National Poetry Month

Can one month contain such fabulousness?

Grilled Cheese Month, National Poetry Month, the Dining with Friends Dinner, AND my birthday? ~whew~ I get exhausted just thinking about all of those fun things.

By the way, there's been an update to the Hamzilla Incident. Be sure to check it out. You never know if you might be able to help.

In addition to all of the fun and excitement of the above mentioned events, I've also had a little bit of my own personal drama to deal with these days. In the past, I've kind of shut down and stopped blogging for a while when life gets difficult. I'm not doing that this time. I, also, don't share too much deeply personal stuff. Mostly, I like to keep it random and, hopefully, interesting and not like a "Dear Diary" kind of blog.

I could procrastinate this all night but I won't. You get a two-fer this evening. Not only have I written a poem to properly acknowledge National Poetry Month, I'm also putting out* a little bit of personal info.


BOOB POEM
I live in Alabama
But I swear I’m not a rube
Yet I find it important
To write a poem to my boob.

Mammograms are quite awkward
The ultrasound showed stuff, too
A week of doctor visits
They decided what to do

My left boob has a problem
The surgeon has made a slit
He went in there to find out
What is wrong with that left tit.

I admit I’m quite nervous
Biopsies just are not fun
The waiting’s even harder
But the waiting must be done

The path lab has the sample
They will do their tissue test
Then Dr. Boob will call me
I will keep you all… abreast.


If you pray, please do. Light candles, do interpretive dance, get your mojo rising, wish on a star, stare at the lint in your navel while pondering the meaning of life and boobies, whatever. Please think positive thoughts. I hope to have results tomorrow.


*Calm down, Jeremy. It's not that kind of putting out.

It's National Grilled Cheese Month! Really!

Just in case you don't have this marked on your calendar, I feel it's my duty to let you know about this fantastic, month-long holiday. Mmmm. Cheese.

For the past couple of years, I've been doing Grilled Cheese Night with any of my family who happen to be in the area. Each year, a favorite or two from the previous year gets to make a comeback. We make several different varieties of grilled cheeses, cut them into quarters (or whatever makes sense based on the size of the bread), then eat and rate. Grilled cheese purists would be outraged at some of the additions to these sandwiches but I consider myself a pancheesual person and I accept all types and kinds of variations on the norm.

Here are the sandwiches from this Sunday:


1. Turkey and baby swiss on sourdough
2. Peanut butter, granny smith apple, and cheddar on wheat
3. Pastrami, swiss, and spicy mustard on pumpernickle
4. Prosciutto, mozzarella, parmesan, and sun-dried tomato pesto on Italian bread
5. Blue cheese, dates, and bacon on pumpernickle
6. Havarti dill on white
7. Gouda and pear on Italian
8. Butterkase on sourdough
9. Avocado, cheddar, cumin, and chipotle chili powder on corn tortilla

~erp~

Number 1 is a favorite in the Wurdibitsch house and is eaten year-round. Number 2 was a favorite from last year that came back for round two. I think the Granny Smith was too tart or I just remembered it being better. Number 3 was well-liked by everyone but made us all think of Reubens and then it was kind of sad. Number 4 was popular with half the folks and just "eh" for the rest. I think it needs a spicier meat (like pepperoni). It just seemed lacking some ooomph. Number 5 was a surprise dark horse. The blue cheese got several raised eyebrows and a couple, "I'll try it but I'm not promising anything." We thought it might be too strong a flavor for the grandgirl who was awake for the event but we were wrong. This was one of most liked sandwiches. Number 6 is like eating a soft, warm, dill pickle. Simple and delicious. Number 7 was surprisingly good, too. The pear was just firm enough to provide a little bite to the bite and the gouda (non-smoked) was perfect with it. Number 8 was boring. Butterkase is excellent by itself or melted or maybe with something else but it got lost in the crowd. Number 9 was also a nice surprise. The chipotle chili powder gave it just a little bit of a kick.

With all of that cheese, a heavy side dish would have been a disaster. I made two salads. The salad on the left is fennel, orange, and arugula with an olive oil, lemon and pepper dressing. The salad on the right is my bok choy, jicama, apple slaw. Since we had orange in the other salad, I substituted pineapple juice (and some pineapple bits) for the orange juice. I was also not that thrilled with some of my bok choy and had some romaine lettuce that needed to be used so I did half bok choy and half romaine. Tasty stuff.


Happy National Grilled Cheese Month!

Since Sunday was also my birthday, we had cheesecake, made by MrWurdi, the masterbaker, for dessert.

Hamzilla

This time of year is when folks in our area start hosting dinners called, "Dining with Friends." These dinners benefit the local AIDS Action Coalition and the Davis Clinic. For a donation, the invitees eat, drink, and make merry - all for a good cause.

My dear friend, Chef~H aka Wormy, has hosted for as long as I can remember. Although I wasn't there this year, I've heard what happened at this year's event. In addition to pig candy and other BBQ'd delights prepared by Pinky, Chef~H prepared a massive ham. Close to thirty pounds, this was an impressive piece of meat.

The ham is missing.

I modified a song from my youth to pay tribute to the missing:


HAMZILLA
With a benefit dinner and some tasty food
The thirty-pound ham roast set a good mood
Start the carving with a sharp knife
A mighty big porker gave his life
The folks started drinking and a few, they got sauced
That massive porker ended up getting lost

Oh no, they say to cook it slow, slow slow Hamzilla
Oh no, where did that big ham go, go go Hamzilla

Oh no, they say cook it slow, slow slow Hamzilla
Oh no, where did that big ham go, go go Hamzilla

History shows again and again
How liquor exposes the folly of man
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
How liquor exposes the folly of man
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
Hamzilla

Oh no, they say to cook it slow, slow slow Hamzilla
Oh no, where did that big ham go, go go Hamzilla

This verse goes again and again
The original song won’t ever end
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
Hamzilla
This verse goes again and again
But on this verse, this time, the song will end
Hamzilla
History shows again and again
Hamzilla



If you've seen the missing ham or have information as to its whereabouts, please leave a message in the comments section of this post.




***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***
A hambone was left in a unmarked cardboard box on Wormy's doorstep the other day. A note was with the bone. The note, unsigned, read, "Thanks for the ham."

What kind of sick porkalogical madman would do such a thing?

Again, if you have any information about this incident, please contact us through the comments section of this post. Remember, only you can stop pork theft.

***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***UPDATE***

Highway Treadmill Guy

I mentioned Highway Treadmill Guy a while back.

I was driving to work one morning when all of a sudden, I saw this guy on a treadmill right on the side of the road. Now, I live in the freakin' boonies so when I'm driving to work, I'm either way out in the county or I'm on the highway. As it was, I was on the highway portion of my drive. By the time I'm on the highway, traffic is pretty heavy so the first time I saw this dude, it was a quick glance and I wasn't sure I saw what I thought I saw. Still, he was there the next day. And the next. And the next.



Dude. Treadmill on the highway? With all that traffic?

The first couple of times I saw him, I didn't notice any signs or advertisement so I was really confused. It seemed like a rather odd place to exercise.

It was really cold for Alabama on several mornings and this guy was still out there - very bundled up but out there every day. I started trying to figure out his story. I thought maybe he'd lost some kind of New Year's Eve bet. Then, I noticed a banner he had strung up by his highway treadmill.


Aha! He's promoting a health food store!

My logical mind kicked in and I was quite derisive. Dude, health? You're breathing in two county's worth of exhaust fumes every morning. That's fucked up.

But, yet, I was fascinated with this guy. He was dedicated. He was out there every morning. We had some obnoxiously horrible weather. He was out there. After a while, he started jogging - then running - on the treadmill. I found myself talking to him every morning.

"Good morning, Highway Treadmill Guy."

"Dude, you are seriously dedicated, Highway Treadmill Guy."

The weather got better and the layers of clothing lessened.

"Looking good, Highway Treadmill Guy!"

I don't know if he was trying to get healthier or promote the store but he was definitely getting my attention.

A week ago, he had a new sign posted: Last Week

Dude. That sucks.

I'm going to miss him but whatever he was doing, it worked. I'm going to the health food store tomorrow. I'm going to find out what the dealio is.

I'll be sure to let you know.

The Best Nest

One of my favorite books when I was a child was The Best Nest by P.D. Eastman. What Mr. Bird says all throughout the book is:

"I love my house.
I love my nest.
In all the world,
my nest is best!"

I get that.

This past Saturday, I got new houseguests. I like these houseguests MUCH better than my previous ones.

Introducing the Dove family:


I thought it was kind of cool how they showed up the day before Easter.

Tap, tap, tap... Is this thing on?

I have had so much bloggity-blog-blog stuff to share with you, dear Internet. Alas, I have been paralyzed by my last post. Every single time I had something to write about, I'd remember that I hadn't followed up on Electile Dysfunction. Then, the thought of writing about politics would make my head hurt.

So, you haven't read about Highway Treadmill Guy or the ancient iron or what's cooking in Ima's kitchen or my Flat Stanley project and the follow-on to that, Flat Stanley After Dark. I haven't written about continuing Publix Embarrassment or my searches for great service. No haikus (Haiked Up, Clafoutis, Redneck, Wine) or limericks or funny cartoons have made their way to the Not-So-Wordy-After-All-Bitch blog.

So, rather than write a long essay about each of my voting issues, I'll keep it short and get this over with so I can blog about trivial stuff again. Someday, maybe when I have a little more emotional energy, I'll expound but no promises (threats).

In my last post, I listed my voting issues as follows:

1. Pro-Defense
2. Pro-Gun Rights
3. Pro-Life
4. Pro-Gay Marriage

That's the wrong order, for one thing. Let me try again.

1. Pro-Life

The rest pretty much all tie for importance but I'm just not going to vote for someone who is not pro-life.

Now, I know terminology can get people all stirred up and I could devote this whole post to that topic (but I'm not). I'm pro-life. I call it pro-life. I don't use the term anti-life for people who are pro-choice. Please don't call me anti-choice. I'll use your preferred term for you and you use mine for me, okay? I'm not anti-choice. It might surprise you to know that I'm pro-choice in my own way.

I do not for a minute think that any person or agency or government should tell any sane adult what they can or can not do with their own body. After that is where my path and the pro-choicers paths separate. The way I see it, once a person is pregnant, it's not just their body we're discussing. It comes down to the question of when life begins. There are so many differing opinions on this. Whether it's at conception or when there are brain waves or at birth or first breath has been and will continue to be debated. Brain waves (one of the criteria for keeping an adult on life support) have been measured at six weeks after conception. For me, that's life - an innocent life. Technology may eventually show us that there's "life" earlier than that.

I believe a person should be able to do what they want to do with their own body but that involves being responsible about that body. We all do risky things, knowing the risks and taking precautions, but knowing the potential consequences. Don't want any more kids? You can take all of the precautions: condoms, birth control pills, vasectomy for your partner, tubal ligations, etc. but there's still the risk of pregnancy. The only sure ways are to either not have sex or not have a uterus (yay, hysterectomies!)

There are arguments for legal abortion that are worth civilized discussion (life of the mother being one) but the current laws allowing abortion for any reason means that many innocent lives are ended because they were inconvenient or would create a hardship or just because the mother wasn't being responsible about her body. I've seen it and I've heard it. I volunteered for a crisis pregnancy hotline many years ago and met women who used abortion as birth control. I understand how difficult it can be to be a pregnant teenager who isn't going to be able to take the scholarship - that was me.

Contentious topic, I know, but it's one about which I feel very strongly and, as the tagline says, "This is how I see it." That said, I'd be glad to have a rational, reasonable, polite conversation about this or any topic.

Since I promised I wasn't going to do a lengthy essay on each of my voting issues, I'll keep the other three really short for today.

~Pro-Gun Rights: I'm a law-abiding citizen. Taking my gun rights because others have abused theirs is not acceptable.

~Pro-Defense: We can not afford to be complacent.

~Pro-Gay Marriage: I am sure I'll do a long post on this at some point... Love is a good thing, baby. Marriage isn't just a religious thing - it's a legal thing. The laws are written using the word "marriage" to show a legal joining that allows for certain legal rights - legal rights that should not be infringed upon because of who or how you love.

Peace and Love and Congrats to Vermont this week for seeing the light!

Electile Dysfunction – Part One

I know, I know… the election is over. Let’s just say I’m getting ready early for 2012. Or, I’m doing a little do-it-yourself psychoanalysis about my reaction to the election.

The title of this post comes from something I read several weeks ago. It defined electile dysfunction as, “the inability to become aroused over any of the choices for President put forth by either party in the 2008 election year.” That’s how I felt.

I don’t vote by party. I vote issues. There was no single candidate who I felt spoke for me, who would support the issues that matter to me. My main voting issues are limited to just four. My ideal candidate would be:

1. Pro-Defense
2. Pro-Gun Rights
3. Pro-Life
4. Pro-Gay Marriage

It’s pretty easy until you get to number four. Most conservative candidates are pro-defense, pro-gun rights, and pro-life. No one seems to want to stand up and say they support gay marriage.

McCain? I like mavericks. I think he’s an amazing man who doesn’t get nearly enough credit for everything he’s done (and sacrificed) for this country.

When Palin was chosen as the Vice-Presidential candidate for the Republicans, I was kind of excited. No, I didn’t necessarily think she’d be a great VP but I didn’t think she’d be any worse than the other choices. I was excited because she was different. She wasn’t afraid to go against her party. She didn’t seem to be intimidated by the whole process.

Still, I wasn’t going to vote Republican because… well, I’ll explain that in a little while.

Obama. Obama wasn’t going to get my vote because he threatens my paycheck, my right to own guns, and the right-to-life movement. He’s also pretty wishy-washy on the gay marriage issue.

Biden? Barely a blip on my radar. From what I’ve observed, read, and heard - he’s your standard Democrat-politician type. Not too much to get excited about there.

I’ve often said that if I was forced to choose a political party, it would be Libertarian. They believe in smaller government, lower taxes, and more freedom. That’s the short version. If you’d like to read more, check out the Libertarian Party Platform (It’s a link! Go ahead! Click it!)

Still, their candidate didn’t excite me all that much. Bob Barr seemed to be, again, more of the same stuff we’ve always had but in a shiny, new Libertarian package. Bob was a Republican until 2004 although he did, frequently, opposed several Republican-sponsored actions. He didn’t really appeal to me that much but he did get my vote.

Why, you ask?

Here’s why.

I live in Alabama. McCain was going to win Alabama. I could live with that. What I wanted was for my vote to make a difference.

I admit it. I was a bit jealous of my liberal and Democrat friends who had a candidate who made them feel excited and passionate.

I want to be excited about an election and a candidate during my lifetime. The only way I’m ever going to have that feeling is if there’s a viable candidate who isn’t part of the Republican or Democratic sameness. The only way we’re going to see other candidates is if the people who fund them believe they stand a chance.

Barr got my vote* because I wanted other Libertarian and Independent candidates to step forward in the years to come. I hope that if Independents get enough votes that, during the next election and the ones after that, there will be more choices. It won’t happen soon but maybe, someday, there will be a candidate for me.

Call me an optimist.

Over the next few posts, I plan to talk a little bit about my political issues. I’m not planning on beating anyone over the head with my beliefs; however, I’ve learned that simply understanding where someone else is coming from (even if you never feel the way they do) goes a very long way. Understanding, even with disagreement, leads to peaceful discussion.

Kumbayah, y’all.



*My vote was one of 4,991 for Bob Barr in Alabama. Other candidate totals: McCain – 1,266,546; Obama – 813,479; Nader – 6,788; Baldwin – 4,310. Just think! If I hadn’t voted for Barr, he would have only received 4,990 votes. It’s hard being an optimist some days.

Certain Things Make Me Uncomfortable...

Apologies, even when they're heartfelt can be uncomfortable. You know, like apologizing for not blogging in freakin' forever.

Dear Chef~H, Pinky, AndiKandi and everyone else who has scolded, cajoled, pleaded, or given up on me ever posting again,

I'm sorry.

Sincerely,
Ima



Are we all over that now?
Super!


Apologizing about my absence isn't what has really made me uncomfortable, though.


It's toesocks.




Yep. Toesocks.

My daughter's really weird about feet. I mean, no one touches her feet. She doesn't like seeing or touching feet belonging to other people. She loves toesocks. She's a bit of a freak.

Me, I'm cool with feet. As long as they aren't dirty and don't have clawnails instead of toenails, they're mostly non-offensive to me. Don't tickle mine and we're going to get along just fine. I really don't like toesocks. I am also a bit of a freak.

I want to like toesocks. They're cute! The ones I purchased in yet another failed attempt to develop an appreciation for them even have monkeys on them! Monkeys! I love monkeys. I love socks! I like feet! Why, oh why, do I have such an issue with toesocks?




I was talking to my dear friend, Chef_H, the other day and she summed it up perfectly:

"It's like your toes are wearing thongs."

That Chef~H may have issues with fried chicken but she's a genius when it comes to toesocks.

Just a bit of a sidenote... I have Spock toes. If you know me in person, you've probably seen them sans socks. Seriously. Spock toes.


Live long and prosper, Internet.

Racing for the Cure!

On Sunday, I will be participating in my 4th Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure.

Last year, I did a whole Boob Week to raise awareness. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to post as much recently. However, I am still raising money and would greatly appreciate any help you can give. Seriously, any amount helps. A dollar? Five? Twenty?

Today is the deadline for donations and you can reach my secure fundraising page by CLICKING HERE. That link will redirect you to my Susan G. Komen / Kintera fund-raising page. My nickname on the team is Mz Grinch (just in case you're wondering who the heck that is).

Thank you!!

Give Me Some Breathing Room, Okay?

Close contact with other people can be one of the greatest pleasures in life.

Close contact with other people can be one of the creepiest experiences in life.

I'm a hugger. I hug my family. I hug my friends. I am quite affectionate and, usually, I really like people.

I don't like the inappropriate hug. I don't like the person behind me in the checkout lane who gets close enough to bang my foot with their shopping cart. I don't like people who breach the my space/your space boundary at my desk. I prefer you to keep your distance at the ATM. Please, keep your child at your table when eating out. If you're going to come by my house, a courtesy call announcing your intention prior to your arrival would be most appreciated; otherwise, I will porch* you.

I recently saw a lovely graphical representation of these kinds of social blunders. I have printed several wallet-sized versions so that I will be able to quickly hand them to the guilty. For your viewing pleasure, I have added one here.



If you are one of the guilty people, stop it. If you're not sure, hug me. If you get a card, you are one of those people. If you don't get a card, hug me again.



~~~~~~~~
*porch; v. the act of stepping out of one's house and onto the porch in order to keep an unannounced visitor from entering.

Pinky's Poem

Pinky is a friend of mine
Pinky wears pink shoes
I promised Pinky two posts
To read when he webpage views

This effort isn't quite as good
As some others I've attempted
It's sad that I must work for pay
Dear Pinky's been pre-empted.

I Made It All By Myself!

Finding Greek-style yogurt isn’t always easy. Finding Greek-style, plain, fat-free yogurt is even more difficult. Greek yogurt is much like regular yogurt only thicker. Plus, it doesn’t get that weird, icky, pale yellow yogurt juice on top. Blech. You can read more about it here, at Wikipedia.

I like Greek-style so much more than regular yogurt that if I can’t find it, I normally just pass on yogurt altogether. You can use Greek-style yogurt in place of sour cream in a pinch and, when sweetened, it provides an acceptable substitute for whipped cream.

Recently, while I was out of town, I really wanted some yogurt. No Greek-style yogurt could be found. I remembered that a friend of mine had told me how I could make my own so I gave it a try. It worked perfectly and I shared my yogurt joy with MrWurdi.


Me: You know how I’m always bitching about how hard it is to find Greek yogurt?

MrWurdi: (cautiously) Yes…

Me: I made my own! It was fabulous!

MrWurdi: How did you do that?

Me: I lined a colander with several coffee filters and put it over a bowl. Then, I put the regular yogurt in the colander, put a paper towel over the top, and put it in the refrigerator. The next morning, TAH DAH! Greek yogurt!

MrWurdi: No way!?!

Me: Exactly! No whey! Hahahah, get it? No whey! W-H-E-Y! Hahahaha!



I am such a dork.

It's Over

The beginning of a relationship is so exhilarating. From the relief that it’s not like the old relationship to the thrill and excitement of all the new discoveries, it’s no wonder we get lost in the bright, glowing light of new love.

Even as the newness begins to wear off and we start seeing the minor (and not-so-minor) flaws, we try to hang onto that glorious rush of euphoria. We forgive the flaws. We tell ourselves that things will get better; things will change.

As time goes on, we try to focus on the positive and ignore the negative. We form mental pros and cons lists. We tell ourselves that the good outweighs the bad.

Eventually, the faults start accumulating and we find ourselves getting inappropriately angry over insignificant events. That’s when we know the end is near. We realize that all those things that infatuated us at the beginning are just glittery window dressing and that the substance just doesn’t exist. They aren’t really there for us when we need them. That’s what happened to me and that’s why it’s over.

I’m breaking up with Target.



Oh, I admit, I was smitten by the wide aisles and clean stores. The OXO brand kitchen implements and the whole wheat pasta selections wooed me. It may have just been the tint of the rose-colored glasses of infatuation that made the screaming, irritable babies less grating and irritating but even that seemed more tolerable at Target.

Sure, they weren’t open twenty-four hours a day and they didn’t carry the fat-free Fage yogurt but no one’s perfect, right? They had a Starbucks and they were less than five minutes from my office. Convenience, cleanliness, and caffeine all in the same place? What’s not to love? They even carried the elusive Honeycrisp apple for a few weeks each year.

Even with all the good, I realized there were problems in our relationship. The pharmacy failed to perform and the staff wasn’t exactly what I’d call satisfying. Still, I returned time and again hoping to recapture the glory of my early love for Target. I should have realized when I bought the pump spray bottles for my canola and olive oils that the end was near. I filled them, pumped them up, then watched in dismay as the oil went from a light, misting spray to a sputtering, dripping, disappointing drizzle. It made me think of old men with prostate problems and that’s not how you want to feel about things you use in your kitchen.

The final straw was a few weeks ago. I didn’t have time to go the long way and hit the drive-through Starbucks on the way to work. I debated the merits of stopping at the Target Starbucks. Sure, I’d have to get out of my car and it was raining but it was just a minute out of the way on the way to the office and it was only ten minutes until eight. I had time. I pulled into the parking lot, thrilled to be getting a spot up front. I unfurled my umbrella and made a damp dash to the door.

It was locked.

I was shocked.

I looked at the sign on the door and saw that they’d changed their hours. They didn’t open until eight o’clock. That was it for me. The end. Target just wasn’t there for me when I needed them.

I can’t close this post without a small confession. Recently, I was out of town on business and my customer wanted to run by Target. I wasn’t going to buy anything but I had a gift card. The lure of the Archer Farms Chai Cookie was too much and I really did need a hat.

I feel so dirty.

Bok Choy, Jicama, & Apple Slaw

Gadget Girl, Transparent Boy, Chef Helen and several other friends made a special request that I post this recipe after I brought it to dinner the other night. The recipe below is how I prepared it and it makes a light and refreshing side dish. I've also made it and added diced cooked chicken and whole wheat couscous which makes it suitable for a light main dish.


Bok Choy, Jicama, and Apple Slaw
Salad
3 apples, sliced thin then chopped (I use whatever I have on hand; this time it was two Fuji and one Braeburn)
1 medium jicama (about a cup), sliced thin then chopped
One half head of bok choy, chopped with greens shredded

Dressing
1 cup orange juice or the juice from two oranges (pineapple juice would probably also be good)
2 Tablespoons fresh lime juice
3 Tablespoons white vinegar
2 Tablespoon mustard
1 teaspoon onion powder
2 Tablespoons brown sugar
1/4 cup fresh mint, chopped
dash or two of salt and pepper, to taste

Combine apple, jicama, onion and bok choy in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk all the dressing ingredients together and pour over the slaw.

Doubling the recipe for the dressing will give you a nice marinade for chicken or fish.

***********
In an attempt to be more entertaining, I'll be posting something that's NOT a recipe later this week.
***********

I Need a Break.

The Scene
Monday night. 9:15 p.m.
After nearly a month of 60+ hour work weeks and putting in an absolutely brutal day at work, I'd hoped to get home for a relaxing evening before packing for my 6:30 a.m. flight the next morning. I was at work. I was tired. It didn't look like I'd be leaving any time soon.


The Conversation

Bossman: So, how are you doing? Hanging in there okay?

Me: I'm beginning to suspect that I have horribly wronged you in a past life and, as a result, you are trying to kill me in this one.









Fortunately, my boss appreciates my sense of humor.

I've Been a Little Distracted

Once again, my blogging has stalled due to unforeseen events.

I have a new housemate.

This is my new housemate.



He showed up with about a hundred of his friends last week. Don't recognize him? Here are a few of his family members, also residing in my home.




Termites. Damned termites. Munching on the wood within the walls of my house.

I am not a happy camper.

From Ima's Kitchen - Core Granola

First, a little bit of background. In order to balance out my love of food and drink, I also do Weight Watchers. Weight Watchers has two eating plans, Core and Flex. In 2004, I lost 30 pounds using the Flex plan.

Flex allows you to have any food you like but within a certain number of Points per day, based on your height, weight, and several other factors. Points are calculated using the calories, fat, and fiber in a serving of food. In addition to those daily Points, you get 35 weekly points to use as you'd like for extra things.

Core is the Weight Watcher "no count" plan. As long as you eat from a specific list of foods, you don't have to count the Points. If you want something that's not on the list, you can use the 35 weekly points. With Core, you eat until you are satisfied - not full or stuffed - just no longer hungry. It can take a little bit of time to learn where that "Comfort Zone" is but by eating mindfully and paying attention to your body's signals, it can be done.

While I used Flex to get to my goal weight, I did it by eating a lot of overly processed foods. The frozen meals, cereal bars, and other not-so-healthy foods were a means to an end; i.e., lose fat/weight. I was hungry much of the time because I wasn't eating real foods or getting enough protein or meeting many of Weight Watcher Good Health Guidelines.

What I love about Core is that it, mostly, focuses on real, healthy foods - whole grains, lean meats, fruits, vegetables, fat-free dairy products, and healthy oils. Note: This is not a complete list nor does it list some of the restrictions; that would be infringing on WW copyright. I still have those "extra Points" for wine, martinis, and carrot cake.

For this post, I wanted to share my recipe for granola. It is adapted, as most of my recipes are, from a combination of other recipes.

CORE GRANOLA
4 cups old-fashioned oats
1 cup non-fat dry milk powder
1/2 c. cream of wheat
1 cup kasha (buckwheat groats)

Mix together and add

1 cup SF syrup, any flavor (I've been doing a half-cup of Davinci sugar-free hazelnut and a half-cup of sugar-free vanilla)

Mix well, spread into a cookie sheet that's been sprayed with a healthy oil (I use canola) and bake at 275 degrees for approximately 60 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes of so. It's done when the granola is crunchy and dry, but be careful not to burn it.

Cool well. Divided into six one-cup servings, each counts as half a dairy serving.
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Oooh! Look! Pictures!




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I just picked up some sugar-free cinnamon syrup and will be trying it next.

My dear friend, Kay, at Gobstruck is blogging about eating clean and focusing on whole foods these days. Be sure to check out her blog.

Recycle Yourself!

In the past few weeks, I’ve been talking a bit about what I’m doing to be greener. Several years ago, it wasn’t something I really worried or thought much about. I had other priorities (keeping the lights on, not killing my children, relationship drama). I depended on take-out foods and convenience everything. There weren’t enough hours in the day for everything I had to do. I was just trying to make life a little better for those living under my roof and I wasn’t that concerned about the bigger picture.

There was one thing I did do. I signed up to be an organ donor. It was just a little checkmark on my driver’s license but I also made sure I told my family that if anything happened to me, I wanted them to donate anything that could be used. I also told them to put whatever was left in a box and bury it with a headstone that read, “See? I told you I was sick.”

Don’t have the money to buy organic?
Don’t have time to cook from scratch using whole foods?
Don’t have time to separate your cans and plastics and cardboard boxes?

It’s okay. There’s still something you can do.


RECYCLE YOURSELF*


Unless your religion forbids it, why not give your body parts to people who can use them once you’re finished with them? From my recent reading, it turns out that humans don’t make for very good compost so why not put those parts in other people who can live a little longer and better because of them.

*I first saw this very cool phrase on one of my favorite blogs, Driving With the Brakes On in a post titled, "A Holiday Reminder." Her husband is an Organ Recovery Coordinator for the Donor Alliance. Driving is not only a supporter of the Recycle Yourself plan, she’s also growing her very own new human.

55 Fiction Friday! March 7, 2008

All the details on what 55 Fiction is and how to play are at the end of the post. Come on, you can do it!

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Following her usual Friday afternoon routine, Janie stopped at the grocery store. Puzzled by the large crowd and full parking lot, she went about her shopping. The barren bread shelf should have been an indication but as she approached the empty milk cooler, it all became crystal clear.

The weather forecasters were calling for snow.


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55 fiction is a very, very short story of exactly 55 words. It needs to have a character, conflict and resolution.

The Wikipedia article on 55 Fiction is here and some great examples are here.. You can also click on the 55 Fiction label below to see what Wordy Bitch and Wordy Bitch readers have done in the past.
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Come play! Add your story to the comments or put it on your blog and I'll link to it. It's fun. You'll like it.
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Seriously, what is it about the threat of snow that sends everyone to the grocery store for milk, bread and toilet paper? Getting snowed in means you should eat French toast and go to the bathroom a lot?

I'm having a dinner for my parents and son this weekend and now I'm going to have to deal with all the alarmists. Boo. Hiss.

Publix Embarrassment

I left my shopping cart in the Publix parking lot last night. They don’t have cart corrals. I left it right there. In the parking lot.

I am so embarrassed.

I didn’t want to do it.

I was under the influence of that dreadful condition… being nice.

Let me explain.

First of all, to understand how completely hypocritical I felt, you have to read my rant: Return Your Cart Here ~ or ~ People Irritate Me – Chapter2. I have publicly scolded people for their inconsiderate cart abandonment.

There I was, in the Publix parking lot. I’d just finished my little bit of shopping. Now, since you know I’m all about trying to be greener I was feeling rather proud of myself because I’d even remembered to grab my canvas bags out of the truck. This, in itself, was not an easy task. They were in the covered bed of the truck when I got to the store. They’d slid all the way up and I had to climb up in the truck. I was on my way home from work so I was wearing a skirt and heels. And it was windy. I had to boost myself up on the rather high tailgate (I’m short), then scoootch back, then lean back while holding my skirt down with one hand and reaching for the bags with the other.

Picture it.

Oh, hell, don’t bother.

Here’s what it looked like:

See? Not easy.

I went in and I looked at the organic produce. I didn’t need any of the produce they had that was organic but I did look at it. I did buy a non-organic cucumber because I like a cucumber garnish for my Hendricks martinis and I usually have cucumber as one of my snacks. I’m wandering, aren’t I? Do you see what’s happening here? I hate being hypocritical and I was and I’m just delaying the inevitable confession of my hypocrisy. And yes, it is inevitable. I’m a recovering Catholic and once you’ve learned how to confess you just can’t stop yourself.

I put the few things I needed in my cart, including my non-recombinant bovine growth hormone milk. I didn’t buy the organic milk. I was going to because that was my plan and I do like a good plan. They just didn’t have it in gallon size containers. More containers = less green, right? Plus, while I was blocking up the aisle, debating the merits of organic plus more packaging versus non-organic with less packaging, I noticed something in small print on the non-organic, Publix brand milk: No bovine growth hormones. Seriously. Store-brand milk with no hormones! Score! I’m still planning on trying some organic milk, it’s just going to have to wait until I can buy it a gallon at a time.

I was so pleased to see that the lady in front of me in the check-out line was also using canvas bags. I think the lady behind us was feeling guilty. She didn’t have canvas.

Usually, at Publix, a bagger person brings your groceries to your car and then returns the cart to the store. This eliminates the whole “return your cart” issue. Last night, there wasn’t a bagger person available so I got to bag my own groceries. Really, I’d prefer to bag them myself all the time because, well, because, um. Look. It’s like this. I know the best way to bag my groceries. I do.

Um.

I was just about to detail my OCD bagging tendencies but I think we all know that I’m just trying to keep from telling about how and why I left my cart in the parking lot. Besides, that can be a fun little story for another day.

~sigh~

I bagged my own groceries and wheeled my cart out to the truck. I was just getting ready to walk back to the store to return my cart when some (probably very nice) lady in a mini-van pulled up to my parking spot. It was a nice spot. It was pretty close to the store and the weather was getting worse and I could see why she’d want my spot. She rolled down her window, leaned out and said, “I’ll return that cart for you.”

“Great! Thanks!” I said, on the outside.

“But, but, I can’t leave the cart in the parking lot! I just can’t!” I said, on the inside.

I really had a problem with this. Yes, I know. I’m a dork but let me explain.

She would know that she’d taken responsibility for the cart. I’d know that she was taking responsibility for the cart. (Of course, I was planning on watching her in my rear view mirror and if she didn’t take that cart in, I was going to drive back around and give her a good scolding.) It’s just that anyone else watching would not know that Mini-van Mom and I had an agreement about the care and returning of the cart. It’s not that I care (that much) about what people think about me, either. It’s that someone watching might not be a regular returner. Seeing another person not returning their cart could nudge them right off the return-the-cart fence onto the “everybody leaves their cart” side.

THAT IS NOT A GOOD SIDE!

Still, what was I supposed to do? I had to leave the cart. There just wasn’t another good solution. I carefully positioned the cart so it wouldn’t roll into someone’s car and I got into the truck. Just as I was about to back up, a bagger person walked by. He was heading back to the store. He saw and retrieved my cart.

The.Shame.

You have no idea. Well, if you read my rant, you have an idea but, really, the actual shame was horrible.

He’ll probably not remember the inconsiderate woman in the big, honkin’, gas-guzzling truck who just lazily (not really!) left her cart in the lot. My concern was more that it might have colored his whole customer attitude for the rest of the evening. The ripple effect. He might have been testy with customers for the rest of the evening because his perception of the customer had been unjustifiably tainted by my cart abandonment.


Hmm.

I should probably get a hobby.