Filed under: *whinge*, Dewicate feewings, family, God Stuff, Good grief, Oh for Pete's Sake, oh HELL no!
Something died in the bushes. Several days ago, from the smell of it. Terry looked, and can’t find it. I can’t open the windows at that end of the house because the aroma is…well…aromatic. Thank God I’m not having a tea party or Bible Study, because from the intensity, we’re not talking about a dead bird. This is a possum-sized stench. It’s the perfect weather for opening windows and turning on ceiling fans, and yet…Does it choose to die at the end of the house where the bedrooms are? Where it doesn’t really matter if the windows are closed? Of course not. It dies under the dining room windows,and at the end that receives breezes into the kitchen and living room. Where it matters. We should have removed those overgrown bushes a year ago.
There’s a Bible verse “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength, and according to His purpose.” But honestly, I don’t think I can do that. I don’t think God wants me to. I think instead, I’ll leave it to The Big Strong Men, and when I get back from my few days away, either it will be dead enough that it doesn’t smell anymore, or they will have dealt with it. To those of you in my household reading this, this is not permission to ignore it until it goes away, because it is big enough that it will not go away anytime soon. Deal with it please, and I will be effusive in my thanks, say things that will boost your masculine egos, and call you stuff like “Big Strong Man” and “My Heeero” and all that. please.
So I went to this thing last night with Terry. It turns out the local Chamber of Commerce calls the group “The Mafia” because they meet at a Super Seekrit Place with the innocuous name of The Pond House….you have to understand that in the South, anyone with a little bit of land and a hole in the ground owns a Pond House (because to own a Lake House would require a lake), so there’s The Hodge’s Pond House and the DeLoach Pond House and the (insert name of someone with a little bit of land and a hole in the ground) Pond House. Normally they meet at the (elusive and I’d have to blindfold you to take you there) Pond House, but one of the owners of Brodie Meter has his own Pond House and wanted to host it there (probably for neferious tax purposes or something), anyway, we didn’t get to go to the Regular (have to blindfold you) Pond House, but everyone agreed that this one was nicer than the regular one.
When we got there the first thing I spied (other than a group of 20 men and one woman) was a table with cokes and several bottles of bourbon, including Jack Daniels which made me happy. I fixed a drink for Terry and me, and commenced to chatting about stuff I knew nothing about, but could be convincing because I had a JD& coke. A few other people showed up with their wives, and we (the wives) congregated and laughed at the elusive Pond House and how all the men seemed to agree that we would have to be blindfolded if we wanted to see it. I opined that there were topless waitresses and salacious posters on the walls, and one man overheard me. He was quick to reassure me that none such existed, as they couldn’t afford it.
This is a group of local industry leaders, all men with the exception of one woman and her weasel of a husband who was there as a spouse. Ok, I don’t like stereotypes, as I prefer to take people as individuals before I typecast them, but this woman defined the term “ballbuster.” Her husband walked a meek 2 steps behind, and was all “yes dear” all evening long. If it weren’t so funny to me, it would have been sad.
At one point, I was talking to another wife, about wifey things like kids, etc, and a fellow came up. He said to her “Act like I’m saying something shocking, then look at your husband and laugh.” She said “what?” and I said “can I laugh too?” and he said, “Just look shocked and laugh.” so we did. The husband looked over and we were giggling and staring at him. He got nervous and was all “what?!” and checking his fly and stuff. Then he came over and said “I don’t know what he told you but he’s a lier.” The wife patted his arm and said “it’s ok honey, I love you anyway.” Which only made him twitch a little more.
It’s a nice group of people, except perhaps for the ballbuster, because she would troll the room, talking to the wives and find out what they did, mainly housewives, schoolteachers, y’know, feminine occupations (traditionally speaking), sneer a little and move on, husband in tow, holding her drink and refilling her pile of cashews.
Y’know, honestly, I have no issues with women being in positions of power. I think it’s necessary and if you have the ambition and drive to do it, go for it. But when you do, don’t look down on us who choose service type careers. That’s tacky. If you’re so insecure in your upper-management position that you have to seek affirmation by denigrating people like me, perhaps you should reevaluate your priorities.
All in all it was a pleasant evening. We ate some really good food, and learned what Georgia Power is doing about increasing electricity production in the state (building 2 nuclear power plants), and I got to put faces to the names of people Terry talks about, and tell the guy who arranges these things how much I appreciated being included, because I had become deeply suspicious of the monthly meetings in the (have to blindfold you ) Pond House. As I was thanking him, his wife informed me that even *she* didn’t know where that Pond House was, and they only lived 5 minutes from it.
Oh and my clothes? That I was nervous about? Just right. A denim skirt, striped shirt, flat shoes. For once, I got it right.
Filed under: Uncategorized
tonight, we have this Industry Leaders meeting, a once a month booze and steak-fest that normally spouses aren’t invited to, but for some inscrutible reason, Brodie Meter (this month’s host) decided to invite spouses (mostly women, because it is The South, and men are mostly the Industry Leaders around here.) I asked Terry about protocol, and do I need to wear my pearls or what. He said no, it was at a Lake House place. I gasped and said THE POND HOUSE? THE FAMOUS AND ELUSIVE POND HOUSE? Oh no, he replied, not there, a different one. So I asked if it was because the famous and elusive pond house was a Man Cave, were there topless waitresses and symbols of Patriarchal Oppression abounding? No, he replied, not that, only sometimes Sam Jr was prone to taking his shirt off when grilling the steaks, and he supposed in some circles that could be considered oppressive. I was disappointed, as I really wanted to see The Pond House. He promised to take me there one day. but he’d have to blindfold me first.
So I’m picking through my limited wardrobe, trying to put together something that wouldn’t make Terry look like he keeps his wife on a short tether. If only I’d gotten those pants hemmed, they’d be perfect. If only I had a pair of heels, to wear with the pants so they wouldn’t have to be hemmed. Trying to find something I don’t have to iron. Wishing I were Eva Longoria so I could wear rumpled linen and get away with it. He doesn’t keep me on a short tether, I just don’t like to fuss with clothes, and I wish I had a pair of pants that didn’t involve elastic.
Oh well, off to the closet, to consider the options.
Filed under: Uncategorized
The pug absolutely incapacitates me.
Filed under: *eep!, Dewicate feewings, family, God Stuff, Good grief, He'p meh He'p meh Oh Lawzy He'p meh, kids, oh HELL no!
So, #4 and I were sitting on the porch before the bus came, and the topic of bugs came up.
“What’s the name of the scientist who studies bugs?” he asked.
Ummm….I thought, thinking… because I hadn’t had my second cuppa coffee yet….”Entymologists” I answered.
Then I told him the story of friends we had back in Auburn, and how he was an entymologist at AU who specialized in cockroaches, and how if you went into their house, they had this fake roach the size of…I dunno…a small sofa…on the wall of their kitchen, and how every time I saw it my heart jumped and I had to take a few breaths, because I have this THING about roaches…rats, snakes, spiders, no problem…but roaches send me over the edge.
Once, right after we married and were living in a somewhat roach infested student apartment, Terry heard me scream and found me sitting on the dining table, shuddering my delicate Southern self because I’d attempted to wash the dishes and a roach crawled across my hand.
Anyway, we discussed roaches, and #4 postulated that one could inject a roach with nuclear waste and make them grow as big as that fake one on our friend’s wall. I opined that it would be a bad thing to do, because then it would reproduce and we’d soon be covered up with sofa-sized roach zombies. Well, that lead to descriptions of movie plots:Redneck Nuclear Roach Zombies of the Sawgrass. or something.
I decided right then if that ever happened, I’d just lay down right there and die. Just absolutely DIE. Right there.
“But Mom, then you’d have roaches munching on your backbone” (this from the child who almost exclusively watched Veggie Tales when he was younger, be careful what your children watch on TV, people.). I told him that since I was dead, I wouldn’t care, but I would have to be really dead first.
That conversation led to the pondering of the usefulness of bugs. I explained that God made bugs, and so they had a purpose, even if we couldn’t tell what it was. He responded with the popular concept that when God made the world, there were bits of clay left over and he, like parents do with pie crust rags, gave them to his angels to play with, thus the existence of oddities like a platypus or a star-nosed mole.
“maybe that’s where mosquitoes and wasps come from.” #4 said.
“well then,” I replied, “I bet Lucifer made wasps and mosquitoes, because even tho he was one of God’s right-hand angels, he probably already had a mean streak.”
“So wasps and mosquitoes are from the Devil ya think?” he asked.
Absolutely. RV Creationism 2.0
Filed under: Uncategorized
Ok the boys have been laughing to tears over this for YEARS.
you know what’s great about being boring and non-controversial? I can sneak into someone else’s blog, someone who has a habit of stirring up a wasps nest, and comment there, continuing to stir things up, then when the offended parties come here and read about dogs and cheese straws, they get bored and wander off. It’s like getting to wear different hats or something. No one ever stirs up shi…er…stuff here, because I’m just so gosh-darned squeaky clean! *haw*
Filed under: food
Over here I wrote about blue cheese straws. I think a bit back I wrote about cheddar cheese straws, then updated the concept with blue cheese straws. I am back to the cheddar concept only with a few flavor enhancements.
Here’s the foundational recipe:
1 stick softened butter
2 cups extra sharp cheddar cheese, shredded fine
1-1/2 cup flour
2 teaspoons hot sauce
Mix the butter and cheese in a food processor with a blade. Add the flour and whiz until it makes a soft homogenous dough. Pat out to about 1/4 inch thick and cut into strips, or roll into a log and slice into coins. Bake on a greased cookie sheet at 300 degrees for 25 minutes or so. Do not let them cool in the sheet as they’ll stick.
Ok, these are tasty and expeditious. And since I am incapable of leaving well enough alone, I fiddled with the recipe today. Jerseychick had pondered the feasibility of using sesame oil, and I wondered about liquid smoke, as I am fond of smoked cheddar.
So, take the above recipe. I replaced the hot sauce with 1/2 tsp dried ground chipotle, because it was right there next to the liquid smoke and I didn’t feel like digging in the fridge for the elusive hot sauce.
I halved the recipe, and in 1 half, added 1/4 teaspoon of toasted sesame oil. It’s potent stuff, best used as a flavoring and not a heavy ingredient. In the other half I added a few (maybe 3 or 4?) shots of liquid smoke. It’s also potent, and only takes a dab.
They are David Approved, and he’s quite a gourmand. The smokey ones are my favorite, but the sesame is good, I’m thinking maybe the thing to do would be to press some seeds into the dough to give it more crunch. Next time. I may, next time, make 3/4 regular dough, and 1/4 smokey dough, and make a log with a strip of smokey up the middle (perhaps color it with a drop of red or something). I am also trying to figure out how to jazz up the sesame thing. A dash of garlic, perhaps? I wonder if feta would work, with some lemon peel, because feta has about the same texture as blue cheese and it worked great!
I think tonight (because it’s cold and damp) requires a pot of homemade chicken chowder to accompany the cheese sticks. It’s a family favorite, and Paula Deen would be proud because I don’t get all precious with the butter and cream.
4 chicken breasts, cut into chunks
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 or 4 (or maybe 5) cloves of garlic, minced
3 cups of good chicken stock (oh you know…one of those cartons is fine. Don’t measure, just use a carton)
some thyme- I use 3 or 4 stems about 3 inches long of fresh, but I’m thinking 1/2 teaspoon of dried would work
Heat the oil in a large pot and brown the chicken. Brown it good, so there’s crusty bits. Add the onion, cook until the onion starts to brown a bit too, then add the garlic, cook another couple of minutes, stirring, and add the stock. Cover with a lid and simmer while you:
peel 4 potatoes and cut into chunks.
salt and pepper to taste (I like a nice coarse pepper, freshly ground, but I’m stuck up that way), or white pepper, which is the Low Country way.
Add to the stuff in the pot.
When the potatoes are about done, close your eyes and pour white wine in to a count of three like “1…2…3″ or Low Country you’d use dry sherry. I never have sherry so white wine it is.
Then pour in a pint of half and half and simmer DON’T BOIL. Boiling makes the texture weird and kind of curdly.
If you’re wanting it thicker, make you up a nice roux in a small skillet or pot, and stir that in back when you add the stock. Here’s how to you that:
in a small pot or skillet (I said that already, right…), put in 1/4 cup butter and melt it. Then add 1/4 cup flour and stir on low heat until it starts to brown and smell toasty. The darker brown it is (and you’ll really want it on LOW heat or it will scorch in a New York Minute) the toastier the flavor. If you were making something like Gumbo, you’d want it the color of a penny, but since you’re making a chowder, you may not want it that dark. so, toasty tan and smelling lovely, and stir it into the stock mixture before you add the cream and taters.
The day has turned cold and rainy. I had fantastic news from a friend, and all the quilts and curtains are in the laundry. When your 10 yr old notices the dust, you know it’s time to wash. I’m thinking the rest of the day may be spent in the studio, with the clay and the glitter and shiny beads. Chicken is on the menu tonight, and given the cold and the rain, it may turn into something really warm and filling, a casserole perhaps, or maybe a stew. I’ll think about it while pounding the clay.
Update from Jerseychick: Her #2 is doing so well she may get to go home from the hospital tomorrow! (that swirly thing people do with widgets)