SALE

In an effort to voluneteer, I am helping with a fundraising rummage sale. As we sort through all the trash, errr, I mean donations for the sale, I decided that someone should have been a little more frank about what we will and will not accept. So here are the rummage sale rules cortousy of moi:

Rule #1
Please do not donate items that carry an aroma reminiscent of any of the following: basement, litter-box, ashtray, bar floor, old people. This is not only to increase the likelihood of said items selling, but also to decrease the likelihood of vomiting by the poor person charged with opening the sealed, warm boxes and garbage bags filled with said items when such odors come pouring out.

Rule #2
Neither baby powder nor Old Spice are capable of removing the odors mentioned in Rule #1.

Rule #3
Used clothing is fine. Even your acid-washed jeans. Even your Peaches-N-Herb concert t-shirt. Even your box full of enough shoulder pads to send Alexis Carrington into a fit of jealously.
If you are going to donate underwear, however, please do not leave any evidence that the underwear has ever been worn. This same rule applies to jock straps, even monogrammed ones.

Rule #4
When attending a rummage sale of any kind, you should know that if you choose to try on the above-mentioned acid washed jeans in the church hall and strip down to your underwear to do so, we will all be able to see you.

Rule #5
Certainly, there could be a select market for people looking for just one beat-up shoe in a women’s size 5 Narrow, but that is not very probable.

Rule #6
Please be sure to thoroughly clean out the training potty chair before you donate it. Ideally, you would thoroughly clean it out after each use. But that could just be me and my high suburban standards. I dunno.

Rule #7
That is awesome of you to think of us when you are trying to decide what to do with the mattress you have obviously been using since well before the Summer of Love, but I would have even more appreciated it even more if you had taken the spring-loaded petrie dish to a biohazard drop-off facility before your lured me into touching it by leaving it at the donation drop site after-hours.

Rule #8
Clothing, sheets, towels, blankets, and curtains that are covered in what appears to be hair from any part of your body or your pet’s body will be classified as “Contaminated” and immediately discarded. The person discarding the item will simultaneously gag and curse your name once you are out of earshot.

Rule #9
If the item has ever been inside any part of your body that is typically covered by undergarments, please do not donate it to be sold to someone else. I do not care how much luck that basal thermometer brought you in conceiving your six children over the years, allowing another woman to use it is just gross.

On the plus side... Rule #10
If you donate a purse with the Prada label still attached, I will absolutely buy it the night before the sale officially begins, carry it for the next six months, and not feel weird about it at all.

Is that a banana on the bus or it is just happy to see me?

Ahh, Halloween, the holiday that conjures up visions of giddy young children frolicking about the neighborhood in search of the one house dishing out full-sized candy bars and average adults dressed up like dead celebrities.
Children high on Nerds and Tootsie Pops are darling and all, and I love an army of teenage mutant transforming X-men marching up and down my street as much as the next mom, almost as much as I cannot wait to see the thrilling throng of Michael Jacksons sure to moonwalk their way around town this year.
But it is revelers like my brother, Jay, who help make Halloween one of my favorite holidays.
Jay lives the happy life of a hot and happenin’ 29-ish-year-old in Minneapolis. He has a great job, lives in a cute little place in South Minneapolis - he has no wife, no fiancé, no live-in girlfriend. (He is a catch, ladies.)
Last year for Halloween, Jay decided (at the last minute, because when one is single one can do anything one chooses on a moment’s notice) (from what I recall) to attend a Halloween party downtown.
Wearing a banana suit, of course, because he lives alone, with no one around to talk him out of it.
Taking a cab from his house in a banana suit on Halloween was not a problem. The cabbie did not question him. In fact, he hardly seemed to notice.
Attending a party dressed like a King-Kong-sized banana was not a problem either. Sure, he may have stood out among last year’s many Sarah Palins, but after a few goblets of witch’s brew I imagine he began to blend right in.
No, the problem came the next morning when Jay, still dressed as a banana, woke up at a (female) friend’s house, nowhere near his home. His friend did not pass judgment on him for staying overnight on her couch wrapped up in a yellow foam – and surprisingly realistic-looking – peel. That is a true friend. A truer friend would have discretely driven him back to his car, but this friend did not own transportation.
The best she could do was loan him $2.25 for the bus and send him on his way.
Jay contemplated his next move. While the $2.25 was most helpful, as he had left his wallet behind at one of the haunts from the night before, a change of clothes might have come in just as handy.
For some reason, however, the thought of changing into a girl’s clothes was out of the question. That would have completely stripped my brother of his dignity.
And so off to the bus stop he went, wearing black tights, a black t-shirt, and an overgrown banana peel.
He arrived at the stop just as the bus was pulling away, taunting him into running after it, waving his arms and yelling, unconcerned with the stares he was receiving on the streets of Minneapolis in the early hours of November 1st.
Fortunately the bus slowed down, and the Man-Sized Banana, hopped on, breathing heavy from the short run and was greeted by a busload of awe-struck passengers and one crying toddler.
“They started yelling at me to slow down for the banana,” the bus driver said, pointing to the people behind him.
Jay chose a seat near the middle.
One passenger was sympathetic to his plight, though. A young guy who leaned across the aisle to Jay and simply patted him on the back saying, “It’s okay, man. Everyone’s done the banana walk of shame at some point.”

I like to think there is a special place in heaven for people like Sympathetic Bus Guy.

So remember this year, when November 1st rolls around, to be kind to those still in costume from the night before. For you know not their struggles. But feel free to photograph, otherwise no one will believe your story. Happy Halloween.

Black Bean Lasagna

Ingredients:

15 oz Can Black Beans, rinsed and drained
28 0z can Crushed Tomatoes
½ C – Chunky Salsa
1 tsp – Chili powder
1 small container – Light Ricotta Cheese
½ C – Cottage Cheese
1 tsp – Cumin
1/8 tsp – garlic powder
1 – Egg
2-4 C – Shredded Mexican blend cheese
1 – Box uncooked lasagna noodles (Barilla works the best!!)


Preparation:

Heat oven to 350 degrees and spray 9x13 inch pan with cooking sprayMash black beans in a bowl. Stir in tomatoes, salsa and chili powder. (I throw it all in the food processor and blend).

Combine Ricotta & Cottage cheese with garlic powder, cumin and egg.

Cover bottom of pan with about 1 C bean and tomato mixture, top with noodles, then ricotta mixture and then cheese. Repeat. Final layer should be noodles with bean and tomato mixture and cheese. Cover with foil and bake for 40 – 45 minutes. Let sit for 10 minutes before serving.


Notes:

• I added meat from a rotisserie chicken (or baked chicken breasts), adding it between the ricotta and shredded cheese layer. You could also use ground beef or ground turkey.
• Sliced green onion and black olives are great on top layer for color or crushed tortilla chips
• I served it with a dollop of sour cream and Avocado slices.
• Freezes really well too!!

bragger

My final project before going out on maternity leave:

We Should Patent That #1
We Should Patent That #2
We Should Patent That #3

Seems strangely ironic that I'd be working on the Westlaw Patent launch with my constant desire to come up with the next million dollar idea....yo.

makes my mouth water!

Since 1933, the wines of Louis M. Martini have been crafted in the belief that wine is best enjoyed with food and among friends and family. The Martini family has been gathering and creating recipes for generations, recipes made with their rich, distinctive wines in mind. Here is one such recipe.


Ingredients:
4 duck breast halves
1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries
½ cup cabernet sauvignon
2- 1/2 cups fat free chicken broth
2 teaspoons powdered ginger
1 teaspoon honey
1 teaspoon lemon juice
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon softened butter
1 teaspoon flour


Directions:
Bring blueberries, wine, chicken broth, ginger, honey, lemon juice and pepper to a boil in a non-reactive saucepan. Boil gently until sauce is reduced by half. Blend butter and flour together and whisk it into the sauce. Continue to boil gently for one more minute to thicken.Score the fat side of the duck breasts with a sharp knife in an X shape. Preheat a 12 inch saute pan, over moderately high heat. Sear the duck breasts, fatty side down for 5 to 6 minutes until they are a rich golden brown. Turn the breasts to the meaty side, reduce heat and continue to cook for 5 more minutes. Be careful not to overcook. Meat should be pink inside. Transfer the duck breasts to a cutting board and slice diagonally across the meat. Fan sliced duck breast on individual serving plates and ladle blueberry sauce over each.
Serves four.


Wine Pairing: Louis M. Martini Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon

Summer Picnic (kid friendly too!)

Elbows and Peas with Cheese
Serves four

Ingredients:
1 c. cooked elbow macaroni (or other bite-size pasta)
1/3 c. cooked fresh English peas
1/3 c. crumbled feta cheese
1/3 c. canned chickpeas (strained)
1 tomato (seeded and diced)
2 tbsp. olive oil1 lemon

Gently combine ingredients and top with a squirt of lemon juice.


Mango-Banana Tango Parfaits
Serves four

Ingredients:
1 very ripe mango (peeled and rough chopped)
2 pints strawberries2 bananas (peeled and rough chopped)
2 c. full-fat Fage Greek yogurt

In a blender, puree each fruit separately. Whip yogurt into soft peaks by hand or using a mixer. Alternate layers of fruit puree and yogurt in four-ounce jars or glasses.
Garnish with store-bought vanilla wafers and a sprig of fresh mint.

sorry... no, I'm really not

I realized today that women work apologies into their language way more than men do. A woman accidentally walks in on me in the public bathroom at the movie theater, and I can't help it; the first words out of my mouth are not, "Damn, get your own." Instead I say, "Sorry, this one is occupied." Makes absolutely no sense, but I apologize when someone else bumps into me. I apologize way too easily, and it pisses me off, especially knowing that men... men don't.

And yet.

I find myself wanting to apologize, wanting to explain what I'm working on now, wanting people to understand that I'm torn, that I'm working on a lot of things at once, and I want them to understand, to excuse mediocre, to understand that I can only give so much. I want to make excuses, and I don't want them to be called excuses.

I nearly apologized for not posting in a while. For not writing in a week because my life got in the way. In the end I am writing to tell you that I am taking a little blogging break without any appologies. See you in when I'm in the mood again.... don't worry, I'll be back before you know it!

I need to learn how to make these!

Little humans, there is a new consumable that must be placed into your eating orifice immediately: truffle cones.
The origin of these treats has been discovered: emersion occurred in Toledo, Ohio, by confectioners at FireLilly Chocolates. They have concocted crunchy waffle cones filled with sweet, decadent chocolate from exotic locations — Experiments prove said tasty nuggets summon enjoyable sensations. For instance, dark raspberry makes tongue tart and tangy. Peanut butter and almond create cosmic sweet and salty explosion inside mouth. Must not forget dark and milk varieties that enable the simple and straightforward chocolate fix.
In summary, they are out of this world.

Happy 56th Birthday Mom!

I think of you and miss you everyday... life is so different without you. I wish you could come back to me and be a part of our growing family. I want you there with me when this baby is born like you were with Jack. I hope that someday the hole my heart gets a little smaller or perhaps stops aching so much.

I love you.

overheard

First guy: "Dude, you got Internet where you live?"

Second guy: "Um... what?"

First guy: "The INTERNET! You know, Google and stuff."

Second guy: "Dude, it's 2009. The Internet is everywhere. Of course I have it where I live."

First guy: "It's not everywhere, man. It's not in the woods and shit. They don't run those wires out into the middle of nowhere."

Second guy: "Okay, maybe not in the woods, but most people have access to the Internet."

First guy: "Or out in the ocean. I bet you can't get the Internet on a boat."

Second guy: "Well, see, they make these things where you can access the Internet wirelessly."

First guy: "Wire-what?"

Second guy: "Wirelessly. It works kind of like a cell phone. Do you know what a USB port is?"

First guy: "Dude, whatever. That's all future shit. Sounds like you're speaking Italian."

I've decided that from now on whenever the IT guy starts talking about a new software update I'm supposed to run on my computer, I'm going to hold up my hand and go WAIT. STOP. SOUNDS LIKE YOU'RE SPEAKING ITALIAN.

knuckle sandwich

If you greet me with outstretched knuckles, in anticipation of doing the traditional knuckle touching/fist pump move, rest assured that I will not leave you hanging. I will fulfill the gesture in the manner that society has mandated:

However, it’s worth noting that you’ve achieved the absolute opposite of what you intended. Rather than bonding with me, you have almost guaranteed that we will never be close in any form--because if we were really friends, you’d know that I find the gesture completely annoying . It’s actually my first filter for a potential friend. Well, that and whether you use the word “Irregardless.”

Furthermore, you might not want to push your luck and try it a second time. Because as I said, I won’t leave you hanging. But that doesn’t mean I won’t press my fist to yours and shout “WONDER TWIN POWERS ACTIVATE.”

And wouldn’t that be embarrassing if I did that with a lot of people around?

FML

Is it bad to admit that I’ve been really enjoying F*ck My Life? If you haven’t read it yet, it’s a twitter site where people from all walks of life send in short anecdotes about how their life sucks. It’s something that will make you feel better or make you smile, no matter what happened in your day.

captain literal

Today Jack had the last of some leftover mac ‘n cheese for his Second Lunch (yeah, kind of like Hobbits), and when that was gone he had a clementine. And when the clementine was gone he brought his empty bowl to me.

Jack: “More noo-noo?”
Me: “Sorry, Rascal, the noodles are all gone. No more noodles.”
Jack: “Noo-noo ah gone? Wheyah?”
Me: “You ate them all. They’re in your tummy now.”

He immediately lifted his shirt and examined his round tummy, prodding his belly button several times with a finger to see, perhaps, if any noodles would fall out.

supermarket personality

The supermarket -- I took advantage of a day off from work and went to the grocery store to quietly shop with out the crowds and an antsy toddler. With my calm demeanour, it got me noticing the people around me... As I began to examine the techniques of my fellow shoppers, the more I discovered that we are all, perhaps, not quite as unique as we may think. So look below and you may recognize some of these most common grocery shopping styles from your own supermarket adventures. Or you just might discover that you yourself are one of the grocery shopping personalities!

The Speed Demon:

Busy and loathing actual interactivity with other humans, this shopper can go from 0 to 60 in two seconds from the store entrance. This shopper knows what he/she wants, where it is, and the grocery store serves as one giant obstacle course before the checkered flag goes down and they race over the finish line. He/She is that blur the other shoppers see, and that gust of wind that blows the produce bags and makes the scales teeter.

The Social Butterfly:

From the moment this person steps through the automatic doors, it becomes a two-hour episode of "This Is Your Life." Yes, everyone they've ever met seems to already be there, waiting to greet them -- so it becomes less a case of grocery shopping, and more like a class reunion. Why, he/she don't even have time to squeeze the tomatoes before someone is calling their name and causing them to forget all about homegrowns. Hugs and kisses ensue. First grade teachers, old neighbors, aunties, plumbers and college sweetheart's cousin's former roommates can be found within the aisles to prompt a nice sprawling catch-up session. But be warned-- don't get tangled up in their elaborate tapestry of reminiscence and askew shopping carts-- you may never make it out of the store yourself!

The Codependent Caller:

This person has been sent to the grocery store by another friend or family member, and has absolutely no idea why he's/she's there. This shopping type is unable to take two steps down any aisle without grabbing their trusty cell phone and ringing for support. You can recognize them by the philosophical questions they ask. "No Pulp? Some Pulp? Or Xtreme Pulp?" So absorbed are Codependent Callers in getting the precise item they'd been sent for, they generate an actual force field bubble which blocks out all outside stimulus but the groceries and the person on the other end of the line. But beware, Codependent Callers come out in full-force during the Christmas holiday season. Encounter one of these well-meaning souls along with a Social Butterfly, and expect serious traffic jams in frozen foods. The bubble will prevent them from ever hearing you say, "Excuse me..."

The Zen Shopper:

This person is at one with the universe and therefore has no special agenda, or plans for their day -- ever. This means if they need to examine every single carrot in that bag of baby carrots, or weigh the yin-yang benefits of soup contents, they can do it. They might want some fruit, or a birthday cake, or corned beef hash, or light bulbs, but they really aren't sure -- they figure they'll know it when they see it. They love life, have all the time in the world, and view grocery shopping as just another calm, fascinating, fancy-free moment in this beautiful world. The trouble with Zen shoppers is, because the universe knows no bounds to them, they also tend to spread out. The Zen shopper is most likely to determine the ideal time to remove all outerwear... is in the door way. Watch out for unexpectedly outstretched arms in mid-coat-removal.

The Survivalist:

This person treats grocery shopping as an extension of a nuclear bomb training drill. At the first sign of snow, the year 2000 problem or strained relations with Russia, this person heads to the grocery store to stock up on everything from toilet paper, bread and milk to batteries, generators and tinfoil. You can recognize them because they're the ones dragging two shopping carts filled to the rim with canned goods and other items with no real expiration date. While they can be found frequenting bulk purchase stores like Sam's Club, they occasionally hit regular supermarkets for variety, as well as for rolls of toilet paper smaller than grain silos.

The Minimalist:

In contrast to the Survivalist, the Minimalist only picks up the very things that will be used for that day and this almost always involves fresh vegetables and something of the soy and or goat-by-product family. If asked, they will explain to you how much better it is to have everything fresh every day, and will be happy to share with you recipes for healthy eating. They will come away with one small canvas reusable grocery bag of items -- yet still somehow spend about as much money as the Survivalist.

The Shepherd:

Unable to find a sitter for the children, the Old Woman Who Lives in the Shoe is forced to strap them all in the mini-van and heads to the store. Tired and trying desperately to tune out their cries long enough to find the right coupon in her Advanced Portable Coupon Distribution System, she finds herself spending 80% of her time trying to round up the ankle-biters. Eventually, she is forced to abandon her endeavor with a proclamation: "Okay, that's it! Forget it! Everyone, stop what you're doing and head to the mini-van. We're all going back to the shoe!"

The Invisible Man:

You never actually see him because his groceries... are delivered. He pays more to avoid every one of the groups above and he laughs... laughs... Oh, how he laughs!



Did I miss a shopper type in this list? Go ahead and share it!

Me, mostly the Speed Demon, though I have had my Zen Shopping moments on days off.

parentblog cliché

Dear Two-Year-Old,

It’s hard to believe you’re two today. It’s even harder to write about it without employing every single parentblog cliché out there: the time flies so fast, these moments are so precious and over so quickly, it seems like just minutes ago you were a giant rib-kicking, bladder-punching passenger in my body and now here you are turning TWO. (Able to run up to me, knock me over if I’m sitting down, and kick my ribs and punch my bladder from the outside, all in the name of wrestling or tickle-fights)

And it’s true, it does feel like these last two years have gone by quickly. . . for the most part. Except, of course, for the days and nights that seemed to drag on forever. The interminable winter months of ear infection upon cold upon ear infection, and all the disrupted sleep that goes with them. No one talks about those long nights and cranky, groggy days when they reflect on how quickly their children are growing up. This is understandable – they don’t want to sound selfish or ungrateful; like they can’t put up with a little sleep deprivation for the sake of their children. It’s easy to focus instead on how amazing this time is, how quickly it passes.

This time is amazing, and you have brought so much happiness into our lives. You smile almost constantly; you are cheerful and easygoing and really funny. I want to tell you all of that, over and over until you’re sick of hearing it.

So forgive me and all the clichés, Peanut. And forgive me for publicly stating that you have made me tired, more tired than I had ever imagined possible. Obviously, I think it was worth it.

Happy 2nd Birthday Jackster!

seriously?

Sex Doll Jackets.... seriously?
www.cityrag.com/main/2009/03/sex-doll-jackets.html

smart people

Just came across this article on jezebel.com about how cognitive functioning apparently drops off after the age of twenty-seven. So that is great news for me, turning the big 3-0 last year — it’s a wonder I can even put on pants every morning!
Anyway, as I skimmed it (twenty-two-year-olds smartest; people over twenty-seven struggle more with reasoning, speed of thought, etc. . . .) it occurred to me, just based on a non-scientific sampling of friends of mine:
Most of the people we know who have kids are twenty-seven or older. . . Hmm. I would say this declining mental capacity seems to correlate pretty closely with the onset of parenthood, at least for many people I know.
No wonder twenty-seven-and-olders are struggling with reasoning and speed of thought — they are sleep-deprived and constantly distracted. I mean, DUH. Or something. I forget. I’m tired and old.

an almond theme - part 2

Giant Almond Crumb Cookie (severs 4)

Ingredients:
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature, plus more for pan
1 1/2 cups finely ground (5 1/4 ounces) blanched almonds
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon table salt
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 10-inch springform pan; set aside. In a large bowl, whisk almonds, flour, sugar, salt, and vanilla. Cut in butter with a pastry cutter until mixture is crumbly. Work in butter until completely incorporated with no dry crumbs.

Transfer all but 1 1/2 cups of mixture to pan. Press mixture into pan to compress dough.

Sprinkle with reserved 1 1/2 cups of mixture; transfer to oven.

Bake, rotating pan two to three times, until cookie begins to turn golden, about 25 minutes. Reduce temperature to 300 degrees. bake until golden brown and fairly dry, 15 to 20 minutes more. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Remove from pan. Store in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Almond Cookies (makes 28)

To toast almonds, preheat oven to 350 degrees. On a rimmed baking sheet, toast almonds until lightly golden and fragrant, about 6 minutes. Remove from sheet; let cool completely.

Ingredients:
1 cup whole blanched almonds, toasted (see note, above)
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1 large whole egg, plus 1 large egg white
1 teaspoon finely grated orange zest
3/4 teaspoon almond extract (optional)
1 cup all-purpose flour (spooned and leveled)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees, with racks in upper and lower thirds. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Reserve about 28 almonds (1/4 cup) for garnish. Place remaining almonds in a food processor; pulse just until finely ground (do not overprocess). Set aside.

With an electric mixer, beat butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add whole egg, orange zest, and almond extract (if using), scraping down sides of bowl as necessary; beat until smooth. In another bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt. Gradually add dry ingredients to the butter mixture, beating just until incorporated. Mix in ground almonds (do not overmix).

Using 1 level tablespoon per cookie, roll dough into balls. Place on prepared sheets, at least 1 inch apart. Using the floured end of a thick wooden spoon handle (or your thumb), press lightly in the center of each cookie. Place an almond in each indentation. In a small bowl, lightly beat egg white with 1 teaspoon water; brush over cookies.

Bake, rotating sheets halfway through, until golden brown, 12 to 15 minutes. Let cool slightly; transfer cookies to a wire rack to cool completely.


part 1