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Showing posts with label Shout-outs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shout-outs. Show all posts
February 23, 2011
Thanks, Commando!
July 29, 2010
Thanks Mom!
A knock at my door last week startled the crap out of me. Who could it be?
"UPS delivery."
Huh? I haven't ordered anything...
But check this out. My adorable mom, home shopping addict she is, had sent me a lil som' som' -- stackable green boxes. Sweet!
I'm a sucker for these green boxes. A lot of that As Seen On TV crap is, well... you know... crap. But these actually do what they promise: keep food fresher longer. Especially awesome since I'm a farmer's market shopper. Perfectly ripe peaches will go bad on the counter in a couple of days. In a green box, they've stayed good up to two weeks!
So thanks mom. Even though you turned me into an info-mercial. Teehee.
"UPS delivery."
Huh? I haven't ordered anything...
But check this out. My adorable mom, home shopping addict she is, had sent me a lil som' som' -- stackable green boxes. Sweet!
Bless her!
I'm a sucker for these green boxes. A lot of that As Seen On TV crap is, well... you know... crap. But these actually do what they promise: keep food fresher longer. Especially awesome since I'm a farmer's market shopper. Perfectly ripe peaches will go bad on the counter in a couple of days. In a green box, they've stayed good up to two weeks!
So thanks mom. Even though you turned me into an info-mercial. Teehee.
June 28, 2010
The straight dirt
First I wanted to post this picture of my farmer's market haul from Saturday. It is so nice to have fresh fruits and veggies again!
But I really opened this page today to respond to Sarah's question on her blog: How do you stay zen about cleaning your house?
As I said in her comments, I don't recommend this strategy. I got over my cleaning crazy when my back went out in 2004. Four paragraphs later, I decided it was more polite to move my raving here.
My junior year of college I had the dubious honor of residing in the party house. Are you picturing stacks of beer cans, sticky floors, and all around chaos? Not my pad. For I had the cleanest party house in history. Every day when I came home from class I fastidiously erased all evidence of the previous night's festivities. You could trash the place, but it never stayed trashy.
Compare that to now. I can't turn around without seeing dust or clutter. My bathtub is long overdue for a scrubbing. My newly longer hair is freaking EVERYWHERE. Dishes routinely sit in the sink...
What changed? Well like I said I hurt my back. For about six months I could barely walk to the bathroom, let alone get on bended knee and scrub it til it gleamed. And you know what? My friends didn't quit coming over, my husband didn't contract a horrific disease... Basically no dire consequences came to pass at all.
In the meantime I realized there were other things I'd rather be doing. Spending time with my husband. Writing my thesis. Talking with my family on the phone. Screwing around on the internet.
I don't know if I could have gone cold turkey. But now it's almost as if I don't recognize that person. I try not to let my place get outright disgusting. I tend to pick one gross spot every day and sort that out. Today, for instance, I desperately need to sweep my hairballs up from the bathroom floor. If it's a good back day, I might even mop in there.
Oh, there's a load of other stuff that needs doing. Organize a growing stack of work-related papers. Run the vacuum in our bedroom. Dust the entertainment center. Sweep and mop the kitchen. Will I accomplish any of that? Unlikely. Because, nowadays, even one load of dishes is enough to put me on an ice pack for half an hour.
Don't get me wrong. I'm still funny about some things. A spotless kitchen counter, because food-borne illness still freaks me the hell out. Hospital corners, because wrinkly sheets drive me batty when I try to sleep. Here's the thing about that though. I never make the bed until right before I get in it. I leave it wrecked all through the day. Ha!
I seem to have some feelings about this, no? And you can see why I decided it was better I should work them out here, and not take over an innocent comment stream. Come to think of it, I bet I could fill a whole 'nother post ranting about how patriarchy hijackedthe hygiene hypothesis germ theory* to keep women down and domesticated.
Sarah... I hope this is helpful. And I wish you the best in beating the Proctor and Gamble conspiracy.
*Edited 12:47 p.m.: I realized in the shower that I had utterly misused "hygiene hypothesis." I was thinking about germ theory, which more or less went, hey doctors, if you wash your hands in between patients, you won't spread so many of their cooties.
The hygiene hypothesis says rather the opposite: that in Western societies, we're so darn clean we fail to prime our children's immune systems. It's meant to explain the prevalence of asthma and allergies in developed countries, when they're virtually unheard of elsewhere.
Oh, shower. How many "ah-ha" moments do I owe to your existence?
And homemade bread, mmmm...
But I really opened this page today to respond to Sarah's question on her blog: How do you stay zen about cleaning your house?
As I said in her comments, I don't recommend this strategy. I got over my cleaning crazy when my back went out in 2004. Four paragraphs later, I decided it was more polite to move my raving here.
My junior year of college I had the dubious honor of residing in the party house. Are you picturing stacks of beer cans, sticky floors, and all around chaos? Not my pad. For I had the cleanest party house in history. Every day when I came home from class I fastidiously erased all evidence of the previous night's festivities. You could trash the place, but it never stayed trashy.
Compare that to now. I can't turn around without seeing dust or clutter. My bathtub is long overdue for a scrubbing. My newly longer hair is freaking EVERYWHERE. Dishes routinely sit in the sink...
What changed? Well like I said I hurt my back. For about six months I could barely walk to the bathroom, let alone get on bended knee and scrub it til it gleamed. And you know what? My friends didn't quit coming over, my husband didn't contract a horrific disease... Basically no dire consequences came to pass at all.
In the meantime I realized there were other things I'd rather be doing. Spending time with my husband. Writing my thesis. Talking with my family on the phone. Screwing around on the internet.
I don't know if I could have gone cold turkey. But now it's almost as if I don't recognize that person. I try not to let my place get outright disgusting. I tend to pick one gross spot every day and sort that out. Today, for instance, I desperately need to sweep my hairballs up from the bathroom floor. If it's a good back day, I might even mop in there.
Oh, there's a load of other stuff that needs doing. Organize a growing stack of work-related papers. Run the vacuum in our bedroom. Dust the entertainment center. Sweep and mop the kitchen. Will I accomplish any of that? Unlikely. Because, nowadays, even one load of dishes is enough to put me on an ice pack for half an hour.
Don't get me wrong. I'm still funny about some things. A spotless kitchen counter, because food-borne illness still freaks me the hell out. Hospital corners, because wrinkly sheets drive me batty when I try to sleep. Here's the thing about that though. I never make the bed until right before I get in it. I leave it wrecked all through the day. Ha!
I seem to have some feelings about this, no? And you can see why I decided it was better I should work them out here, and not take over an innocent comment stream. Come to think of it, I bet I could fill a whole 'nother post ranting about how patriarchy hijacked
Sarah... I hope this is helpful. And I wish you the best in beating the Proctor and Gamble conspiracy.
*Edited 12:47 p.m.: I realized in the shower that I had utterly misused "hygiene hypothesis." I was thinking about germ theory, which more or less went, hey doctors, if you wash your hands in between patients, you won't spread so many of their cooties.
The hygiene hypothesis says rather the opposite: that in Western societies, we're so darn clean we fail to prime our children's immune systems. It's meant to explain the prevalence of asthma and allergies in developed countries, when they're virtually unheard of elsewhere.
Oh, shower. How many "ah-ha" moments do I owe to your existence?
June 24, 2010
I love these guys...
First of all, they crack me up. And they seem to share a good chunk of my personal food philosophy. Need recipes? Laughs? Inspiration? Check them out...
In this post, Mark talks about how to distinguish between processed foods (like proper cheese or cold-pressed olive oil) and "processed foods" (like cheese food product and refined olive oil). The difference boils down to the ingredients and the -- ahem -- process, used to create a packaged item.
As we keep saying, "convenience shouldn't be discounted, just examined."They advocate careful label reading -- basically comparing an item's ingredients to what a person would use making it at home. Simple, right? And it helps so much in the kitchen. It's much harder to screw up a dish if you start out with quality ingredients. Nature makes delicious things; it's the job of the cook to get out of the way.
And while we're on it, the olive oil in that [pizza] crust is processed. No doubt. The olives are pressed. But Bruce and I use only "first cold-pressed olive oil." If you use olive oil from "refined olives," it means the manufacturer used chemical solvents to extract the oil from inferior or unripe olives. What was merely processed food suddenly became "processed food." (If that makes any sense.)
The whole discussion makes me think of something my cousin Wannie once told me: "I got to reading about all those preservatives, and I thought, it's like they're trying to embalm me before I die." Both hilarious and on point.
Red beans and rice tonight, which I haven't made in ages. I'll let y'all know how it turns out...
May 11, 2010
When is a food blog not a food blog?
When the food blogger can't think of anything yummy to say. Sigh...
I'm pulling a meme off my other blog hangout, All Kinds of Pretty. Shout-out to PrettyStephenie for getting it started.
1. When did you start wearing makeup?
Um, yeah... I totally don't remember. Middle school? If I had to guess? And, I kinda struggled. My mom taught me application skillz, which are awesome. But, I also kinda looked like my dad, so her colors weren't always right for me. (I'm looking at you, frosty blue eye shadow.) Granted, I only realized this years later, which explains some very silly pictures from junior high.
2. Since that time, have you always worn it?
Nope. Following a hair metal phase featuring heavy, Poison-esque eye shadow, I did the makeup-free grunge thing. In college (and grad school), I found I preferred an extra 10 minutes of sleep to dolling it up. Then I was a telecommuter for about 3 years. And in those days, it was a miracle if I put on pants, let alone mascara.
3. If you could only wear one item of makeup, what would it be?
Mineral veil. I got a face oilier than Texas over here, which means I forever have to minimize pores, cover zits, and battle shine. This stuff, paired with an oil-free tinted moisturizer, gets the job done in about 5 seconds.
4. What is your favorite makeup “trick”?
Using green to cancel red. For me, this typically means a green concealer to hide blemishes, but it's also great for a sunburnt nose. Got inappropriately rosy cheeks? Mix a touch of matte green eye shadow with loose powder. Perfect blush!
5. How often do you wear makeup?
No more than a couple of times a week these days, which if you read above, is a lot for me! If I'm going out with my husband, or taking pictures for this here blog then yes. Otherwise, generally no.
6. Do you let others see you without makeup?
Yep, as long as they don't have a camera. I know that sounds incredibly vain! I think I look washed out and haggard in pictures when I'm not made up. I don't feel that way in real life. Weird, huh?
7. Do you ever find yourself critiquing other women’s makeup practices? “She would look so much better with a little mascara and lipstick.” Or even, “She would so much prettier without all that gunk all over her eyes!!!”
You know? I don't really think so. At least, I can't remember the last time I had a thought like that. I guess if it were totally off the wall I would notice.
8. Would you go a week without makeup – not a speck, no matter where you were going?
Not counting the tinted moisturizer, I've been known to go months.
9. Who or what most influenced your makeup “identity”?
Theatre. No joke. I met a woman in a community play who could have been my long lost aunt. I watched her put on her stage colors, and copied her shamelessly. The show was Camelot, so the idea was to define our features without looking "made up." I still abide by that philosophy.
My makeup identity goes like this: I'm not looking for people to think of me, "her eye makeup looks beautiful." I'm going for, "she has beautiful eyes."
10. Do you think your makeup makes you “prettier”?
Prettier? No. But surely more socially acceptable.
Updated to add: I'd love to hear other women's answers! Feel free to respond in the comments, or if you have a blog, leave us a link!
I'm pulling a meme off my other blog hangout, All Kinds of Pretty. Shout-out to PrettyStephenie for getting it started.
Tanya took this picture of me, sans makeup, last summer. Shine on lady. Shine. On.
1. When did you start wearing makeup?
Um, yeah... I totally don't remember. Middle school? If I had to guess? And, I kinda struggled. My mom taught me application skillz, which are awesome. But, I also kinda looked like my dad, so her colors weren't always right for me. (I'm looking at you, frosty blue eye shadow.) Granted, I only realized this years later, which explains some very silly pictures from junior high.
2. Since that time, have you always worn it?Nope. Following a hair metal phase featuring heavy, Poison-esque eye shadow, I did the makeup-free grunge thing. In college (and grad school), I found I preferred an extra 10 minutes of sleep to dolling it up. Then I was a telecommuter for about 3 years. And in those days, it was a miracle if I put on pants, let alone mascara.
3. If you could only wear one item of makeup, what would it be?
Mineral veil. I got a face oilier than Texas over here, which means I forever have to minimize pores, cover zits, and battle shine. This stuff, paired with an oil-free tinted moisturizer, gets the job done in about 5 seconds.
4. What is your favorite makeup “trick”?
5. How often do you wear makeup?
No more than a couple of times a week these days, which if you read above, is a lot for me! If I'm going out with my husband, or taking pictures for this here blog then yes. Otherwise, generally no.
6. Do you let others see you without makeup?
Yep, as long as they don't have a camera. I know that sounds incredibly vain! I think I look washed out and haggard in pictures when I'm not made up. I don't feel that way in real life. Weird, huh?
7. Do you ever find yourself critiquing other women’s makeup practices? “She would look so much better with a little mascara and lipstick.” Or even, “She would so much prettier without all that gunk all over her eyes!!!”
You know? I don't really think so. At least, I can't remember the last time I had a thought like that. I guess if it were totally off the wall I would notice.
8. Would you go a week without makeup – not a speck, no matter where you were going?
Not counting the tinted moisturizer, I've been known to go months.
9. Who or what most influenced your makeup “identity”?
Theatre. No joke. I met a woman in a community play who could have been my long lost aunt. I watched her put on her stage colors, and copied her shamelessly. The show was Camelot, so the idea was to define our features without looking "made up." I still abide by that philosophy.
My makeup identity goes like this: I'm not looking for people to think of me, "her eye makeup looks beautiful." I'm going for, "she has beautiful eyes."
10. Do you think your makeup makes you “prettier”?
Prettier? No. But surely more socially acceptable.
Updated to add: I'd love to hear other women's answers! Feel free to respond in the comments, or if you have a blog, leave us a link!
March 27, 2010
Spoiled. Rotten.
Not food, mercifully! Just lil ol me. For my sweet, thoughtful momma has hooked me up with the ultimate home-cooking luxury...
I have wanted one of these badboys for probably 15 years. It's something I doubt I would ever have bought for myself. Courtney was writing about hers not long before Christmas, and I guess I got to raving about it when I was home for the holidays.
I'd totally forgotten that conversation until my phone rang, about midnight last Sunday. I ran to grab it, because shit man. A call at that hour usually means somebody's either hurt or needs bail money. Not this time!
So! Let the baking commence! I am celebrating with a project right out of the owner's manual: Quick Yellow Cake.
When Doug got home, he got to use it too, for his legendary homemade frosting. The recipe comes from the Hershey's cocoa box:
Also? I had to run out and buy vanilla ice cream. I mean, obviously.
At risk of gushing past the point of appropriateness, I wanted to throw this in too. See, when the UPS guy delivered the mixer, he brought two boxes to the door. I assumed the smaller one was the mixer's cover. Oh but no!
I've also never had a proper tea kettle before. Since my college days in the dorms, I've used a Pyrex measuring cup to boil my water in the microwave. I feel so fancy now!
Thank you, Mom.
Behold!
I have wanted one of these badboys for probably 15 years. It's something I doubt I would ever have bought for myself. Courtney was writing about hers not long before Christmas, and I guess I got to raving about it when I was home for the holidays.
I'd totally forgotten that conversation until my phone rang, about midnight last Sunday. I ran to grab it, because shit man. A call at that hour usually means somebody's either hurt or needs bail money. Not this time!
MOM: Honey, can you turn on QVC?I've used the phrase blown away before, but never was it more appropriate. She put the smackdown all my, "Honestly, Mom, I really don't need it," objections, even though they were true. I've gotten along a-okay all these years, but OMG I sure did want one. And now it has arrived. I feel extremely, unspeakably grateful.
ME: Uh, hang on. Doug's watching the basketball. I may have to negotiate.
MOM: Tell him Momma says this is important!
(Negotiations ensue.)
ME: Ok, I have it on... Wait... Are you kidding me...?
(Mixers gleam in the studio lights, like heaven on a counter top.)
MOM: Are those the mixers you were talking about?
ME: (dreamily) Yeah...
So! Let the baking commence! I am celebrating with a project right out of the owner's manual: Quick Yellow Cake.
I will never mess with Duncan Hines again.
When Doug got home, he got to use it too, for his legendary homemade frosting. The recipe comes from the Hershey's cocoa box:
Chocolate Buttercream Frosting
- 1 stick butter
- 2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa
- 3 cups powdered sugar
- 1/3 cup milk
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Also? I had to run out and buy vanilla ice cream. I mean, obviously.
You'd never know it's not my birthday.
At risk of gushing past the point of appropriateness, I wanted to throw this in too. See, when the UPS guy delivered the mixer, he brought two boxes to the door. I assumed the smaller one was the mixer's cover. Oh but no!
Surprise! I told you. Spoiled. Rotten.
I've also never had a proper tea kettle before. Since my college days in the dorms, I've used a Pyrex measuring cup to boil my water in the microwave. I feel so fancy now!
Thank you, Mom.
March 15, 2010
A little good karma
See that pretty lady in the middle?
That's Miss Amanda, my beloved baby sister. (The great ox on the end is my brother Jeremy. He'll get his own post someday.) I got a lot of reasons to admire my sister. Pretty. Did I mention pretty? Also super smart and pee-your-pants freakin hilarious. She's a hardworking single mom who don't take crap from anybody. I guess that's no surprise -- the bitch-force is strong in my family.
This year Amanda signed up for the American Cancer Society Relay For Life. I know!!! I am duly impressed! I realize it's not really a race, but you'd have to put a mean dog after me to keep me circling a track all night long.
However, being the dedicated slacktivist sister, the least I can do is help drum up publicity. I'm asking every reader of this post to support Amanda's Relay For Life team.
Relay For Life is a fund-raising effort for the American Cancer Society, a community-based voluntary health organization dedicated to eliminating cancer as a major health problem. The ACS pursues cancer advances through research, education, advocacy and service -- and offers cancer patients, survivors, and their families a place to turn.
Please make a gift today using this secure online form, or this handy printable form.
Amanda is also offering Relay For Life Luminaria for a suggested gift of $5. A luminaria is a paper sack, weighted with sand, containing a lighted candle. Each one bears the name of a person touched by cancer. Please contact me if you're interested in Luminaria, and I'll hook you up with the details.
Last, if you're in or near Metropolis, you can sign up to join the team. The ladies would appreciate your company and help!
Thank you everybody, for indulging me in karma-building. Now follow those links and build some for yourself.
That's Miss Amanda, my beloved baby sister. (The great ox on the end is my brother Jeremy. He'll get his own post someday.) I got a lot of reasons to admire my sister. Pretty. Did I mention pretty? Also super smart and pee-your-pants freakin hilarious. She's a hardworking single mom who don't take crap from anybody. I guess that's no surprise -- the bitch-force is strong in my family.
This year Amanda signed up for the American Cancer Society Relay For Life. I know!!! I am duly impressed! I realize it's not really a race, but you'd have to put a mean dog after me to keep me circling a track all night long.
However, being the dedicated slacktivist sister, the least I can do is help drum up publicity. I'm asking every reader of this post to support Amanda's Relay For Life team.
Please make a gift today using this secure online form, or this handy printable form.
Amanda is also offering Relay For Life Luminaria for a suggested gift of $5. A luminaria is a paper sack, weighted with sand, containing a lighted candle. Each one bears the name of a person touched by cancer. Please contact me if you're interested in Luminaria, and I'll hook you up with the details.
Image via Relay For Life
Last, if you're in or near Metropolis, you can sign up to join the team. The ladies would appreciate your company and help!
Thank you everybody, for indulging me in karma-building. Now follow those links and build some for yourself.
January 31, 2010
Shout-out: Can I be Jamie when I grow up?
I know, silly thing to say, when she's way younger than me!
Today I want to send my love and gratitude to Ms. Jamie, over at I Love My Life. Why, you ask? Well generally, just for being awesome. But specifically, for making me this sweet hat!
My girl knits, scraps, cooks, gardens, takes gorgeous pictures, and rescues kitties from evil trolls. Okay I made that last one up, but I bet she would! Jamie helped me figure out the perfect size and style, and then? Hooked. Me. Up.
With all my heart I recommend jamiesierraknits on Etsy.
Today I want to send my love and gratitude to Ms. Jamie, over at I Love My Life. Why, you ask? Well generally, just for being awesome. But specifically, for making me this sweet hat!
My dome's stayin totally warm.
My girl knits, scraps, cooks, gardens, takes gorgeous pictures, and rescues kitties from evil trolls. Okay I made that last one up, but I bet she would! Jamie helped me figure out the perfect size and style, and then? Hooked. Me. Up.
My ears? Also totally warm.
With all my heart I recommend jamiesierraknits on Etsy.
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