Filed under: food
More soup, from the aformentioned chicken stock recipe. Because it’s cold and I like soup.
2 tbls vegetable oil
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 poblano peppers, diced
1 tbls minced garlic (say, 2 big cloves)
Sautee the onion in the oil in a large pot. When the onion is soft, add the pepper and garlic and sautee a bit more, then add
4 cups chicken stock
1-14 oz can diced tomatoes
1 can black beans
1 tsp toasted ground cumin (information at the end)
1 tsp dried oregano
Bring to a boil, turn down to a simmer, and add
4 boneless chicken breasts, whole
Cook until the chicken is quite done, and take the chicken out of the pot. Shred up the chicken with a fork and put it in a separate bowl.
add 2 tablespoons of lime juice to the soup and stir in well.
Serve the soup with the chicken, shredded monterey jack cheese, diced avocado and chopped fresh cilantro. Also serve toasted tortilla strips to put on top.
Toasted tortilla strips
Roll up a couple of flour tortilla and lice them into thin strips. Spread on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees until they start to turn brown.
Buy your cumin in the whole seed. Ground cumin is almost always stale and lacks the punch of freshly ground. Toast it in a dry skillet over low heat until you can smell it, it has a wonderful earthy aroma. Let it cool then grind it in a mortar/pestle or a coffee grinder. Just toast up as much as you need for a day or two. Store it in the freezer, and it won’t go stale. You can also grind it with a peppermill if it’s adjustable, and set it on the finest grind position.
It’s a title I’ve embraced. If anyone asks what I do, I say “I’m a housewife”. Not a homemaker or Stay at Home Mom. Housewife. With Apron, mop, rolling pin.
Pawn of the Patriarchy, Prostitute, Oppressed, Slave
Yeah right. I’m nobody’s pawn, nor prostitute (at least, no one’s paid me yet), nor oppressed. Not a slave, not a servant. More like…Chief Operating Officer.
Terry says this:
“I’m the one who decides if we have sex.
She’s the one who decides when.”
You what I think is funny is this politically correct reaction to finding out I’m a housewife. (ahem, assume slightly condescending tone) “Oh well you already have a full time job! 4 boys! My goodness you’re busy!”
well no, not really. 2 of them don’t live here anymore. One of them lives here but is entirely self maintaining, and one of them is in school all day. I can get the day’s chores done by 10 am, unless something really unusual comes up. In fact, I pretty much have my leisure from 10 am until 3:30 or 4, when I start supper, but even that is more of a fun thing than a chore.
So spare me your politically correct noises about what a sacrifice I’ve made to be a housewife, and how I’m just the busy little bee because truly? I’m lazy. I do it because the idea of having to get up at 6 am, get dressed in panty hose and fix my hair while getting us all breakfast and packing lunches blah etc..well that just doesn’t fly. Nope. I get up at 5am, spend some time just me and God, then fix breakfast and lunches and get everyone else off while I’m still in my bathrobe. Then maybe I’ll get dressed and start on a chore or two. Maybe not. Maybe the floors can wait until tomorrow or next week. The closet/black hole isn’t going anywhere either. Maybe I’ll park in the chair with a fresh pot of coffee brewing and spend an hour or two or three (or holy cow is it 2:30 ALREADY?) on the computer, or watching TV, because people I. Am. Lazy.
Now if something that has to be done comes up, I’m there. Lets say there’s an insurance issue. I’m there to call the agent and ask her to handle it. Maybe #4 throws up at school, I’m there to go get him, give him a bucket and put him in his room. He knows how to clean it up because, people, I do NOT like barf. That’s how I see my job. It’s as much about cooking breakfast and making sure we have cheese as it is about being available. I’m On Call.
It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to do it.
I also feel like I did my tour of duty. 3 children in 3-1/2 years and yes I was busy. Now it’s my time. They didn’t go to daycare so I could work. They were 24/6 (they went to daycare one day a week so I could buy groceries, do a Bible study, have lunch with Terry…I packed as much as I could in that one day a week). Being around 3 needy kids 24 hrs a day…that, people, is WORK. Then I got all silly and had another one. I wouldn’t trade him for all the inventory of Williams-Sonoma, but it did set me back about 8 years.
Yeah, sometimes I think it would be great to be doing something and get paid for it. I think I’d make a great secretary, or personal assistant. but I’d have to be able to set my own hours. Like that’s going to happen.
So, my job? It’s to keep things going smoothly here. Not a tough one really, since pretty much everyone is healthy and all. My job is to make this a place Terry looks forward to coming home to in the evening, where he can set aside the shit of the day and put up his feet, eat a good meal, and rest. To be a Housewife.