesn't kill them. They can be yummy. My oven mastery is much better now than it was in high school, after all. I could do this. Katie did it and she's got three little ones at home, including a newborn, which means she probably had to do it one-handed. I had two whole hands and no interruptions. And, it was 4th of July weekend; what's 4th of July without a cherry pie? Un-American. So, yes, I can do this. I had talked myself into it.

So, I did what any homemade cherry pie-craving enthusiast would do: I went to Costco and bought 5 million cherries, 18 million sticks of butter, and a vat of Crisco sticks. (You never know when Armageddon will strike and you'll need that extra 55 pounds of Crisco. You. just. never. know.)

THEN it turned out that no one in the world had a cherry pitter I could borrow so it was off to Williams-Sonoma for one of those bad boys. See? Do you see how making a pie is just never easy? I rest my store bought-only-stance case.

Anyway, still in it to win it, I decided that I'd better read up on the inner workings of pie crust in my kitchen bible: America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. In there it told me everything I needed to know, including that for cherry pies (the very pie upon which I was about to embark) you should really use sour cherries because normal cherries lose flavor when you cook them. Great. I had a Costco-sized flat of regular, sweet cherries. Off to a bad start.

The crust. I started making the crust only to learn via online comments for crust recipes say to use half cake flour and half regular flour. And there I was with nary a puff of cake flour to my name. PS, I don't even think Costco sells the stuff. So I gave up on the crust.

I know, I know, I'm a bit of a quitter sometimes but honestly I really needed this pie to be good. Now was not the time to risk wonky crust. So I used the store bought Pillsbury roll-out crust that I had purchased as a back up.

This was the pie recipe I used:

1 to 1 1/4 cups sugar

1/4 c. cornstarch

1/4 t. cinnamon
1 pinch of salt

6 cups pitted cherries (PITTED is key. Don't trust your non-detail-oriented husband to do this part.)
1/4 t. almond extract

You mix it all together and dump it in the bottom crust. (It takes the kitchen bible three steps to say this.) Then you add the top crust (I did lattice because it's perdy.) Brush lattice top with water and sprinkle with 1 Tbs. sugar. Move an oven rack to the lowest position and heat the oven to 500F with a rimmed baking sheet inside. Then put the pie on the sheet and turn oven to 425F and bake for 25 minutes. Then rotate the sheet and turn oven to 375F and bake until juices are bubbly and crust is deep golden brown (~35 minutes.) Cool and serve at room temp.

My pie didn't get to cool much before it had to be transported to the family dinner event. And, yipes, transportation of a hot pie proved really problematic as the juices just kept leaking out everywhere. We finally had to pull over and drain the dang thing. We probably dumped out about 3/4 cup of juice. After that, though, there was no more leakage. It had cooled to room temp before it was served and let me tell you: it was AMAZING. Best cherry pie ever.

And the whole fam loved it, and there wasn't a crumb left. A few pits, though (Ian, you're fired from pie duty.) And, I'm here to report that the cherries did NOT lose flavor as predicted in the Revelations section of the kitchen bible. They were tender and sweet and bursting with cherry goodness. And there was still enough juice left to make it feel like a pie and not just cherries with crust. It was really wonderful. There. I said it.

SO, bolstered by my culinary feat of wonder, I thought I'd try again. The aforementioned Costco trip also yielded a carton of giant super-ripe peaches and they needed to be used up. So, still heady from my recent pastry success, I decided to make a peach pie the next day. And this time, I was taking no prisoners. It was ALL going to be from scratch. That's right: cake flour and cubes of Crisco in hand, I was going old-school.

Here's the crust recipe I used:

1 1/4 c. cake flour

1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour

2 Tbs. sugar

1 t. salt

8 Tbs. Crisco cut into pieces and chilled

12 Tbs. unsalted butter cut into pieces and chilled

8 Tbs. ice water

You're supposed to process the flour, sugar and salt in a blender or food processor but I just sifted it together. Then you scatter the shortening and and mix until it's coarse. Then add the butter and mix until you have coarse crumbs. (Confession: I went to YouTube and watched a Joy of Cooking demonstration for pie crust to make sure I knew what "coarse crumbs" should look like.)

You sprinkle the ice water over the mixture a few tablespoons at a time and then use a rubber spatula to kind of press it all together. Then you divide the big dough glob into two pieces and wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes. See? See how store bought dough is sooo much easier? When you take the dough out, let it warm up a bit so it's not too stiff and then roll out each half.

The peach pie recipe is here:

2.5 lbs. peeled, pitted peaches, sliced 1/3" thick (about 7 cups) (Um, this takes about 982 years, BTW)

1 to 1 1/4 c. sugar

3 to 5 Tbs. potato starch (I used cornstarch & quick-cooking tapioca)

1 Tbs fresh lemon juice

Pinch cinnamon

Pinch nutmeg (didn't have any, used Allspice; not sure how many kitchen bible commandments this breaks, but it did not prove fatal
Pinch salt

Because the peaches were sooo freaking juicy I was scared I didn't have enough thickening agent, so I used like 5 T. of cornstarch and added some tapioca too. Then I did what any traumatized pie-juice-leak veteran would do: I drained the peaches a bit before adding to the crust.

Bake this one the same as the cherry, but I added foil to the top halfway through to prevent the crust from getting too dark.

So, how did this peach pie fare?

Well, it was served to much of the same crowd as the cherry had been the night before, and everyone LOVED it, some said it was even BETTER than the cherry and that the crust was noticeably more DELICIOUS. Dang it. I was hoping no one would notice a difference in the crust and I could stand by my theory that store bought crust really is the way to go. But, alas, every single person remarked that the crust was better the second time around. Some people even exclaimed it was the best pie they'd ever had. Some of these people people are prone to hyperbole. But I did what any rational self-respecting pie slave would do: I believed them anyway.

Flick Chick: The Dark Knight

2008-07-19T12:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've done a Flick Chick blog, and I assure you there has not been a shortage of movie going by yours truly (a bonafide movie popcorn addict) in the past few months, but there has been a shortage of time and worthwhile movies about which to write. Last night's flick, however, proved worthy. Oh so worthy.
So, OK, superhero DC Comic movies are not everyone's cup of tea, I get that. They tend to not be mine, either. (Trust me, I was subjected to Hell Boy II last weekend. A cup of-- well, I don't know what, but most certainly not mine.) But I have always enjoyed the Batman series. Maybe because I enjoy a darker hero-- one who is flawed, mysterious and private, unencumbered, and whose hair doesn't glisten with Ken doll sheen. Maybe because his alter ego isn't the cliche nerdy reporter/science geek/kid-everyone-picked-on-in-school, but a hottie philanthropist billionaire and that's just... well, sexy.
While never actually owning a comic book, my friends and I still watched the Keaton/Kilmer/Clooney movies with unfettered interest and, of course, wanted to be as beautiful as Catwoman when we grew up. I loved the Batman music, the all-black Batsuit, the supersweet 007-esque toys. I loved my Batman sheets when I was younger (you're thinking 8 years old, right? Nope: college.) And, in the newest movies, I heart Christian Bale.
Batman Begins was probably my favorite Batman movie to date thanks to director Christopher Nolan's ability to give the audience a bit of credit and offer a more mature, meatier, darker, less kampy feel to the film; and, of course, the aforementioned Christian Bale who played a Batman with more depth and less ego was the perfect actor to show us the descent into darkness. I also found the villians more believable in Batman Begins because they were more psychopathic (a la Hannibal Lecter) rather than just over-the-top caricatures of themselves (a la Jim Carey as the Riddler.)
I was looking forward to seeingThe Dark Knight because Bale was still the hero, and because Heath Ledger's casting as the Joker was intriguing; Heath had good looks (a cute Batman villain? Can this happen?) and he seemed young for the role which was so... I dunno, iconic for Jack Nicholson.
So last night we waited with the masses and saw The Dark Knight. I give it an enthusiastic Flick Chick rating of Woohoo! Bale is just as suited for the role this time around, but less tortured than the last film required. I sent Ian this e-card earlier in the day yesterday because I was getting a bit sick of the buzz:

And the answer is yes, yes it is. Heath's Joker delivers a deranged psychopathic criminal that is truly scary. Per one of his lines in the movie, "Gotham deserves a better class of criminal" Heath's performance gives viewers a better class of Batman villain. His makeup hides his leading man looks and his age doesn't really factor in the performance the way I expected. His performance is every bit as good as the buzz... His personification of the dark, twisted, son-of-chaos Joker is a jolting punch in the gut throughout the movie. TDK is not a feel-good flick; it is tense, it is sad, it is the darkest yet of the series, but it stands alone as entertaining through and through thanks to all the shining performers and a rare-for-this-genre quality script. And, ps, I TOTALLY called the Aaron Eckhart twist. I won't spoil it here. But I called it early into the film and my little hunch had me even more enthralled to see if I was right. And I was. And it was awesome.
You do not have to be a fan of the Batman series to like TDK-- which I think holds true with Batman Begins, too. Both films stand great on their own as, get ready to roll your eyes, works of cinematic art. I would recommend seeing Batman Begins before seeing TDK however, because there are references you just won't get otherwise-- and Morgan Freeman's character is not developed in this film at all because the director assumes you know who he is from Batman Begins. TDK really is a great movie in its own light, exposing the dark of humanity and the gritty of a Gotham world where, much like our own, the lines blur between terrorism and heroism. Gone are the "holy cheesy, Batman" lines, gone are the slapstick bad guys in tights. Welcome to the new black.

The only thing I found disappointing was the chemistry between Maggie Gyllenhaal and the movie's leading men. I found her a bit flat in her role, her face bothers me (I'm sorry, Jake, but you got the looks in the family) and the love story/back story seem rushed and totally second-fiddle to everything else-- which would have been fine except that it becomes the precipitating driver for the whole last hour of action. So I guess I would have liked to see her story/character a little more developed so that I cared about her more. I think more of her character (preferably played by someone I like to look at more) would have helped give this film a little more balance from the bleak themes that made it a haunting, bitter cup at times. As for truly fun surprises? Anthony Michael Hall (remember him from The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles?) pops up in the second act as a reporter. (No sign of Molly Ringwald, however.)

Still not convinced that TDK is your cup of tea? There's always WALL-E. That was really good, too, and a bit easier to swallow.

Baked Apologies

2008-07-15T18:54:00.000-07:00

So on Sunday I was teaching my little Primary class of 6- and 7-year-olds about how we can correct our wrong choices. We were going around the room talking about how to convey that you're sorry after you make a mistake.

Me: "What if you hurt someone's feelings? How could you show them that you're sorry?"

Kid #1 (aka Captain Obvious): "Say sorry."

Kid #2: "Give them a toy or invite them to play with you."

Kid #3 with wiggly hand in the air: "OR... give them a MILLION pieces of banana bread."

Yup, that'll work too.

Turkey Tour 2008

2008-07-08T22:52:00.000-07:00

At long last, (well, OK, a month later) BEHOLD: the Turkey/Greece trip photos. We started the trip in Istanbul, flew to Dalaman in southern Turkey to pick up the boat, and then we were off. We sailed along the Turkish coast and down to Rhodes and Symi (Greek islands) and then headed back via Marmaris and a few other Turkish ports. Good sailing, great weather, fantastic friends, stupendous sightseeing, fun times, everlasting memories.

You can click on the + image on the lower left of the slide show to speed it up. When you move the mouse over the images, they will pause and the caption will appear. Or, you can hit "View All Images" and see them with captions at your own pace. Many of you know this. My mother, however, does not. (Hi mom!)

Well Played: VW

2008-06-30T23:03:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the Well Played portion of the blog. It's like kudos, but more fun to say with an affected, clinched-teeth accent. Today's candidate: Volkswagen.
Can I just say that I love VW? I love JJ, my car; she's my black beauty, my dark modus transportatus, the shiny belle of the ball, my cavernous-trunk-leather-clad-industrial-floormat -sunroofed Californian dream machine... and for that I thank VW engineers. But today I had to call the VW payment office because we accidentally double-paid this month and we wanted to get the extra payment credited for July. BTW- This happened once with our cable company Comcast (aka Comcrap at our house) and it was the biggest headache ever. VW was so nice. They credited the payment. Took 5 seconds. Bada bing, bada boom, done. Love them! Why is good customer service such a dying phenomena? It's so refreshing when you get someone on the line who is polite, fast, and knows what they're doing.
Well played, VW, well played.

Can't Sleep

2008-06-23T23:21:00.000-07:00

It's late. I should be in bed. I have yet another very early morning tomorrow for yet another work event that will consume yet another week of my crowded time. Before which I will have to email yet another round of spreadsheets about yet another round of catalog covers-- spreadsheets almost done now, but still taunting me from my minimized screens. I gave into the allure of magical Microsoft Explorer for one quick jaunt in the bloggosphere. The scenery is so much prettier here than in Excel.
Things swirling around in my head preventing sleep:
1. How I miss my little snuggle muffin Cody and how Ian and I, I fear, will always be people for whom pets are petchildren.
2. How I'm pretty sure the diet I've been on has morphed, thanks in no small part to the deliciousness of Turkish and Greek cuisine, from "healthy-ish" to "No Carb Left Behind."
3. How I really need to post pictures from our trip but every time (read: twice) I try I get some kind of error on Slide and want to punch my computer screen. (The pic with this post is from a wall in Symi, Greece. The pic in the header with the red bike is from Turkey. Two down. 96 million to go.)
4. How jealous I am of VH1 commentators on the "I Love the 80's/90's/New Millennium" shows who get to sit around in snarky t-shirts and make fun of neon/90210/razor scooters.
5. How, when recently watching VH1's "I Love the New Millennium" commentators mocked people riding razor scooters to work, and I almost fell off the couch thanks to a certain story told by a certain KJ on a certain trip to Turkey regarding scooter riding in NYC.
6. How the retelling of the aforementioned story is noted on my quote sheet from the trip, among others such as (probably only funny to 3 other people who read this):
M: "Have you ever heard of an American cheerleader? I'll bust a hurkey that'll make your head spin!"
N: "I'm SURE you're not nudey patooty in there."
KM: "Flin.... stones."
E: "One death per accident."
M: "You're president, I'm scum... Just like our house. But opposite."
KM: "Are you sure you want me to take the attention off of you?"
KJ: "Don't do it! You'll wet the bed!"
L: "I just smoker-laughed you."
and, of course: KJ's retelling of the ZOOTER incident.

In Memoriam

2008-06-12T07:37:00.000-07:00

Cody
August 5, 2003-June 12, 2008

Really, is there anything better than a wiener dog in a funny, tiny racing outfit? Well, perhaps watching many of them compete against each other in a dash across a basketball court in a completely packed stadium. Perhaps then, yes.

The tension was palpable as six little doxies were loaded into their racing boxes one Saturday in April for the Doxie Derby, a (the) highlight of the 99th annual UC Davis Picnic Day.

The mini-daschunds, in this, the sixth heat of the mini division, were prepped with their racing gear and assigned their matching-color starting box. Owners, fanatical and perhaps a bit frantic, tried desperately to keep their pups’ attention with whatever they had at their disposal—some used toys, others had pom-poms, flags, floppy mop heads and the like—and ran to the finish line to greet and, perhaps, cajole their furry friends to the end in the hopes of Derby glory.

“Ready, Set, Go!” The announcer piped into the mic and the starting gates were raised. They’re off! Sort of. Red takes an early lead and yellow heads diagonally into the crowd. The doxies in purple and orange seem content to hang out in their starting boxes for a while.

And then there’s the little lady in blue.

With all eyes on her, she emerges from the box a bit dazed, but motivated nonetheless. She sees the end of the court and spies her two humans in matching TEAM CODY shirts frantically waving and bouncing about looking generally ridiculous. She’s pretty sure there’s a treat there. So she runs. The crowd roars. Her paws pick up speed and Cody Lightening Johnston races to the finish, just slightly behind the red racer and barely behind the dog in yellow. Third place!

For her triumph she is rewarded with a treat and then is carried back to the starting boxes for heat #2.

Once again the dogs are loaded into their boxes and this time, Cody begins barking in her box. The barks are drowned by the cheers of the immense crowd that has filled, even to the very top bleachers, the entire basketball stadium of the university.

The race begins again with the announcer’s cry and they doxies are released. Once again red takes an eager start. And Cody… well, Cody gets sidetracked with the pup in purple. They decide to do a lap around the starting boxes first. You know, for warm-up. A kind and officiating veterinary medicine student stops Cody from more in-depth exploring of the back of the start boxes and points her in the right direction. Aha! That’s the way to go! And she’s off. Some of the crowd is on their feet! The purple and orange smocked racers set off in varying directions to visit their fans in the crowd. But Cody’s focus in unflinching now, and she runs the length of the court again-- straight into her owners’ loving arms (after stopping first at some other human’s loving arms.) Fifth place! Not bad all things (warm up laps in the wrong direction) considered.

TEAM CODY drew attention all day at the Picnic Day event as passersby asked about her races and cheered her on. Cody strutted around campus in her own TEAM CODY shirt and enjoyed the free treats and new toy as part of the gift bag for race participants. Challenges conquered for the day, Cody slipped into a dreamy sleep for the whole ride home.

And now TEAM CODY faces its biggest challenge yet: separation.

With a rare, dibilitating cancer, Cody's time with her humans was cut tragically short. She leaves behind a void that can not ever be filled, for there will never be another Cody Lightening Johnston. And her humans are left with holes in their hearts-- hearts that ache for a tiny brown furry body to hold, a wet nose to feel poking us in the night, and a white tummy to rub.

Cody is in heaven now, most likely showing all the other dogs how to do some of what she mastered here in her just-shy-of-5-years on earth:
--the crazy run
--beg for food groundhog-style

--execute the perfect face-plant with which to wake a sleeping human
--wolf down an entire microwave burrito without chewing
--ward off large neighborhood dogs by barking from under the covers of the bed
--pee/poop on the floor when visiting other people
--pee/poop on the floor when at home
--steal food from small children (i.e. microwave burrito)
--claim to not be a dog person and refuse to socialize at dog parks

--be the cutest puppy in the entire history of the world
--steal treats from mild mannered dogs
--sneeze in sleeping humans' faces
--sleep on human faces
--chase cats, but secretly be scared of them
--refuse to come when called
--sleep in the sun
--burrow in hot laundry
--eat any and all human food except for, only sometimes, lettuce
--remain adorably sweet even when sick

Thanks for being such a big part of our lives, Cody. You brought smiles to all and made even the worst day bearable. We will miss your little licks, your big brown eyes and the greatness of your love, and your silly little waggly tail--which wagged even until the heartbreaking end.

And we will always admire the Lightening speed with which you ran straight into everyone's hearts.

It's Not You, It's Me...

2008-05-17T16:53:00.000-07:00

Sorry I've been a little neglectful of the blogosphere lately. There has been work... and more work... and a sick pup... and baby showers... and then visitors... and, well, you get the idea. More updates soon. In the meantime, yay for May and yay for less than two weeks until vacay.

Happy Birthday Ookums! The BIG 29!!!

2008-05-09T22:17:00.000-07:00

To our dearest Pookie Britches,

Cody and I just wanted to say Happy Birthday! So the big 29'er eh? Live it up like its 2008 'cause your 20's are almost gone baby gone. Hugs and Cody kisses for you all day! Hope you got all you wanted, i.e. a shinny new black Ferarri-- I mean swanky new black ipod nano.

PS- To all out there in the blogosphere stay tuned for the BIG 30 party 'cause I hear its gonna' be bangin'! Something about Paris, lots-o-food, and a canal tour of Europe...

Peace

-Ian

The Update

2008-04-15T15:50:00.001-07:00

Thanks, everyone, for all of your support and happy thoughts and well-wishes to our beloved Cody-kins. The latter half of last week was scary and filled with emotion with regard to our little furry one. The initial procedures in Santa Cruz at the specialist revealed some disturbing stuff and the word "cancer" was being thrown around a lot. No fun.
As of Saturday, however, the pathology report and chest x-rays (yes, she went in for an eye problem and ended up exhibiting mysterious problems in her lungs when the vets poked her in other routine places) had come back cancer-free, so that was good news. Not she-has-no-cancer-at-all news, but we-didn't-find-massive-cancer-right-off-the-bat news. So, it's being ruled out slowly but surely. As of today we don't know much more, but are waiting on some cultures that should indicate more about this thing that seems to be damaging her eye tissue and bones (and lungs?). Should the culture be inconclusive, a complete blood work-up will need to be done, and then possibly some more tests at UC Davis. Psst- Did you hear that, too? It sounded like a giant Cha-ching...
However, so far, our vet is still optimistic about Coders being able to run in the derby this weekend, so we're hoping Team Cody can still make a showing. (Let's hope there's a cash prize at the derby!)

Worried Sick

2008-04-10T13:17:00.000-07:00

Our dear little puffy-eyed darling Cody is in the hospital today in Santa Cruz at the ophthalmology clinic. This latest flare-up of what has become known as "the condition" on what has also become known as "the million dollar dog" is pretty bad and there's now mysterious swelling behind the eyes as well. If today’s procedures don’t work we’ll be off to UC Davis for an MRI perhaps as soon as tomorrow…

And then we’ll have to come live with you because we’ll have given all of our rent money to veterinarians.

The Perfect Cart

2008-04-07T20:52:00.000-07:00

It's over! The second-largest event of my work year is no farther away than it is RIGHT NOW and I'm relishing in that delicious thought. I made it back from Long Beach no worse for the wear (the same could not be said about Chicago last November, after the largest event of my work year-- but that's another story) and next year this event will be in Sacramento, which means no last-minute shopping for 3-oz. bottles of toiletries and no chatty seatmates on crowded planes. No, next year I'll be driving the four hours to Sacramento in the comfort of JJ, and in the evenings seeing wonderful friends who have since moved to Sac-town, and maybe stopping through Stockton on the way back for some family time-- which will probably also involve a delicious dinner out somewhere totally cliche but never disappointing, like Marie Calendar's. Mmm, pot roast and pie... delicious.

Speaking of other delicious thoughts: it would not be a Friday night in married suburbia without a trip to Costco. A few weeks ago I found myself in one such warehouse kingdom of everything from gourmet apple tarts to eye glasses to bulk wine as we stocked up for a sailing trip. I was convinced that the perfect sailing food, as with any activity really, involved bread and cheese, so the first stop was the baguette and brie section. Then fresh, juicy and giant blackberries (a whole huge container for $4.99! Beat that, Oregon roadside stands!) caught my eye and I knew I'd be making little baguette-brie-blackberry sandwiches on which to nosh whilst out to sea.

Then some fresh mozzarella and giant, juicy tomatoes (heirloom are not yet in season, but I wait... I wait) and basil for a nice caprese salad. So what if it's not really finger-foody enough for boating? Everyone likes little towers that involve mozzarella. Everyone. Right? Then some chocolate something or other, and some rolls for Ian to make tiny ham sandwiches.

Anyway, the shopping took a brief hiatus as I explored the reading material area and came across the America's Test Kitchen Best of 2008 recipe review. (Insert column of light from on high and angelic choir.) I love America's Test Kitchen and the fact that the best recipes for 2008 were already in print, and wholesale, made my heart pound. I gleefully tossed the thick, tantalizing magazine into the cart. And then I surveyed the contents: breads, cheeses, some tomatoes, some blackberries, chocolate, and a margarita pizza...And a magazine of tried-and-true-and-new fabulous recipes. I gasped and grabbed Ian's arm. "Look!" I whispered. "It's the perfect cart."

He looked down, nodded slowly, then tossed in his Popular Mechanics magazine-- the car issue. "There," he said. "Now it's perfect."

FIVE...

2008-04-01T20:01:00.000-07:00

...things that would have made my life exponentially easier today and would probably prevented the very stressful blink-back-the-angry-tears-and-get-it-together-woman!* drive to Costco this evening:

1. A Blackberry (not the kind you eat) to remind me that my early-morning management meeting was not, in fact, at my place of employment, but at a completely different place, entire miles away. Go figure.

2. A machine that would make all the slow drivers suddenly disappear from my commute-- or, better yet, a go-go-Gadget helicopter.

3. A personal chef to have the dinner that I needed to take to a new-baby family ready when I got home (late, as usual) from work. I blame said imaginary chef's lack of existence for the sad baked ziti the family ended up with instead of the gourmet meal they deserved.

4. A personal packer to go get all the last-minute travel stuff I need for my business trip tomorrow and then find a way to fit it all in my carry-on.

5. An auto-response-generator in my e-mail program for the seriously passive-aggressive reply I received from one of my colleagues that put me over the edge just as I was leaving (*see above) that would have screened the message and returned it with a DELIVERY FAILURE NOTIFICATION: Your email has not been delivered to sender due to passive aggressive content. Please re-write sans any attachments of bitchiness and re-send.

The Tax Man Cometh

2008-03-20T20:14:00.000-07:00

Oh, taxes. What would April around our house be without you? Beautiful? Glorious? Curse-word free? A musical, syrupy sweet scene from Enchanted? Probably. Our accountant gave us our final tax forms today, complete with little "sign here" stickies. I love those. I love thunking a massive messy pile of papers and receipts and spreadsheets and forms to someone in an office with shiny desks and real plants and then getting back a smaller pile of papers with "sign here" tags on them. It's just so easy. Who has time to flip through 17 pages and find the places to sign? Give me bright red tags, people. I am paying you, after all.

(I relate this fully realizing how pretentious accountant sounds. Let me clarify; we do not have enough money to need, or afford, an actual retained accountant. But, we did need to get our taxes done and the CPA in my office building complex happens to do normal peoples' taxes for cheaper than H&R Block. Of course, we probably could've gotten them done in the strip mall near Target where the little man/woman in an Uncle Sam outfit and beard dances around with a sign advertising something like Crazy Eddie's Low-Cost House of Tax Service. But, oh, I dunno-- people in costumes on street corners just never really sway me to stop. Call me old fashioned... I prefer coupons.)

Receptionist: Welcome to Crazy Eddie's House of Tax.

Me: Uh, yes. I'd like to get my taxes done.

Receptionist: Take a seat over there by the ficus.

Me: I have a coupon for buy-State get 20% off Federal.

Receptionist: Great, that'll be $199.95.

Me: Good deal. Does that come with "sign-here" tags?

Receptionist: No. Those are extra.

Me: Bah! Should've gone to my accountant!

Receptionist: Well look at you, miss fancypants. Get out!

Me: I'm sorry! It sounds so pretentious. But I'm not, though. See? I have a coupon! A coupon!

Receptionist: That's it. Next year we're switching to dancing corner people in costume.

Anyway. The taxes are done. It's painful what having exactly zero homes and zero children can do to a well-meaning double-income family of a dog and her two humans.

On a happier note, (thus, food-related as is the current trend) we went to an Indian place for dinner tonight and I fell madly in love all over again with Butter Chicken, Tikka Masala and naan. I ordered my dinner a "7" on the 1-10 spicy scale and it was perfect. And I'm almost positive I could eat garlic/butter/plain naan every day. I want to sleep on a bed of it... It's so soft and chewy and delicious. Mmmm... naan. I don't eat Indian food enough. Every time I eat it I think this to myself and wonder why I don't go out to Indian cuisine more often.

Must be because I don't have a coupon.

Food for Thought

2008-03-18T19:39:00.000-07:00

So. I fear I am mildly obsessed with food these days. If there was a self-help site where you could yes-no-maybe your way through psychological questions to determine if you were mildly obsessed with food, I think I would qualify.

I'd wager I have officially qualified as mildly obsessed with something only two times in my life. Now, as aforementioned, and at age 14-16. Obsession: Keanu Reeves. I was convinced he was the hottest actor on the planet. The only problem? Turns out he's not much of an actor. And hotness, well, it has that tricky trick of kind of fading doesn't it? (Just ask my skinny jeans of 2 years ago... you can find them at the bottom of the jeans stack in my closet, taunting me, judging me, and probably laughing at this post thinking, "cause and effect m'dear. cause and effect.") After failing to somehow pick up on my mental prayer to him every night pleading for him to visit my small lakeside town in Oregon, and buy something at the Rite Aid at which I worked, and then exchange witty banter with me, invite me to Hollywood and live happily ever after with me (after we attended my Prom together, of course) my love for Keanu waned. And now I can barely stand the guy in movies. So there you go. Something to chew on.

Back to food. I'm reading Alice Waters and Chez Panisse, a biography, by Thomas McNamee and I've had to stop reading it at night before bed because it literally makes me too hungry. Aside from reading an actual cookbook, I'm not sure how else to be this tantalized by words about food. And getting up at midnight to make a winter vegetable soup stock or plum tart is not really ideal when one has to be up early for the gym and work. I'm not too far into the book yet, but oh how I love learning about Alice Waters and her brave and confident forge into the American food scene, all intermingled with proprietary recipes too good to ignore. Before her, there were no cappuccinos being served here, no goat cheese in salad (salad without goat cheese? blaspheme!) and even croissants were hard to find. An America I would not enjoy as much, that's for sure. (Insert cackling of 2006 skinny jeans here.)

This weekend involved a new food adventure, so I'll report. As part of a birthday celebration, some beloved ladies and I headed for a night away in Carmel, the neighboring town. I've blogged about Carmel before, with its hobbit-like houses and high-end shops. It's also the site of Katy's Place, which, coincidentally, was on the itinerary for this weekend's fare as well. For Friday's dinner, however, we ended up at Forge in the Forest, a charming restaurant (aren't they all when dining in Carmel?) that offered what might be my favorite appetizer to date: the sourdough bowl of fondue served with an apple and mustard seed sauce, green apples, and strawberries. It sounds a little wacky, I'll give you that. But oh. Dip some San Francisco sourdough into the steamy creamy cheese, scoop on some of the applesauce infused with dark and mild mustard seeds, and add just a bite of crisp green apple... flavor explosion. Dizzingly good. And, as evidenced by this shot, very popular at our table.

Since we had a moment to study the specials as we waited for our table, I was compelled to try the dish that immediately caught my eye: an organic tomato and mixed greens salad with a provolone cheese tower. Like my theory on bacon hats, anything involving a cheese tower pretty much scores with me. So what if I downed a cheesy appetizer? I was going for round two. Besides, it was on a salad. Um, that's practically the same thing as working out. (See? Do you SEE what I deal with? -Skinny Jeans)

To be fair, Amie and I actually shared the salad and her entree, the roasted eggplant and mozzarella sandwich with garlic fries. Delicious, but way too much food for those of us who had consumed our weight in cheese.

Back to the hotel, and laughter and talking ensued, as did a fruit tart with a deliciously buttery crust and void of that yucky fruit tart I'm-so-shiny gelatin that always makes me grimace. Capped off with a cup of delicious peppermint tea, the night was a resounding culinary success, and I daresay a social one as well. Grandma didn't make it past 10, but the rest of us chatted until almost midnight, courtesy of the fun questions Megan provided. Everything from "what do you always need help on" (my taxes) to "what makes something intimidating" (the number of legs it has) to "what's your idea of a perfect surprise" (no idea, but it would probably have to involve a cheese tower now.)

The hotel's "continental breakfast" was touted by its online brochure, but it turned out that by "continental breakfast" they meant coffee and pound cake. I'm not sure which continent pound cake is from, but either way, the allure of Katy's Place was not one to be ignored given the alternative. So off we went. California Benedict has become my favorite and unflinchingly solid choice. (I can't veer. Not even for the blintz special they advertised.) It involves fresh turkey breast and avocado and inappropriate amounts of Hollandaise in which, I presume, to dip the hot skillet potatoes accompanying the meal. Hot chocolate Katy's style could not be skipped given the gloomy rain of the morning. Then, with full tummies and hearts, we ended our girlie weekend and went our separate ways to do normal Saturday things-- and digest.

Gassy

2008-03-15T15:47:00.000-07:00

Okay. Time out.

I just paid a crazy (but, apparently, normal) $3.58/gallon for unleaded, normal gas to fill up fuel-efficient JJ (Jetta Johnston) and it was almost $50 to do so.

I'm sorry, but when did the gas and oil companies start needing more money so badly? I'm pretty sure I need my money more than they do.

Boo.

Our Little Lightening

2008-03-10T19:27:00.000-07:00

Hear ye, hear ye... Be it known that Cody "Lightening" Johnston has been registered for the CA Doxie Derby, an annual, wildly popular event held at UC Davis, sponsored by the veterinary school. There will be nail-biting action, there will be weenie dogs all over the place, there will be a crowd of thousands (seriously-- the video below is from last year. As you can see, the whole basketball stadium is packed. It's clearly the finals because those weenies aren't kidding around!) We have our work cut out for us. We started last night by forcing Cody to watch all the Rocky movies. Tonight, we begin the egg shakes and performance enhancing bones. Training has begun and wardrobe design is underway. Team Cody will be out in full force. Time to go do some sprints. TEAM CODY RULES!

Friday Cuteness

2008-03-07T17:26:00.001-08:00

In a new effort to spring clean in a more sane way, I'm trying to do a little each day until... well, probably next spring at this rate. I decided for next week's cleaning project I would tackle our computer picture files. (PS- after this week's venture my closet is now literally sparkling, and the clothes are hung and/or folded in... wait for it... color order.) But the digital pictures are a whole other beast of a task, one that I figured I should embark upon sooner than later. (With well-named folders like "camera pics" and "pics" and "t.04" it's a real mystery how it can get a little frustrating to find anything.) I decided to post some of the shots that, as I was "organizing," made me giggle--either from plain ol' cuteness or the fond memories associated.

On My Mind

2008-03-02T20:49:00.000-08:00

Methinks Old Man Winter is not so much an Old Man in California, but a toddler-- not nearly as severe or threatening, but prone to some really annoying outbursts. One minute it’s 70 degrees, sunny and tauntingly clear and bright outside. The next, it’s a horrific downpour with winds that shake the windows (granted, not a hard task considering our just-a-hair-thicker-than-hair windows) and the temps plummet to just above freezing. Never really a real winter gale, or real winter temps, (not if you’re from, say, Minnesota) but it’s winter here. And I’m getting kind of fed-up. I think it’s time for a time-out, Old Man Toddler CA Winter. To test my theory, I engaged in a little reverse psychology last weekend: I bought two jackets… That oughta procure some sunny warmth.
My obsession with HGTV may be bordering on unhealthy. I think I watched it for about 4 hours straight last Saturday night. Flip This House, Find Your Style, Flip This House, My First Place, Property Ladder… It was a marathon of sorts. And I loved every minute of it. If one cannot own and remodel one’s own living space, one can watch others remodel and drool on the couch. I think it’s an HGTV law to which I am indelibly unable to break late at night.
I am once again on the baby shower circuit and loving it. This weekend was Brenna's big day and I got to make cupcakes, cobblers, and favors (oh my!) PS- I have yet to successfully make a berry cobbler. Anyone have a great recipe? This one was cherry-berry (cherries and blackberries) and still came out too seedy for me. (And by seedy I mean too full of seeds for my taste, not sketchy; the cobbler very much on the up and up.) So, the quest continues for a good berry cobbler. Next time I'll try the much less seedy blueberry-cherry combo. The peach came out well. Cupcake selections: dark chocolate with coconut butter cream (I dyed the coconut light pink) and vanilla cupcakes with strawberry-raspberry butter cream. Pink frostings, pink bows, pink favors... Good thing Brenna's having a girl.

How ever can LOST live up to last week's episode? So beefy, so fact-filled, so much of what I've longed for for so long. Oh, LOST, you TV version of Ike Turner, you. I just keep taking you back after so many years of emotional roller coasters. Last week you earned my love for another season. But you better get your act together next year and give me more than 13 shows. And you better pay out again like last week or it. is. over. You hear me? Over.

The Return of Sunday Dinner

2008-02-26T19:00:00.000-08:00

Sunday dinners were kind of a big deal growing up. Sundays were the days that often involved elaborate meals—crock pots and bread cookers, special pans and baked desserts, the “good” dishes, the sparkling cider, the “nice” place mats… All pulled from their somewhat inconvenient storage for a starring spot in the Sunday Dinner Show. The smells and sounds of a Sunday afternoon were different than those of the normal weeknight dinners. And the other day, I decided I missed it. And so began the Return of the Sunday Dinner. Exhibit A – two days ago.
I subscribe to Gourmet magazine. (A door-to-door magazine-selling teenager strong-armed me into paying a ridiculous amount for a year of this food-filled publication with her dreams of traveling the world and her well-rehearsed pitch. I’m still trying to remove the “SUCKER” that is apparently tattooed on my forehead.) In last month’s issue there was, what seemed, a wonderful recipe for gratin potatoes and meatloaf; comfort food perfect to help ward off winter’s chill. I decided that on Sundays, unless otherwise rendered unable to get off the couch after church (sometimes this happens… I blame the post-nap headache (sometimes) and HGTV (most of the time)) I would make a nice dinner.
I’m a big fan of gratin potatoes. Any kind of starch cooked in obscene amounts of butter, cream and baked in cheese pretty much sits just fine with me.
I’m not, however, a big fan of meatloaf. In fact, I generally oppose all loaf-shaped, disk-shaped, spherical, and nuggetted meats. Strongly oppose. Like, axis of evil oppose. However, something about the frosty temps outside and the fact, in no small part, that this meatloaf recipe included BACON, had me willing to give it a whirl... er, knead. I gave my slice of meatloaf a bacon hat as seen in the picture at the top of the post. (It’s my own personal belief that almost any food becomes infinitely more edible when under a bacon hat.)
Trying two new, complicated recipes at once was a bit ambitious. But when it comes to cooking (when I’m in the cooking zone,) ambitious is how I roll. The meatloaf turned out really nice as meatloaf goes, so I’ll share the recipe here. The gratin potatoes (pictured above) unfortunately left something to be desired. The nutmeg/salt/pepper mix gave them a really nice, earthy flavor, but they were too soupy for my taste. For all the work that went into them, (i.e. slicing super-thin potato slices for 166 years) I would have been just as happy with some doctored Betty Crocker brand Au Gratin potatoes from a box, which I shall try next time by adding a sprinkle of nutmeg.
To add something healthy to the meal (Thou shalt not neglect one’s food groups), I made some veggies. I was feeling a bit adventurous there, too, so I rejected the frozen broccoli and went straight for the sauteed carrots and those wacky sprouts from Brussels in another dish that the magazine also featured. Those were easy. I managed to over-brown them slightly, but in theory, still an easy recipe. I’ll share that, too.
And so it was with Sunday past, a meal to remember, and recipes to last.

Meatloaf
1 cup fine fresh breadcrumbs from white bread
1/3 cup whole milk

1 medium onion, finely chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 medium celery rib, finely chopped

1 medium carrot, finely chopped

2 TBSP unsalted butter

2 TBSP Worcestershire sauce

1 TBSP cider vinegar

1/4 teasp ground allspice

1/4 lb bacon, chopped (I added more)

1/2 cup pitted prunes, finely chopped (I added just a few because I was skeptical, and also, when I tried to finely chop in my processor they turned to prune goo.)

1 1/2 lb ground beef chuck

1/2 lb ground pork

2 large eggs

1/3 cup finely chopped fresh flat leaf parsley (my Safeway didn't differentiate "flat leaf" anything, so I just used regular parsley tops)

Garnish: cooked bacon strips

Preheat oven to 350. Soak bread crumbs in milk in large bowl. Cook onion, garlic, celery, carrot in butter in large skillet over medium heat until carrot is tender. Remove from heat, stir in Worcestershire sauce, vinegar, allspice, 2 teasp salt, and 1.5 teasp pepper. Add this all to bread crumb mixture. Add finely chopped prunes and bacon. Add meats. Mix it all together with your hands a bit, add the eggs and parsley and continue mixing. Pack into 9x5" oval loaf in the center of a larger 9x13 pan. This allows for yummy end pieces all around. Bake until meat thermometer registers 155F (took mine about 1 1/2 hours). Let stand 10 minutes before serving.

Veggies

2 TBSP chopped shallot (I added more)

3 TBSP unsalted butter

1 lb carrots, cut diagonally into 1/2"-thick pieces

1 lb Brussels sprouts, halved lengthwise

1 cup water

1 TBSP cider vinegar

Cook shallot in half the butter in skillet until softened. Add carrots, sprouts, 3/4 teasp salt, 1/2 teasp pepper and cook until veggies begin to brown. Add water, cover and cook for 5-8 minutes. Stir in vinegar and remaining half of butter and add more salt and pepper to taste.

Monterey Memories

2008-02-18T19:31:00.001-08:00

The nieces and nephews came to visit this weekend. We had fun in the sun in Monterey! Thanks for the fun weekend, kiddos!

Happy Hearts Day

2008-02-14T12:55:00.000-08:00

Ah, ambition. Where would we be without it? Sitting in a dark cave somewhere, eating unseasoned food, wearing fur, that’s where. So yay for that weird thing that compels us to aim for more, try something new, endeavor for something better. How lucky we are to dream, to aspire, to hope.

Yet for all the ambitious ideals that I set out upon for myself, I have to confess that, more often that not, I come up short. It’s OK. I’m not lamenting my underachievement in life or anything—in fact, I would still define myself most days as the opposite, an overachiever in some aspects. But I sometimes seem to set wildly ambitious goals that don’t seem wild to me at all at the time of their inception in my silly little brain, but yet they still just don’t come to fruition. So then I am left feeling a little—oh, deflated. Does this happen to you? Do you think things like, “Why, I’ll just do X, Y, and Z, and all will be perfect!” and then find yourself muddling through just to get to X? Much less even have time to consider Y and Z?

So it was for Valentine’s Day this year.

First off, I was going to continue my tradition of making Valentine’s cards to send to my nearest and dearest. I started this little tradition back in Japan when it was hard to find an inexpensive and English greeting card anywhere in my town and it has continued since-- until this year when I had a plan involving about 800 tiny cut-out letters and some store-bought blank note cards and enough glue to be against the law in some states. What in my silly little brain seemed like such an adorable idea turned into a nightmare of epic (and sticky) proportions as I tried re-creating a quote about love with tiny letters. So then the idea morphed into just saying “Love Ya” in cut out letters—but the finished product just looked so very 5th grade that I was forced to consider crimping my hair and donning a retainer to deliver them. So then the project morphed about six more times until the Monday mail date deadline loomed ominously and I ended up just handwriting the quote in cards and off they went. Sigh.
For the office, originally there were going to be homemade sugar cookies, frosted with royal icing instead of butter cream, and red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and hand-dyed pink sugar crystal hearts atop their frosty white peaks… All to be inserted into decorative treat bags and distributed with hand-made cards. Seriously, this seemed perfectly doable a mere week ago. Because I am, apparently, delusional.
I spent the majority of Tuesday and Wednesday night this week (after going to the gym thankyouverymuch) baking cookies for the festive holiday that is now upon us. Amie and I set out with the goal of making the dough ourselves as we did for the Christmas baking extravaganza, but since I had amassed a strangely large amount of the Betty Crocker sugar cookie mix packets, we decided to use those up instead. A few tweaks to the standard baking instructions and we had a nice amount of roll-out dough from which we made the tiniest of hearts to giant hearts to scalloped-edge hearts to regular hearts. Hearts galore.
After about four batches of hearts, and still as many to frost with three different shades of pink icing, there just wasn’t enough time or energy to make the red velvet cakes that we had been dreaming about for weeks. The tricky thing with cupcakes is that they’re really only good for a day or so, especially if the frosting involves cream cheese. So the alternative to make these on Sunday, when the day was wide open and fancy free, was not really an option for a Thursday holiday. This cookie fest was also my first attempt (since elementary school) at royal icing. Sometime in the late 1980’s I converted to butter cream and just never looked back. But we wanted a smooth, shiny look to these heart cookies, so there you go: royal icing experiment #1.
Dismayed about the red velvet cupcakes that never came to be, I began to consider my options for the handmade cards for the office (to accompany the cookies now in the decorative bags, sans cupcakes.) However, at 10pm on Wednesday night I found myself without any red or pink construction paper and no will to start crafting things out of random paper like, oh, I dunno… post-its.
So work ended up getting hand-delivered bags of cookies sans handmade cards sans cupcakes. I did manage to purchase some old-school Nerds valentines for my own team of word nerds (the copywriting group) in addition to their cookies. Although the cookies received rave reviews and no one seemed to miss their hand-made card, I still feel like I did not execute the Valentine festivities as well as I had hoped. Someday I’ve got to find a way to get my ambitions in line with my abilities (or, ideally, vice versa) otherwise I fear I face many more years (and unfulfilled sugar rushes) of perpetual disappointment.
But, on a day in which we celebrate LOVE, I have to admit that I feel lots of it and conveyed oodles of it, and that’s all that really matters in the end. So although there were no cupcakes, there were mailbox contents and sweet treats to bring smiles and remind people that I care. And that is the part I really love. And it’s enough. (Until next year when I somehow find a way to involve sky writing… )

Playing Nooky

2008-02-10T20:52:00.000-08:00

A while ago I blogged about my aspiring reading nook and said I'd eventually post some pictures. Today was a lovely, aptly named, sunny Sunday and since Cody was feeling cozy in the sunshine of said nook, I snapped a few pictures for posterity's sake. On sunny days, Cody can be found in various locations all around the house, following the sun from room to room. In the late afternoons, this is her spot (hence, the runner covering the top of the shelves-- without it I was battling a permanent stream of paw prints.)
Had I known earlier today that I'd be including the photos on the interweb for viewing by the masses (read: all 6 of you who visit my blog) I would have... oh, I dunno, dusted or something. But, you get the idea.

So as of now, today, the nook is still void of a second chair, an ottoman, and the small espresso writing desk I've had my eye on; and the tall bookshelf (a.k.a. ol' piney) is as of yet unfinished. I can't decide if I should stain it to match the other dark wood in the room or paint it something different. Not scary-different (why, where ever did you find that teal and purple bookshelf? It's so Saved-By-The-Bell-chic!) but maybe just something that's not espresso-- something to break up the dark wood we seem to have accumulated amidst the conglomeration of leather furniture that is our living room at present. Maybe just leave it unfinished? It's just that it's raw wood right now-- which is a pain to dust, ps-- and it is just so vulnerable and naked. One unfortunate misstep with a green Christmas candle in December already left ol' piney worse for the wear. So, hmmm. What do you think?

High Maintenance

2008-02-09T12:11:00.000-08:00

One of the things I love about no-plans Saturdays are that they can often become maintenance Saturdays: days to just get things done that have been put off, perhaps for too long. The maintenance part for Ian usually involves car and boat and jet ski work of some kind. For me, it always starts on a personal level with a muscle (read: flab) maintenance trip to the gym. And then the shower. Is it ridiculously self-indulgent that I love the mornings where everything can get scrubbed?
and landscaped
and moisturized
and exfoliated
and masqued
and polished
and plucked
and flossed
and treated
and-- well, you get the idea.

No-plans Saturdays are becoming luxuries for me. These are the Saturdays when there is nothing else on the docket, which is rare in the craziness that has become a normal Saturday of
breakfasts out (not a complaint)
or big breakfasts in
and baby showers
and garage sales
and road tripping
and babysitting
and cleaning
and working
and errands
and laundry
and-- well, you get the idea.

It's nice to just have a morning off now and again, you know? (Yes, even if it means skipping the non-complaint big breakfast.)

FIVE...

2008-02-05T18:21:00.000-08:00

...Of the best pet fish names I've ever heard:

1. Danny DeVito (pictured left)

2. Skeletor (also pictured left)

3. Fluffy

4. Stefano

5. Mr. McGillycutty

And you?

Calistoga Gallivanting

2008-02-02T18:11:00.000-08:00

Ah, a girls' weekend. Just what I needed to see me through the bleak winter months that have yet to give way to spring... I'm now counting the days until we can do it all again.

Danielle and Sarah, friends of mine since the mid-nineties (aka high school) flew in from Colorado and Oregon, respectively. And, after a stop in Carmel for Katy's Place fare and retail therapy, the girlie weekend had officially begun.

A quick stop for pedicures and then off we drove to Calistoga, a small town in Napa Valley. Though this is the off-season for wine tours and the like, it was the perfect season to go and get inexpensive lodging, great gourmet meals, and spa services without any crowds to contend with. Mapquest said 3 hours to get there from Monterey. The weather gods, California highway patrol, weekend bay area traffic, and my ineptitude to navigate anything but my own bathroom translated the 3 hours into 8. Yeah, EIGHT HOURS. We could have driven to Mexico.

Having only prepared for a 3-4 hour drive, the car was stocked with limited water and short road trip snacks like cupcakes, candy, and nuts. Not exactly sustinence for the car ride that wouldn't end. It did make for some awesome sugar rushes, which led to some serious dance party debauchery, all while sitting on HWY 101 waiting for 2.5 hours while the flood that had overcome the road was carefully circumnavigated. Thank you, Flow Rida, for saving our sanity and bringing us treasured road trip moments like these:

So, after missing our dinner reservations, we ended up in the booming metropolis of Petaluma where there are exactly 4 chain restaurants and a theater. From reservations at the Culinary Institute of America to Applebee's. How far we fall.

Deliriously road weary, we finally made into Calistoga about 9 hours after we left Monterey. (Upon which I declared I was never getting into the car again and that we all had to simply forge a new life for ourselves in Calistoga.) Our bungalow was adorable. After cranking up the heat (did I mention it was in the 40's and poured the entire trip?) we settled in for a much needed good night's sleep. Let the relaxation commence.

Saturday another pal Amanda drove in from Sacramento for the day and we headed out for some small town diner breakfast and then it was off to the spa. An 80-minute massage later, we were gooey lumps of tenderized flesh and after some milling around the Calistoga shops and coffee houses, it was time to get ready for dinner. (Amanda had left to go on her second date with someone who, on their first date, flew her down to LA for a Genesis concert. I really don't know how you top a first date that involves flying somewhere.)

The thing I love about ladies weekends is that you can talk and talk and talk some more and not once do you have to worry that there's too much talking going on and not enough action. Dinner stretched for hours as the talking, laughing, and general silliness took hold.

Not without its share of drama, Saturday rounded out with a lovely floor show by the town drunk at about 11pm, right before the Calistoga police showed up (read: walked over-- because the town is so small) to escort him out of the restaurant. We found some live music at another establishment in town and chilled out for another few hours. A hilariously memorable night on all accounts.
Sunday's lunch at the Culinary Institute was epic (french onion soup with a gruyere soufflé top? hi. skirt steak on cheddar orzo? hello. butter pear tart with vanilla bean ice cream? heaven.) And the weekend began to come to a close.

The trip back to Monterey was significantly less eventful but provided ample opportunity to plant the seeds for the next girls' weekend and to relive the weekend via the quote book, expertly kept by Danielle. Hilariousness! I'm pretty sure we're the funniest girls in America. I'm pretty. darn. sure.

"There isn’t much better in this life than finding a way to spend a few hours in conversation with people you respect and love. You have to carve this time out of your life because you aren’t really living without it." -Anonymous

So true.

Happy Birthday, L

2008-02-01T22:11:00.000-08:00

To my dear little sissie, I wish you the happiest of days! Twenty reasons why I love my 20-year-old sis:

1. Your funny, hearty, belly-cackle that makes me laugh harder than whatever it was we started laughing at in the first place.

2. Your affinity for, and appreciation of, a really good alfredo sauce.

3. Your skull sneakers that you rock with so many outfits.

4. Your love of all things monkey-- I can't see one and not think of you. Especially sock monkeys.

5. Your gorgeous hair! Agh! Jealous! How did you end up with those gorgeous locks of curly beauty? No fair.

6. The way you used to love to cuddle when you were little.

7. The way you carried around your yellow blankie and used it as a cape, a shawl, a hammock, a bag for your toys, a blankie for your baby.

8. Going down the "ooh-aah street" with you at Christmas.

9. Your unflinching love for rodents and the fact that you named your rats such sophisticated names like Connor and Duncan. And I love the way your face lights up when you talk about the "boys."

10. The fact that we have you and your 4-year-old self to thank for the fact that we still know the entire "The Little Mermaid" movie by heart.

11. I love that you love Cody almost as much as I do.

12. Your mad myspace skillz.

13. Your mad texting skillz.

14. I love that you got stuck in the Ford in the middle of the intersection out of gas on your very first I-have-my-own-license excursion and stayed calm enough to push it to the side of the road and did not turn into a puddly mess as we both know I would have.

15. Your amazing compassion and friendship and ability to love.

16. I love the way you are a ray of sunshine into your family's life. The world would simply not be the world without you in it.

17. How hypnotizing watching you crochet can be-- how do people's hands move that fast? How can someone so tough and cool be a crazy-mad-crochet champ on the DL? I love it!

18. I love how as a little girl you meted hearts in mere seconds. Those cheeks, those freckles, those eyes, that Shirley Temple hair... You simply stopped the show whereever you went.

19. I love how despite an entire room full of toys, you often preffered playing "house" with random objects-- like three pencils. The tallest pencil was the dad, the slightly smaller pencil was the mommy, and dad's golf pencils were the babies. You narrated entire stories as the pencil family acted out your household fantasies. It was adorable. And quirky. And so perfectly you.

20. I love that you have a very special day to celebrate today, on your 20th birthday, and that I get to spend the whole day thinking about you and how much I love being able to call you my sister.

Hppy Birthday, L!!!

Standing for Something

2008-01-30T12:00:00.000-08:00

POW: Hand Sanitizer and The Sickness

2008-01-23T20:09:00.001-08:00

I believe my 2nd grade teacher put it best: "If it's wet, and not yours, don't touch it." I believe in this rule. Firmly. And, while I don't consider myself a germaphobe (I lived in NY-- I'm pretty sure one can simply not be a germaphobe and ride the subway every day... or walk up my old apt. building stairs on St. Patrick's Day, either... gross) something hideous has obliterated almost the entire half of our second floor at work and I'm a little freaked out. Enter, The Sickness.

There were 12 people in my general cube area out sick Monday and Tuesday, and I was one of them yesterday. I hauled my disgusting germiness into work on Monday-- mistake. Tuesday, it got the best of me. Today I managed to make it back into the office, but there were still about 8 people out with this "bug." Whatever it is, it spread and it spread fast. Whole departments are still out sick and others are dropping like flies. I am definitely on the mend now, but who knows how long this thing will circulate amongst the cubes. (One tiny bonus: when I'm sick like this my voice gets all raspy and I think it sounds kind of cool.)

Now, I don't touch any fridge handles, bathroom door handles, etc. at work if I can avoid doing so. So I literally had to contract this fun little beast from patient zero (allegedly someone high level in the I.T. department) or just from breathing office air. Lame. It's like I work in an airplane-- without the travel perks.

Anyway, this all brings me to this week's Product of the Week: 2 in 1 HandClens. It's a foaming sanitizer and lotion-- alcohol free, but kills 99.9% of germs. Costco has it for $9.99 and you get two travel size pumps (purses, check) and three industrial size pumps-- perfect for the desk. I will now not go through a day without using this stuff-- and the best part is that it smells oh so nice and doesn't dry your hands out. And, if you eat something right after using it, your fingers don't taste like nail polish remover. Brilliant! Here's to a future more germ-free me.

Heartbreak Mountain

2008-01-22T14:07:00.000-08:00

Heath Ledger died. This is very sad news. I was a fan, I'll admit. Heath, your star was bright, and on the rise. Such a tragedy-- I feel so bad for his young daughter, too. And poor Jake. Oh, heartbreak!

I'll Bring the Tic Tacs

2008-01-17T18:40:00.000-08:00

Here are reasons why you do not want me to be the first on the scene in an emergency:

1. I'm an optimist. (Seriously... just go with me on this.) It takes me about 3 seconds longer to realize what's going on in crazy situations because I am almost always telling myself things can't be as crazy as they really seem. I am much more likely to assume the best than the worst-- like, No, that lady's not about to jump off the building-- she's probably just looking for her car and wanted a bird's eye view...

2. Blood freaks me out. Not pass-out freak out, but stand and stare and try not to get any on me freak out.

3. I'm easily frustrated by people who can't communicate well. From attitudy Rite Aid cashiers who say things like "youwannabringdacowpawn?" and then glare at me when I seem not to understand their horrific English (even though I actually DO understand-- thank you, two years teaching in Japan,) to the tech support guy for my (insert any electronic device here) who is mad that I don't know where the "sleetchekbuddon" is. I have no patience for this. (PS- I'm not one of those "this is America, everyone speak English" people... I'm just one of those, "if your job-- for which you are PAID-- involves speaking to people, why don't you make a teeny tiny effort to help others understand you?" people.) WELL, it turns out most people involved in some kind of emergency situation are usually not very eloquent at the time, and for some reason I can't get passed this. So, um, you've just stapled your hand to your cubical wall? Your tongue? Wait, I can't understand you with all that screaming.

Sheesh.

This all came to light as yesterday I was rounding a corner of my workplace and found a person in extreme duress. I thought she was just huddled over crying/sobbing-- perhaps someone close to her has just died (again, I'm ever the optimist...) but no, she was actually gasping for air. So there I am, first on the scene, and all I can think to do is say, "Are you OK? HEY! ARE YOU OK?" I make sure to yell it so others will come and be able to help-- and all I can think to do after establishing that she is, indeed, not OK, is start asking questions-- which she can clearly not answer.

So there I am, easing her to the ground before she collapses on her own, and asking her if she has an inhaler or if she has eaten something that may have her going into anaphylactic shock... She's unable to answer, I can only assume, as a non-doctor, because she's freaking out and not breathing well. At this point a small crowd has gathered and is asking her a million more questions and someone has run off to call 911.

So what do I do? I leave to go to the meeting I was on my way to in the first place. Yeah. Classy. Just call me a hero...as I seriously duck and run. (Justification station: The paramedics were on their way and she had about 10 other people around her "helping." I just didn't think there was much more I could do at that point, and, if I were the one struggling to breathe, I'd probably not want 10 people around my face.) So I go to my meeting, but then I realize that there are HR rules to these kinds of things and that someone might need to question me or file my name in some report somewhere.

THEN I think, what if the medics come in through the front door when injured person is closer to the back door? So then I LEAVE my meeting to tell the receptionist to be on the watch for the medics so that they get directed to the most efficient entrance. Then I go back upstairs to tell a crowding helper (i.e. people with souls who don't leave injured people despite their Outlook calendar telling them they have a meeting) that I am going to be in a meeting downstairs, "should anyone need to, you know, contact me... or whatever." Yeah. Again, hero-status all the way.

Arg! I'm soooo lame. Why didn't I stay by injured lady the whole time? Why didn't I try harder to calm her down before her team members approached? Why am I not a certified paramedic? Lameness.

You know who you DO want first on the scene in an emergency? Ian. That dude is hard-core. I have personally seen him react in multiple emergency situations with the speed and accuracy that one can only deem almost inhuman. He's all certified-ocean-lifeguard-boat-captain-boy-scout-McGyver-smartypants. I, on the other hand, am a deer in headlights. I stop and stare and try to convince myself that the emergency situation might not really be the way I've perceived it. Ian doesn't hesitate. He's Johnny-on-the-spot and totally adept at all things first aid. (I'm pretty sure I'd try and talk someone with a broken leg into trying to rub it with chap stick if left to my own devices.)

INJURED: Help! I've fallen into a manhole!

ME: Are you sure?

INJURED: And my leg is broken!

ME: What was that? LEG? Or shleg? Hey, someone call 911 and tell them this guy broke his shleg.

INJURED: And my arm is bleeding!

ME: Uh... I'm going to toss down some Tic Tacs... hold on...

INJURED: I'm so very cold... so very... cold

ME: Um, I'm late for a meeting. Don't die, k?

###

So that, in a nutshell, is why you want to be sure we're BOTH invited to your emergency situations. I'll bring the Tic Tacs and tell people to call 911. While Ian saves you.

Flick Chick: Juno and The Bucket List

2008-01-14T19:03:00.000-08:00

Two recent theater visits have enabled another multi-subject Chick Flick entry: Juno and The Bucket List.

I think the most appropriate word I can think of to describe Juno is quirky. It's just... offbeat. I really liked it, although I'm sticking with my rating of Decent. It didn't totally wow me, but I did laugh so hard I almost choked on a Mike and Ike at one point. It has a great smattering of truly hilarious moments. For an indie film, this was surprisingly star-studded and bemusing throughout; yes, a bit contrived in places, but overall a terrific reason to eat movie popcorn and partake of the blessed Ian-patented Theater Mix of 3/4 diet coke, 1/4 cherry coke.

This is definitely a movie for people still in touch with the teenagers of today, however. Be warned that the tempo of the dialogue and vernacular in general takes some getting used to, and may be more like a foreign language in places if you're not currently familiar with anyone in high school. The best thing about Juno is the performance by leading lady Ellen Page. She truly shines. Her portrayal is real, honest and smart. The relationship between her and her crush and also the prospective adoptive father Jason Bateman are not entirely believable--which I think is the main reason I hold back on my coveted (read: not coveted) Woo-hoo! rating-- but the performances, and relationships, kept me intrigued to say the least. I also liked the newer take on the subject matter of teen pregnancy. And the soundtrack was very cool. All in all this movie is quirky, witty, offbeat... and totally decent. And, since there's Oscar buzz, worth the trek to the video store at least.

We saw The Bucket List this weekend. I give it a Meh. Like so many Hollywood comedies fall victim, the funniest scenes are already in the previews, and that expected heart-wrenching emotional crescendo? Meh. I was waiting throughout the movie for that lump-in-my-throat moment that should be a given with two old men living out their final days in glory. But no, never happened. It's the same old stop-and-smell-the-roses meets don't-forget-to-say-I-love-you cliche after cliche. Plus,it's generally slow-paced, which had me checking the time during the film... Never a good sign since I'm pretty sure given the right circumstances (i.e. I didn't have to work for a living and movie popcorn suddenly became as healthy as broccoli) I could live in a theater forever. And while both actors are talented, their characters really aren't anything original. I was waiting for those moments where you think, "This is why Jack/Morgan is perfect for this..." and again, never happened. So much of this movie was simply generic and formulaic, it was hard to get past the resentment of knowing exactly what was going to happen (and that I spent my precious dolla-dolla bills, yo, to see it).

My favorite character was the assistant played by Sean Hayes, formerly Jack on the sitcom Will&Grace. His scenes were the best, and he added a nice respite from the somewhat tiring drawl of the two main players. There was one classic line, however, which I have quoted at least twice since viewing on Saturday, and will probably quote forever more, and for that, and that alone, will this movie be memorable.

POW: America's Test Kitchen

2008-01-12T19:03:00.000-08:00

I heart my America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook.

Best. Cookbook. Ever. If you have the chance to peruse its pages at a book store near you, I highly recommend it. I got the giant extreme mega hard cover binder version. (CON: It's huge; and you have to put the binder tabs in the right section yourself. PRO: Carrying it around your kitchen doubles as your cardio.)

If you're like me, you'll get sucked in and suddenly realize you're reading it like a novel and admit to yourself that you're going to have to purchase the dang thing. Something about the fact that all the recipes contained in it were tested for optimal deliciousness just sets my mind at ease. And sprinkled throughout are the little product recommendations (a plastic spatula, or a rubber one? which is better? they'll tell you!) and friendly tips for people who might not have gone to culinary school (blanch oven fries first for optimum crispy outsides and creamy insides-- it removes the starch.) Who knew?! America's Test Kitchen, that's who.

POW: Double Rainbow, Double Delicious

2008-01-09T20:06:00.000-08:00

This week's Product of the Week recommendation also hails from Trader Joe's, apparently the source of all of my new favorite things.
Double Rainbow brand ice cream is nothing fancy on the outside, but the 250-calories per (minuscule) serving are a clue about the fanciness on the inside. And let me just tell you-- the rich creaminess of Double Rainbow is simply double sin. We were introduced to the deliciousness via the blueberry flavor. "Blueberry?!" you scoff. Yes, it's true. I was skeptical, too. But it was a blueberry dream... Fresh, creamy, and not synthetic or syrupy-sweet at all. But perhaps you are a purist. So, the french vanilla? Hands-down the best I've tried. It totally shames the somewhat chemical taste of normal store brands and there's nary an alcoholic aftertaste like one experiences with the spendier brands like Haagen Dazs. It's just the perfect, creamy vanilla.
Tonight we tried the Double Rainbow Perfectly Pumpkin (since it's seasonal and one must not be left yearning for pumpkin in March when it's all gone, of course. We've got to get our fill now, people. Act fast!) Anyway, the Perfectly Pumpkin was surprisingly bold and spicy in comparison with the more subtle flavors we've tried thus far, but it was really tasty all the same. Ian mixed his with the vanilla and some milk to make a little shake it was creamy, delicately pumpkin, silky perfection. I tried my pumpkin ice cream straight up and it too was delicioso, but I could only eat about two bites because this stuff is wickedly rich. So, back in the freezer it went after just two spoonfuls, practically a serving, it seems. (Yes, I generally eat my ice cream straight out of the carton. Some people call it uncouth. I call it eco-friendly. And I don't have time for the whole scoop-into-bowl middleman mumbo jumbo. I'm a busy lady.)
So, once again, I admonish you to your nearest TJ's for the taste of some Double Rainbow delights. I have not tried the chocolate or coffee flavors, but I'd be interested in your take on them (or any other flavors you may come across.)
PPS- Speaking of cold things... It's currently 56 degrees inside my apartment. Awesome. A family room that doubles as a meat locker-- tre chic. A major benni to living in CA is that it's not that much colder outside my apartment at the moment. It's the middle of January and outside temps are still in the 50s. That's pretty sweet; however, it seems this means buildings here can exist with exactly zero insulation and single pane windows thinner than picture frame glass. So, here we sit, cranking the heat in every room, trying to get the INside warmer than the OUTside... because west coast or no, I'm pretty sure that's how it's supposed to work. Otherwise it's just... well, camping with better furniture. Anyway, so in about two hours, if we're lucky, it will crack 70 in here. The heat just slips right out... so sad... Good thing I save all that energy on not using ice cream bowls.

Flick Chick

2007-12-27T09:13:00.000-08:00

Ah, the holidays. Family, friends, food, presents, trees, luggage, air mattresses, car trips, after-Christmas sales, pets, video game marathons... and ample time to see movies. This Flick Chick entry covers two recent viewings, and one not-so-recent viewing: I Am Legend, The Golden Compass, and Lars and the Real Girl.

I Am Legend, starring one nee west-Philadelphia born and raised Fresh Prince: Will Smith. I give this flick a Meh on the scientific rating scale of Boo, Meh, Decent, and Woohoo! Here's the thing: this is not "Urban Castaway." I thought it was, and let me just tell you, going into this movie with high expectations is unwise. Go into this movie with "monster/zombie movie" expectations and you'll probably enjoy it a lot more than I did. The movie takes place in post-Armageddon-ish NYC where Will Smith is a lone scientist survivor of an outbreak of a mutated virus that has turned humans into cannibalistic zombie monters. This movie has its fair share of bumps in the night that caused me to jump and such intense scenes that I was forced to watch through fingers and attached to Ian's arm at times. So, as far as zombie movies go, this one is pretty darn scary; but the zombie monsters themselves are so CGI, they're not even believable as former humans. And, ps, totally designed by a man, because the female zombies, although running around naked and deformed for supposedly 4 years, still have perfect C-cups, bouncy and perky. Riiight. Smith's performance doesn't disappoint, but it's nothing to write home about. So I won't.

The next film we saw during our winter holiday break was The Golden Compass. Now, there were all kinds of mass e-mails swirling about the interweb calling this movie everything from "of atheist sentiment" to "this movie will brainwash your kids into satanic worshippers." Methinks most of these e-mails were probably clever marketing ploys to peak interest in a movie that was easy to write off as "Narnia-with-different-kids." It worked for me. I was curious enough to give it a shot when buttered popcorn was on the agenda. The movie was Decent. And I did not find it the atheist anthem some feared it to be. Granted, this was just the first in a series, and I haven't read the books, but from this movie alone, one has to work to see any kind of atheist symbolism. The movie surrounds Lyra, a little girl who lives in a world controlled by the Magisterium, an organization seeking to take away free will and torturing children on the side in their experimental efforts. Could the Magisterium be a symbol for organized religion? Sure. But, really, it-- and it's representative Nicole Kidman-- are just the standard children's movie villains more symbolic of evil in the good vs. evil plight than anything else. Performances in this movie are quite good. And the effects are stunning. The battle scenes are too graphic for little ones, however. The movie makes no attempt at an ending since sequels are expected-- annoying-- but, on the whole, an entertaining jaunt through a fantastic world of mystery and magic.

A movie I saw a while ago but haven't had a chance to blog about is Lars and the Real Girl. This movie gets a resounding Woo-hoo! Loved it, loved it, loved it. The story surrounds Lars (Ryan Gosling), a lonely man struggling with a delusional disorder that he and his family and townspeople all have to try and understand before he can get well. The writing is sublime, the psychiatrist (Patricia Clarkson) character is brilliant, and this heartwarming movie tackles dark themes such as mental illness and death with humor and realism. It's just a quiet little film that matches the quiet little town in which our hero, the flawed Lars, takes his journey.

Oven Luvin'

2007-12-19T22:54:00.000-08:00

Things my real* size oven, my kitchenaid mixer, and about 9 million sticks of butter and I created this week:

4 dozen sugar cookies with three different colors of vanilla butter cream frosting
3 dozen standard chocolate cupcakes with Joe-Joe (see post below) butter cream frosting
2 dozen mini cupcakes with coconut butter cream frosting
1.8 dozen (I know that's not a real number, but we had some casualties-- I'm pretty sure I was halfway to creating a WMD with some of my caramel experiments) caramel-dipped pretzel rods rolled in nuts and drizzled with chocolate

... and a partridge in a pear tree...

Aaanyway, it was a big baking week. And I am not going to fess up to how much of the above I actually ended up consuming myself. But it was a little scary how easily those "oops-broken" pretzel rods just flew into my mouth. My favorite part is the frosting making because as I pour obscene amounts of powdered sugar into the mixer bowl full of butter these little puffs of it shoot out like tiny white fireworks and the whole kitchen (and Steve, my plant in the corner) ends up covered in this thin layer of kamikaze powdered sugar dust. It's awesome.

Tomorrow I will make cupcakes again for Friday's holiday party at work... saving some, of course, for the visiting family who I'm slowly converting to the joys of cupcake addiction. Then the oven will get a little rest. And the power bill will, too, I hope.

*as opposed to my New York-size oven, which was just a microwave with an ego, really

POW: Joe Joe's

2007-12-15T12:09:00.001-08:00

There are many things to love about Trader Joe's, not the least among them is this week's Product of the Week selection: Candy Cane Joe-Joe's.
I'm not a huge peppermint fan, nor am I a huge Oreo(R) fan, so my hopes were not high the night Ian chose this little box of cookies from amongst the shelves at our local TJ. But, oh, what joy did mine taste buds behold when these little puppies were opened. They're perfect. Slightly fluffier cream than a traditional Oreo(R), with peppermint mixed into their creamy centers... Just the tiniest shavings of candy cane to give these crisp chocolate cookies their festive punch. And, of course, as I do with all delectable delights of the dessert family, I immediately thought: How can I incorporate these into a cupcake? Why, in the frosting, of course! So Joe-Joe's begat the Alpine Cupcake: peppermint cookie butter cream in rocky peaks atop a dark chocolate cake. They were a huge hit at home (read: with Ian) and abroad (read: at work.)
And now, as only delectable delights of the dessert family can muse, an ode to the Joe-Joe:
Seasonal treats aplenty, but I must recommend
Get to a TJ before season's end
Amidst the buying of cozy gifties and socks
Go to the store and pick up a box
For forlorn will you be, everyone knows
Should you not make haste to taste
Some Candy Cane Joe-Joe's

Supreme Badness

2007-12-03T21:39:00.000-08:00

A while ago I blogged about Ian's habit of singing nonsense songs around the house. Tonight, as he was cooking dinner and I was computering just a room away, this little ditty was given to the world, in full operatic voice:

My, oh my, where am I? Where am Ah-yeeeee?
Tootie tee toodie too, Cody poo
My diddly doo, Cody poo

(And immediately transitioned into the theme from the cartoon "Gummy Bears," still operatic style, of course):

Candy Bars!
I ate a mini candy bar
It makes me sing today
Oh you are a candy bar!

La la la la la doo.
Onion Rings!

They are so good to me
I like to eat my onion rings
Uuuuhhhhn yuuuuun!

Classic.

*****

So then later, as I was finishing this post, our convo went like this:

Me: I need a picture of you for this post.

Ian: Use the one of me doing a wheelie on that 4-wheeler.

Me: Um, that doesn't really fit the theme here.

Ian: Doesn't matter. It illustrates my supreme badness... you can quote me on that.

FIVE...

2007-12-02T16:06:00.000-08:00

…words I prefer to always abbreviate in convo:

1. Convo (conversation)
2. Totes (totally)
3. Sitch (situation)
4. Tbell (Taco Bell)
5. Redonk (rediculous)

And you?

Flick Chick: August Rush

2007-11-30T09:21:00.000-08:00

How can a film starring the talented Terrence Howard and Keri Russell be anything but amazing? I'll tell you how: bad editing, bad writing.
On my very scientific Flick Chick official rating scale (Boo, Meh, Decent, and Woo-Hoo!) I give August Rush a Boo. I was going to go with Meh because the musical score is actually pretty nice (and it takes place in NYC which is always a pleasant stroll down memory lane,) but the more I thought about my $6.95 and two hours of a Saturday afternoon I will never get back, the more I think this movie really does deserve that cursed Boo.
The story falls apart about 15 minutes into the film, the characters have zero depth, and the most talented actor of all (Mr. Howard) completely disappears for 80% of the movie. The littlest star, Freddie Highmore, is cute; I'll give him that. But since he spends most of his scenes in wide-eyed innocent stare-off-into-space closeups and clueless overacting during his musical scenes (with that blasted Iron Chef 360-degree spinning camera maneuver) there's not much more to like. He plays a musical prodigy orphan whose parents are star-crossed lovers with musical talent. Spoiler alert: Little "August" thinks if he can play his music his parents will hear him, and find each other and then find him. And guess what, he does and they do! Neat and tidy. The end.
The story is sappy-- soggy sappy. And it needed a million completely unlikely and unbelievable coincidences and happenstance to make any sense at all. It's like the movie couldn't decide if it wanted to give itself over to fantasy and complete romanticism or stay grounded in real life. So what you end up with are some scenes in cliche-fantasy-world and others that aren't. It just didn't make sense.
However, I got to see the movie with my mom who was visiting from Oregon, so that was a plus. It seems the best claim this movie can make, as far as I'm concerned, is that it sat me next to a nice person for two hours. Not all was lost.

Thanks Giving

2007-11-23T23:45:00.000-08:00

I am ever so grateful for*: my wonderful husband who got up at the crack of dawn today to procure a gift at door-buster savings, visiting family, good friends, turkey cooked upside down so that the white meat breast stays uber moist and juicy, mashed potatoes with almost as much butter and sour cream as actual potatoes, killer yams, baked brie with pears, green bean casserole made with fresh green beans, the saintly cashier at Costco on the day before Thanksgiving-- where I got the last available parking spot exactly 900 miles from the front door and the last cart with the totally wonky wheel and where 8 billion other people were waiting in line each with 6 carts and 5 screaming children-- who opened her line just as I got to the checkout area, homemade rolls, good health, cooked carrots with brown sugar glaze, gravy, being around people who understand the importance of good gravy, baked ham, pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, homemade pumpkin pie, Costco pumpkin pie for later, ear plugs, cozy sweaters and slippers, homemade cranberry cheesecake, Trivial Pursuit, people who rock at Trivial Pursuit being on my team (the only mammal to have four knees is the elephant), dominoes, in-laws, waterproof tablecloths, egg nog, Cody snuggling on everyone's laps so no one feels left out, being able to go to the beach the day after Thanksgiving because it's still 73 degrees and sunny, real whipped cream, sparkling apple cider, not having to go to work for four days, spare bedrooms, Ian's 92-year-old-grandma who cracked the funniest joke during Thanksgiving dinner, wassail, my red Kitchenaid mixer, scones, eggs Benedict, hot chocolate, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, sisters, brothers, parents, baby relatives, Tylenol, 2-day sales, fall bouquets, Christmas music, my dishwasher, and leftovers.

*not an exhaustive list

FIVE...

2007-11-18T17:39:00.000-08:00

…things that make me suspicious
1. Adults who still refuse to eat vegetables
2. A certain male friend always claiming he loves to shop for clothes (as he’s wearing a tank top and tapered leg acid wash jeans)
3. The cobwebs behind my file cabinet at work
4. Taco Bell meat
5. Comb overs

And you?

I Heart Sugar Rush

2007-11-13T21:01:00.000-08:00

OK, here's me: watching The Biggest Loser (TBL) on TV, in my sweatpants and awesomely cozy Kirkland brand Ugs, and eating... wait for it... wait for it... Pixy Stix.
That's right, those paper tubes of colored sugar you probably haven't had since junior high. They are in the giant bowl of yet uneaten Halloween candy.
Commercial break on TBL. I get up to throw away Pixy wrappers. There are five. Somehow in less than 30 minutes, unbeknownst to my own consciousness--even while watching a show about people losing weight-- I consumed like 70,000 calories in dyed sugar. This rivals the time I picked out all the cookie dough from a pint of cookie dough ice cream while also watching an episode of TBL.
Something about this show puts me in an eating trance, apparently. I think it's a conspiracy. I think the show is sending out subliminal "eat junk food" messages so that the viewing public will gain weight; ergo, they'll need to go on the show themselves, or buy all the gear and work out videos from the TBL franchise at the very least. I'm on to you, TBL. I intend to write a strongly worded letter or something. After I finish this mini Snickers.

PS- Did you ever notice orange pixy stix taste just like Tang? I think it might actually be the same stuff. No wonder astronauts bounce off the walls.

PPS- Can we talk about the fact that you can buy this T-shirt online?

I heart that they spelled out heart instead of using an actual heart.There are a few color choices; this one is called, seriously, "Celestial White."
I heart that, too.

The Windy City

2007-11-11T18:03:00.000-08:00

I'm back! Just landed a few hours ago from seven days in Chicago for a national conference at which my company was an exhibitor. Long days, late nights, lots of work.There wasn't much time for sightseeing I'm afraid, but we did make it out to see the bean and the other art at Millennium Park. I drove by Sears Tower a few times, and the lake of course, and Buckingham Fountain-- which I know nothing about and was dry as a bone, but cool all the same. And I now know McCormick Place like the back of my hand... well, at least 2 floors of the east building. That's where our booth was.
We stayed at the Palmer House Hilton, which is the oldest continuously-operating hotel in North America, or so it claims. Mr. Palmer apparently gave it to his wife, Bertha (I wonder if that name will ever become trendy again... methinks it unfortunate nonetheless. For me it will always conjure up images of cows and Texan truck drivers) as a wedding gift or something. It was a beautiful old hotel and right in the "loop" so just a stone's throw from the theater district (Wicked- sold out; Jersey Boys- sold out... sad for me and my hopes of seeing a show. Oh well, H&M was within walking distance too and that was plenty of entertainment on my one free afternoon) and from Michigan Ave.
The hotel also claims to be the inventor of the brownie. I guess when you're around for over a hundred years you can claim to have invented pretty much anything obscure enough that people won't know if it's true because it probably wasn't documented anywhere at the time. (Note to self: on 100th birthday be sure to make wildly inaccurate claim to have invented something-- perhaps mineral makeup or those little half-socks we all wear with flats.) The highlight for me was the food, of course. (Seriously, I'm pretty sure my headstone will simply say "Here lies Laurel Johnston, a very good eater.")
We started out the trip with Chicago-style deep-dish pizza (yummers-- but I still vote for NY pizza as the penultimate slice) and ventured throughout the week to other recommended places such as Vermilion, an Indian-Latin fusion restaurant where the menu took 30 minutes to explain and all the waiters had "assistants." My two favorite places, however, were Tavern at the Park (a dessert of white chocolate fondue with chunks of Oreos and fruit, rice crispy treats, pretzels, etc. for dipping? heaven) and an outskirts-of-the-city chop house where I met up with some of relatives who live in the Chicagoland area on my last night in town. Delicious!
Chicago was a great town! Hope to go back soon-- perhaps next summer for a Cubs game or something.
Next year's big conference will be in Dallas. Yee-haw! I look forward to the drawl, the "Don't Mess With Texas" t-shirt I intend to buy and possibly actually meeting someone named Bertha.

Flick Chick: Dan in Real Life

2007-10-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

We saw Dan in Real Life last night in our own real life. I laughed, I cried, I fell more in love with Steve Carell as a major player in Hollywood.

The beauty of Dan in Real Life is in the details-- the small quirks and flaws that make it real and funny and human. It's smart, and charming, and it doesn't take itself too seriously or try too hard for the magic moments. But the magic is there; this movie just entertains effortlessly. Mr. Carell is Dan, the timid widower and advice columnist. Juliette Binoche (of Chocolat) is the woman who captures Dan's heart. And then there is The Family-- admittedly the source of most of the movie's best moments. ("This corn is like an angel.") Ian loved it too, proving it's not just sentimental goo for the ladies. I give it a coveted Flick Chick rating of WOO-HOO!

This is a great movie on par with other family-driven romcom dramedies, such as The Family Stone, Something's Gotta Give, Little Miss Sunshine and the like. It's for anyone with a family, anyone who can appreciate the unsung drama that comes standard with teenagers, with love, with work... with real life.

POW: Sittin Pretty

2007-10-23T16:05:00.000-07:00

Target has their leather chairs on sale this week. I've giving them my Product of the Week selection. I've been stalking chairs all over the tri-city area and on the interweb for months now trying to find a nice pair for our little reading nook area (read: the weird top of the L-shaped living room that is too small for a couch.) And, ps, can I just say that I was shocked at how expensive chairs are?
Perhaps by virtue of living in a tiny apartment in Japan and then an only slightly larger tiny apartment in NY, we've never found ourselves in need of chairs beyond the normal dining and office types. But now we've graduated to sunny CA living where space is not as tight and closets are a-plenty*, thus leaving corners that would normally need to contain some kind of fancy streamlined storage unit (read: a portable heater with stacks of papers/clothes/boxes precariously balanced on it when not in use) bare and available for a comfy chair and perhaps a nice plant. And so began the hunt. It's been a long hunt because it turns out it's hard to find a chair that isn't your grandparents' La-Z-Boy or part of the college dorm greatest hits parade for less than several hundred bucks.
This brings me to the chair pictured above. We purchased it yesterday from the close-by Seaside Target* and now it sits in a very sunny* area of our L-shaped (L as in the letter, not as in Laurel. It's not a Laurel-shaped room. A room that was me-shaped would be tall and monkey-armed... difficult to decorate, indeed. But it would be full of cupcakes, so that's good. But I digress) room. Totally comfy, total bargain.
We also bought some shelves so the reading nook can now also contain not only a place to sit but also books. (I find those are important in reading nooks; without them how do you know what kind of nook you are in?)
I'd really like a cool patterned fabric chair for that area too, to break up what now may be coined as the sea of leather that is our living room. I read in a decor mag once that all rooms should have some piece or element that doesn't look anything like the rest of the room-- just to make it interesting and not matchy-matchy. If anyone knows of a good place for nicely-priced chairs, do tell. (And please no advice about Craigslist. I have a rule about used things and it is that if it is used and can, or at any point could, absorb liquid or house a nest of any kind, I don't want it.)
When the nook is more complete I will take a picture and you can say to yourself, "My, what a wonderful sunny nook that is. And look! Books! Books in the nook."
Then you'll probably laugh at yourself for sounding like Dr. Seuss.
But we'd all still be happy that I found my chairs and shelves and other accoutrement that make a nook a nook in one L-shaped room, for one Laurel-shaped me.

*Reason why you should move to Monterey.