It was her first day at her new job. You know how those go; your nervous, you don’t know anyone, your pretty sure you’ll never remember everyone’s name, that sort of thing. It doesn’t help matters that she is young; all of 20 years old.
Her new co-worker and unbeknownst to her soon to be good friend and her went to the cafeteria for lunch that day. This was not your ordinary staff lunch room. This was a cafeteria. It served some of the best pancakes in all of Washington State. A little known fact that only those that worked at Sea-Tac Airport knew.
She stood in line behind a tall dark haired man with gorgeous blue eyes who looked down at her and said, “Hi”
“Hi”
“This must be your first day”.
“Yes”
“Welcome to Host” He said. Turned out that Host International was the company where they both worked. It consisted of an in-flight kitchen (yes, all the nasty airplane food was put on the planes by them. Back, of course, when airlines served food.), duty-free shops and regular shops in the airport terminal.
“Are you working in accounting with Judy?” He asked conversationally.
“Yes, I’m the new payroll clerk”.
“So I need to be nice to you”.
“That would be a pretty good idea”. They both laughed a little at that.
“Would you like to go to a soccer game on Saturday?” He asked.
“Like a date?” Nobody said she was the brightest bulb in the socket.
“Yeah, like a date”. He must have thought she was an idiot.
“I don’t know. Can I bring my husband?”
Those beautiful blue eyes blinked a couple of times; he shifted his feet and flushed a little. It was cute she thought. She had definitely caught him off guard.
“Sure, why not”. He finally said.
“No, I don’t think so but thank you anyway”, she let him off the hook.
They became very good friends, hung out with all their other co-worker friends and generally spent time together. After awhile he would see her through her painful divorce, shepherd her through the process of getting back on her feet, and eventually becoming a vital part of her existence. Twenty nine years later he is still her best friend, the one she wants to hang out with, and a vital part of her existence.
Its Tuesday ya'll and you know what that means. I’m going to be random again. Keely's the master of ceremonies for this little shindig so when you get done here check out her and all the others that play along. Oh, and when I say check out I don't mean "check out". There will be no ogling of bloggers. Unless they want to be. Ask nicely.
I’m going to be using Texas idioms today because I wanna. So ya’ll will be reading words like ya’ll and shindig. I’ll drop the “g’s” and combine words like "don’t you" into “don’tcha”. Just an FYI. I don’t rightly know whether I’ll get all of them right but I only have my learning permit. It will be fun to see how the spell check will act (I really just want to screw with it). Those of you Texans out there I’ll say sorry now.
In two weeks I’ve got right us’ ta being asked if I want help with getting my groceries to the car. Havin’ the door opened for me. Hearin’ please and thank you. Havin’ drivers use their turn signals as they were intended to be used. They’re just so dangum polite. It’s just plain embarrassin’ for the people of the western states; is just what it is.
Big house + no furniture = a pain in my butt. The floor is hard and I can't seemta make a decision.
I had the cable hooked up on Saturday and the refrigerator installed on Sunday. Guess which one I was most happy to see. No, not the refrigerator. The cable. Red wine does not need to be refrigerated.
I best be leavin’ for work. Though I can pretty much come and go as I want I don’t want to take advantage.
Well, you asked for it. I asked my friend if she would graciously write the back story about the photo I put up on Wednesday. Two good things came out of this; 1. you all get her story and 2. I get to be lazy. Win-win as far as I'm concerned. I'll be very interested in what you have to say and so will my friend.
Her Life had been devoted to her profession but all along the way, it had been rich and complex and . . . well, plain fun.She had had her share of uproarious laughter, outrageous moments and even a few miracles.She had never looked over her shoulder and had never looked back.
But, then her Life changed:a new direction in her profession led to dramatic differences.Every one knew Her and her business.She became “an example.”It forced Her to become cloistered, closed and isolated.Every professional minute gave Her the opportunity to develop, to create and to give in new found ways.But, it drained her life blood, running cold on the ground.
A trip to Greece seemed to have the trappings of divine intervention.A condo opened up for the deal of the century.A last minute change of plans brought Her old friend and associate, Kay, along, a much needed chance for her too to get away from the constant trials and tribulations of her family – including three teens – and work.But, She three goals were 1) to be anonymous; 2) to see things older than she; and 2) to see a Greek God.Truly, it was to find herself finding herself once again. She and Kay dubbed the trip “Oprah and Gail Go White.”
At the airport, they looked at each other with raised eyebrows when “Agent Frivolous” was paged to report to their gate.They silently squirmed when the two hour delay was announced.Waiting for time to pass, Kay broached the subject:the Professional lived with blinders on and it created isolation.Oh, She could be warm and interactive with the woman at the airline counter, the baggage claim guy, the cabbie or even the deli boy at the grocery counter.But, She never saw the good looking guy in the green sweater who watched her.Kay caught it but She didn’t.“Hey, where did She go?You know, the old you that caught eyes and held them?I’m calling you ‘Agent Oblivious’ on this trip.”And so, a bastardized form of aversion therapy began.“Every time you miss someone looking at you . . . and I don’t just mean the deli boy . . . I am going to hit you in the head with a frying pan.”By the time they boarded, “Agent Oblivious” had four lumps.
They were in trouble before the jet left the tarmack.Kay bought single serving wine-bottles-with-plastic-glasses-attached at a kiosk near the gate and served fellow passengers, creating a stir (if not a downright fight) among stewardesses who differed in opinions on the matter.They laughed until they snorted.And, She talked to a perfect stranger most of the night while Kay “breathed deeply.”Kay thought Her therapy was progressing.
No part of Greece was off limits.They were adventurous and marvelous traveling companions.Their backs and stomachs hurt so badly one morning, the result of too much laughter the night before.One night, they had a brief marriage to Mr. Ouzo followed by a nasty divorce the next morning, vowing never to see him againFor hours, they walked in olive groves to ruins and through the city streets to the Acropolis and the Temple of Zeus.They stood on stones moved by the ancient Minoans and they were awed.They did indeed see things older than they were.
One night they sat outside a restaurant in an ancient Harbor city.And, Kay flailed her feet at Her chins, kicking the air.“There is the most handsome man we’ve seen in Greece walking with his friends.”Between chomps, She looked at the tall, dark man.But, when he turned his head toward her, Her eyes dropped to the “grilled platter” before her.They strolled by again and he looked at Her.She caught it out of the corner of her eye.
When Kay went to the “water closet”, the three walked by one more time and he stopped, faced Her, caught her eyes and held them.She smiled, an old and familiar smile of the past.She dropped her fork. It clanged to her plate.The three walked off, Kay returned, the bill was paid, and She and Kay started walking in the Harbor to their car.The three passed the two.And, She missed it.Kay was threatening to get out the frying pan while she looked over her shoulder.“For God’s sake, Turn Around.Turn Around!”And, She did.
He was walking backwards looking at Her.And, then She was walking backwards looking at him as he came running forward looking at Her.He caught up and outreached his hand and told her his name.The “therapist,” Kay, kicked in to coach “You can do better than that.”He kissed her cheeks.“Please don’t go.Please stay with me and be my guests in the Harbor this evening.”Feeling as if She were in the Sahara, She declined with the driest mouth ever.Oh, the sweet adrenalin rush of long ago.He took out a pen to write his number on Her hand.“Please call me.Please. Tomorrow.”
She and Kay walked to the car.Desperate to find her own pen in the bottom of her purse, Kay dumped the contents on the car floor.“Your palms are sweaty.You’ll never get the right number if you touch that steering wheel.Don’t you dare touch that steering wheel.”So, Kay wrote on a scrap of the Hertz contract “[His Name], [number], the Greek God.”Kay referred to those moments as the lightning bolt of Zeus, parting the Heavens and charging the air.And, Kay was right.
Old feelings . . . strange and unfamiliar . . . were stirred.The next day, Her hand trembled as she punched the numbers on the telephone pad.They planned to meet in the Harbor.When She was late, lingering too long at a ruin, she apologized at first meeting him.He told her he was happy - even though she was late - because he was waiting for Her. And, they met the next day.And, the next.And, the next. . . .
Kay was the ever present chaperone.The last day, then he asked Kay if he could have dinner alone with the woman who had both stopped him cold in the Harbor and warmed his heart.Ever thoughtful, he made plans for Kay:a Harbor restaurant was owned by his friend.Kay would spend time in the kitchen with the Chef and dine there.After all, after having been drug through the markets, he knew they loved to cook.Both women had the times of their lives that night.
Upon parting for God-knows-how-many-days-or-months, She cried: tears, held for too long, ran down her cheeks and ran hot onto the ground.He told Her “Every time you smile, I am called forward in your heart.Smile every minute in America.”
At AthensAirport, he called to talk, not with Her but with Kay.“Kay, I know you have worried about our friend.About her loneliness.You have wanted for her a partner.You need look no further.Promise me you will not look any more.”All She heard was Kay say with tears in her eyes, “I promise.”
They came back to America.She came back to work.“What goes in Greece, stays in Greece” was their mantra.Every one noticed She was different, something new about her.They were wrong:she was only renewed.
Now, every day at 4:00 p.m. the telephone rings.It begins with “Good afternoon, sweet.How is your day in America?”And, ends with “Sweet Dreams to you in Greece.”
What do you think? Quite a vacation, huh?
I'll be back tomorrow with my typical inane blather. See you then.
I'll be out for a few days. I've moved into the new place and am waiting impatiently for the Comcast service individual (don't want to be gender specific here). So unless I can find some (stupid/gullible) generous neighbor with un-password protected wireless, I'll be out of commission for a while. Probably, not a good idea to blog at the new job.
Just a bit of this and that brought to you by the fabulousness that is Keely. Check out her and her friends out. It will be well worth your time. Seriously, would I lead you astray. Okay, yeah I probably would. I tend to do that to friends. Only because I love them.
Speaking of leading people astray. My buddy Julie (who sometimes comments & who I have featured as a Fairy Princess for her birthday last year, check it out.) had never had a Cosmopolitan before she met me. By following my lead she now knows what her Cosmo limit is. Valuable information for anyone. I'm only trying to be the best friend that I can possibly be!
And speaking of Cosmopolitans, Kroger has a cranberry lime juice cocktail. They have combined two of the ingredients in a Cosmo. Were they thinking of me when they came up with that? I only have to add vodka and triple sec. Woo Yah! Lazy & yummy. (no that is not what JR calls me but he could if he had thought of it) None of the pesky squeezing of limes anymore. Seems to me that this proves, without a doubt, that there are rational thoughtful people in the grocery store industry.
And speaking of industries (stay with me now), what is it with Blogger? My reader is telling me that I'm not following any blogs. (WTF?) Clearly this is a serious error on their part because I am following more blogs than I care to admit (you all know who you are since I stalk publicly). What is Blogger trying to do to me? Make me crazy? How am I going to lovingly stalk all my favorite people? Come on Blogger get your act together.
And speaking of getting your act together, I just downloaded Skype (okay, so I'm behind on the whole technology front) at the request of my friend Terry. We had a nice little conversation . It was terrific. I quasi felt like I was sitting in her office chatting with her. Didn't even have to use any cell minutes. Then the next day we had a video call for 3 hours. It was like sitting in each others place, drinking wine, chatting about nothing, and keeping the loneliness at bay.
And speaking of loneliness, it will only be 4 more weeks before JR moves to TX. He is busy packing, working, and generally holding down the fort in AZ. What did I do to deserve him? Well, whatever it was I need to keep doing it.
I'm thinking that's about all for me. The weather is crappy, I need to go to the store for more wine (I drank the last of my lovely Pinot last night), and the chair in my unpretentious (yeah, that's a euphemism) hotel is getting to be a pain in my butt. No, seriously, my butt is killing me.
The 20 year old woman and the 26 year old man stood on the car deck level of the ferry as it chugged across the Puget Sound. It was a cool overcast spring day in Seattle. Not unusual.
“I’m leaving soon to go to art school in Italy” he said, pitching his voice to be heard over the ship's engines. He could do that really well. As a part time actor pitching his voice to be heard in the balcony was second nature to him.
“That’s very exciting and a great idea. You’ll be terrific” she said, standing a little in front of him, trying to get out of the wind a bit. “I’ll miss you”.
And, she would miss him. He had been a ray of sunshine in what had become the sea of grey in her life. They were friends not lovers. She was still married, not happily, but still married all the same. That distinction was important to her.
He was an artist; interesting and exciting. From the moment she meet him the year before she was instantly smitten but that wasn’t unexpected. She tended to fall for the artist types. She always said that she may not be artistic but she could spot someone who was a mile away. If an artist was in the room she would be drawn to him or her.
“I want you to come with me. No, let me finish. Your marriage is not going well, we both know it, come on, he has pretty much abandoned you, and you don’t like your work. Come with me”.
“I can’t afford a trip like that”. Secretly thrilled that he would even ask but shaking inside at the prospect of going.
“It won’t cost you a thing. I’ll pay for everything”. He could afford it. As the trust fund baby of one of the founding families of the city of Seattle he had spent all of his life knowing that money was really never an issue. She was the product of a middle class family from the burbs. Though he was never arrogant about it, she just really couldn’t understand his lack of concern for money.
“What will I do?”
“You can do whatever you want, wander through the streets taking pictures or taking care of the house, cooking, learning Italian, you name it. You’d be my mistress”. He said, gently pushing her windblown hair off her cheek.
“Mistress? What exactly would that include?” Mistress, it was such an old fashion word. This was the early 80s no one used that word anymore. She was a little confused about what a mistress actually did, with the exception of one thing. She knew what that was. That was the easy part.
“Pretty much keeping my house running smoothly and me content”.
“Uh” She was speechless. This was coming out of the blue. How does one respond to a proposition like this? “Can I sleep on it and get back to you?”
“Absolutely, darlin’”
They finished their ferry ride, walked along the beach on the island, picnicked with a bottle of wine and made their way home. In perfect companionship. They were like that. Never having uncomfortable silences because they were friends.
All the while her mind was racing. Should I go? How will I deal with my husband? What if a year or two from now he gets tired of me too, how will I get home? Envisions of being abandoned in Italy sounded so much worse than being abandoned in my own hometown. However will I get the nerve to call my mom from Italy to ask for money to get back home? Can I deal with the yearlong icy silent treatment that my mom will treat me to if I have to I have to call her for money? How can I pass up the opportunity to spend what could be possibly be a couple of years of a paid vacation? Funny, how the idea of actually being kept by a man never really was a problem for her. I could do this? No, I can’t.
She didn’t go. They kept in touch for a while. He stayed in Europe for 10 or 15 years, built a terrific career as a sculptor, married, had a couple of kids and moved to Charlottesville, VA. She divorced, remarried, had a couple of kids, built a terrific career and moved to Houston, TX.
Did she make the right decision?
P.S. Later, when she told her mother about this proposal her mother had the nerve to say: “You passed that up? What did I raise an idiot?”
I haven't cooked all week unless you call nuking a frozen entree cooking; which by the way, I don't. Sorry all of you that do but for me cooking requires pots, pans, multiple ingredients, detailed instructions, booze, and a fairly good size mess for JR to clean up.
As you all know, I'm hold up in a hotel room of which the amenities include a microwave, a 2 burner cooktop, cheap aluminum pots that I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole, no spices (the horror), and a spatula. That's right, a SINGLE spatula (This is so wrong that there ought to be a law. that's all I have to say). Let's not forget the corkscrew (I bought it yesterday when my new BFF from the wine shop help me find a wonderful Pinot) but there is really only so much I can to with it and trust me, I already have (I opened the Pinot, Gawd, get your mind out of the gutter).
Now, I could recycle an earlier food post that some of you may have not seen but really BORING! Or, I could find something online that I think you all may like but that just doesn't seem right. Plus, you are all more than smart enough to find a recipe online that sounds good to you.
What does that leave? Not a hell of a lot, recipe wise.
Let's talk about herbs a bit instead. It's spring (In North America. Mum-Me, my Aussie friend, I think you'll have to wait awhile). Time to plant those herbs or to buy those starts at the nursery. There are several herbs that can be grown and dried (marijuana will not be on the list of herbs that can be grown and dried. Not that it can't be just that I don't want anyone to get in trouble. The Feds get really pissy about the whole pot thing. Ahhhh......the fond memories of the 70s). Oops, back to the matter at hand.
There are many herbs that are easy to grow and best used fresh. Parsley, cilantro, basil, rosemary, lavender, and tarragon are the ones that I have always had good luck with;
Parsley (the flat leaf stuff): plant from seed. A couple of months later you'll have plenty of parsley. When you need some trim to within an inch of the soil, clean, and use. Yummy! Also makes a great breath freshener. Don't let it flower or it will get bitter. At the end of the season cut it all down to within an inch of the soil, loop a rubber band around the stems, hang upside down in a cool dry place. I've used a dehydrator to do this also.
Cilantro: follow the same instructions as parsley. Cilantro is the leaf of the coriander plant. It is used in Chinese and Mexican recipes. We love this stuff in rice.
Basil: There must be a dozen different varieties of basil out there in seed form. I'll eat any and all of them. Plant from seed. Start using as soon as the plant gets big enough that you can cut off all but about 2 sets of leaves. Do not let it flower. Basil can be dried but I prefer to make pesto and freeze it in ice cube trays. When totally frozen place into ziptop bags to use during the winter. In Phoenix my plants grew year round. Sweet!
Rosemary: Is a hardy plant that will grow year round in most places. Those of you in the far north woods may have to put it in a pot and protect it during the winter. You can cut it into long spears, hang like you do for parsley. Personally I never really dry it. I was just use bits of it throughout the year. It makes great spears for shish kabobs. Cut approximately 10 inch pieces, soak in water for 10 to 20 minutes, spear meat, veggies, or fruit. Brush with olive oil and grill. Serve to gratified family who will think you are terribly clever.
Lavender: When I think lavender I think cookies but it has many other uses. It is very similar to rosemary. You can use the flowers and leaves. Go easy with this stuff though. If you use too much it's like eating a flower arrangement. Makes great kabobs. Need lavender recipes? Let me know I'll post some. Plant this from a start. I use it fresh. Though I've dried it, put it into mesh bags and placed it in the panty drawer. Awesome smelling stuff.
Tarragon: Tarragon is the BFF of chicken and fish. Sort of has a licorice flavor. This stuff grows like a weed. Wait, most herbs are weeds. Dries well, store in air tight container. Don't know what to do with it? Again, just let me know.
There are plenty more but these are the ones that I've had the best luck with. Give growing your own (we used to grow our own, heehee....sorry another 70s reference) a try. Not only will you get the satisfaction of planting and tending but fresh is always best.
Now, Sher has this pass it along thing going. The first 5 commenters on her site get a jar of maple syrup fresh from the Canadian north as long as they are willing to pay it forward. Well, now I like free stuff as well as the next guy but what I really like is giving stuff away. Giving Christmas gifts are so much better than getting them and dang think of what I can cook up with that maple syrup. Can you say maple brittle or creams.
So I'm paying it forward to the first 5 commenters that are willing to pick something and give 5 away on their site. So comment and promise to do the same and you will receive from me......
In honor of the whole Texas move I'll be giving away 3.8 ounces jars of Penzeys Chili 9000. I haven't tried this but I lurve me a Penzeys store. And it just so happens they have one in Houston. It's fate I tells' you.
Even without being able to cook for a week I've come up with enough verbiage to make a complete post. What are the odds. Pretty good actually.
I try to be pretty up beat and zen about most everything but this move has just kicked my butt.
Wednesday morning I totally melted down. Poor JR got a weepy call from me that pretty much ran the gamut from: "I'm never going to find a place for us to live" to "I don't want to move out of the expensive but wonderful suite hotel to some thing half the price that doesn't have cool flat screen TVs and a wine and cheese social". This phone call included a bunch of blubbering, a bit of weeping, and just a little sniveling.
Let's break this down into manageable rants:
House hunting: God, I hate looking for houses by myself. I'm not looking for much; 3 bedrooms, a couple of baths and a place that will take my pets. Two dogs and one cat. Cat = no problem,
Dog under 40 pounds (so he's not quite under 40 lbs but he would prefer that we not talk about his weight. I understand) = no problem,
big ass 1 year old puppy = big problem. When a dog is over 60 pounds but under a 100 landlords immediately jump to the conclusion that they are vicious pitbulls. Our Nessa is a doopy, loving, fairly well behaved Goldendoodle. She doesn't chew, bite, or crap in the house. She jumps, licks, and has an annoying ball retrieving habit but only with me.
After seeing 4 or 5 places I did come up with a house that I'm pretty happy with. So a day that started out sucking big time turned out okay.
Grocery Stores: I've been scouting grocery stores because ( all together now) Michele's cheap. According to the CNN cost of living calculator groceries should cost 17% less in Houston than Phoenix. This excited me in a way that is probably against the law in many southern counties. I'm pretty sure CNN is lying to me. I haven't find the groceries any less but time and figuring out where the hell everything is will tell.
So far this is what I've got: Houston store = Phoenix equivalent Randels = Safeway Kroger = Fry's H.E.B = ??? I've got nothing. It is sort of like Fry's
Spec, Wine, Spirits and Fine Foods = my new love. It is an uber liquor store. There was a nice young man working there that lead me to a wonderful little Pinot Noir. With the purchase of a bottle opener, wine glass, and that lovely little wine. Ahhhhh........meltdown over.
Here's hoping that there are no meltdowns in your future.
Time was that this was the way Americans got their news.
From magazines that would send reporters and artists out to the battle fields. To record the battle with hand drawn sketches. Talk about embedded reporters.
War was very personal back then. You looked your enemy in the eye. Sometimes your enemy was your neighbor, friend or brother. With technology war has become very impersonal. It's sad really.
Would we be so eager to engage in war if we had a personal relationship with our opponent?
Love, M
Sorry about getting all preachy. When I look at magazines from 1864 I can't help but make comparisons.
I'm trying to get myself settle in Houston this week so I scheduled all my posts last week. This shouldn't prove to be much of a problem considering I'm not very current or topical. So, in the interest of not being current or topical I give you my Random Tuesday Thoughts this week.
Not sure what this is? Head over to Keely's The Un-Mom to find out.
I saw this last week on MSN.com. It seems that the Colorado DMV took issue with it. I can't understand why? The owner just wanted to profess her love of tofu.
The Druggers (the family with 18 children) are set to make some big announcement on Monday. Please God, don't let it be that they are going to have number 19. The first thing that came to my mind when I heard that they were making an announcement, after the please god thing, was something that Groucho Marx said to a woman with 12 children:
Groucho: "Wow, 12 children".
Woman: "My husband loves me"
Groucho: "Madam, I love my cigar but I take it out once in awhile".
Mister Drugger, take it out once in awhile!
(P.S. turns out their oldest boy and his wife are expecting.)
How bogus is this? President Obama is giving the commencement speech at the upcoming ASU commencement ceremonybut unlike every other speaker he is not going to receive an honorary degree. Sure, he probably doesn't care but come on! This is the statement put out by the ASU PR people:
ASU Media Relations Director Sharon Keeler says, unlike other universities, the processes for selecting commencement speakers and honorary degree recipients are independent. She says that honorary degrees are given “for an achievement of eminence” and that Obama was not considered for an honorary degree because his body of achievements, at this time, does not fit within that criteria.
Wait a minute! His body of achievements doesn't fit? WTF? He's the fricken' President. They gave one to movie director Edward Blake. Okay, Okay, the Pink Panter movies were terrific but do they beat being the first black president? hmmmm.......ASU may want to rethink this.
You can read about it here, here and here. Then read about them rethinking this after some really bad press. The pinheads!
The secret to martial bliss is to not have kids. Now, they tell me! Shit!
Way back when, 1979 & 1980, I lived in Los Angeles, CA and worked in Beverly Hills. The land of swimming pools.....movie stars.
Trust me, not as exciting as it sounds.
One day, I needed to grab a few things at the drugstore down the street from the bank where I worked. A co-worker decided that she also needed a few things so we went together. Because, girls do that. Young girls especially. And were we ever young. I was 19.
We grabbed our few things (I can not for the life of me remember what they were, probably makeup) and stood in line behind this older gentleman (old for us). He was buying a case of rubbing alcohol. Strange but this was LA. People were strange in LA. Could be they still are.
My co-worker became very excited and started poking me with her finger.
Co-worker:"Michele, that's Jack Lemmon". She is literally bouncing. Bouncing and poking. Poking and bouncing. It was annoying.
Me: " Huh? Where?" Paying very little attention to those around me. Co-worker: "The guy in front of you is Jack Lemmon. You know, the actor!!"
Me: "So it is". Trying to not embarrass myself or Mr. Lemmon. Co-worker: "Say something to him" ,(said in a loud whisper)this was accompanied by more poking with a bit more bouncing thrown in.
Me: "Like what?" (said in a much quieter whisper) Poor Mr. Lemmon was looking back at us by this time with the cutest little smile on his face and a case of rubbing alcohol in his hands.
Co-worker: "I don't know. something". I thought she was going to pee her pants by this point. Me (raising my voice just a little so he could hear): "I'm not exactly sure what you want me to say to him. What I'd like is for him to invite me to whatever party he's going to with all that rubbing alcohol". Making slight growling noise. At this Jack Lemmon chuckled lightly, winked at me, picked up his case of rubbing alcohol and left. I didn't get my invite. I was bummed for just a minute. I consoled myself with the fact that I humored him just a bit.
That was one of my less embarrassing brushes with a celebrity. The year I spent in LA was a series of embarrassing moments so I count this as a high point.
If you'd like to get in on the wonderfulness of the Spin Cycle head on over to Sprite's Keeper's place. Jen's got it all together over there.
I love Olive Tapenade. It has that wonderful salty olive goodness that is great on everything from pizza to sandwiches to pasta to chicken to fish. Huge spoonfuls of olive yumminess (drool dripping onto brand new laptop. Must STOP thinking about it). I could eat it like breakfast cereal. OMG, I have eaten it like breakfast cereal.
Last Saturday I was craving olive tapenade with hummus on pita bread. Nothing would do but that I had olive tapenade RIGHT. NOW. Quick search of the refrigerator revealed no tapenade, olive or otherwise. What's a desparate woman to do? Run right out to the store? No, not me. That would be too easy.I made my own out of ingredients that I had at home.
While in my grip of tapenade madness I dragged my friend Lisa under the bus with me. That's just the kind of friend I am. (why, oh why does the blogger spell checker want to turn tapenade into tapeworm? Tapeworm would not taste near so good. Or I don't think it would never having eaten tapeworm. Can you eat tapeworm? Should I just shut up about tapeworms?)
Here is what we did:
1 jar Napa Valley Bistro - Mediterranean Antipasto with Herbs & Napa Valley Merlot 1 can black olives 1/2 jar green olives stuffed with pimento
I got the jar of antipasto as a gift at Christmas and was pretty sure I'd never use it. My family just doesn't seem to go for this type of thing (we're common folk). This is a mixed bag of things. It had Kalamata olives, green olives, peppers, and garlic. All good stuff. (Don't go out to buy something like this. Use whatever you might have around the house.) We drained off the liquid into a bowl, pitted the Kalamata olives, cut the stems from the peppers and tried to pit the green olives. Those puppies were tough to work with. Quit trying to pit these little turds (by throwing one on the floor and stomping on it all the while swearing profusely) by calmly reaching for the jar of martini olives.
Yeah, this was a sacrifice but I was willing to make it. We drained a can of black olives also. Everything went into the food processor with the dangerous blade thingy in place. We pulsed this about 10 to 15 times so that everything was chopped up pretty fine but not mush. You could drizzle a little olive oil in to make it more of a paste.
Serve in a fancy bowl because it deserves it or you could do what I did; grab great handfuls and smear it into my mouth like a 1 year old baby with birthday cake.
Frugal tip: Have you got those little bits of leftovers hanging out in your refrigerator? The cup of rice from dinner 2 days ago, that half cup of veggies from dinner last night, that sauce from the pasta that is not enough for a meal by itself but too much to throw away.
If you are anything like me (which you are probably not because you are sane) you feel guilty throwing these bits and bobs of breakfast, lunch, or dinner in the trash. I tend to place these into the refrigerator, pushing them further and further back then leaving them there until they turn into science fair projects.
When the boys were in school these green fuzzy containers would have made great projects for that biology class. I was saving it for them. I wanted them to do well in science. That's my story about why this happened in my fridge with disgusting regularity and I'm sticking to it.
Now, if you tell me you never ever do this I'll believe you because I'm gullible. If you are willing to come clean then let me give you an idea of what to do with these meal droppings.
Upon inspection of my fridge Sunday afternoon I discovered that I had the following:
2 cups roasted potatoes, carrots, yellow squash & zucchini with Italian herbs from dinner 3 nights before 1 cup of Swiss cheese and portabella mushroom dip from the party 1 cup cooked white rice from dinner 2 nights before 1/2 loaf of french bread Parmesan cheese
I had 3 choices; 1. a casserole; 2. soup; 3. science fair fodder. Monty, I chose door number 2
I pulled out the food processor to grind up the roasted veggies. I tossed that mush into a big soup pot, added the party dip and rice. Poured in 3 cans (about 4 cups) of veggie broth and one can of stewed tomatoes with Italian seasonings. (see a theme here? Getting this to taste good you have to make it all about the theme). I simmered this for about 30 minutes. I wanted this a little smoother so hit it with the hand held blender but rustic would have worked.
I toasted one side of the french bread under the broiler, flipped them over, topped with Parmesan cheese, and melted that under the broiler. These I put on top of each bowl of soup like a big crouton. Oh yeah!
I've been making leftover soup for years. In that time I've had some major successes and some major failures. Sunday night's soup was a hit. 3 out of 5 went back for seconds. That's a win!
The key to leftover soup is the theme. If you are using leftovers that have a theme; Italian, Mexican, whatever anything that you add needs to go with the theme.
Example: Leftovers from taco night; taco meat (not at this house but you could have it), Mexican rice, refried beans, cheddar cheese, hard taco shells. Hmmmm...what would I do?
Toss the meat, rice, beans into a pot with beef broth (or veggie or chicken) let simmer for about 20 minutes. Top each bowl with cheese and crunched up taco shells. Voila! Dinner!
Your leftovers need not linger in your fridge to become those fuzzy green science projects. With a little creativity they can become a fantastic (or at least edible) dinner.
Michele, you need to take the car in before you leave and at least get the oil changed.
Right, I’ll do that (yawn)
No! really, take the car in!
Okay, I will
I hate to take the car in to get serviced. Invariably they find something that is wrong that will cost me a boat load of money. This time was no different.
“Mrs. R, before you take your trip you should really get the radiator replaced. It’s leaking, the hoses are shot, and the belts need to be replaced.” Says nice concerned young repairman
“What’s that going to cost me?” (me, inwardly cursing JR because that boat load of money has just sailed)
“If we only change the oil and all the stuff I listed it will only cost $700. If we do the service on the fuel system and the transmission that needs to be done also will add another $300 to the total.” (looking like he’s worried I’m going to have that heart attack that I’ve been threatening for years)
“Groan”
What can I expect? The car is 14 years old and has 153000 miles on it. It’s old. It’s tired. It's parts are wearing out. I know just how it feels. Unlike the car, $1000 is not going to get me up and running.
I shouldn’t be complaining. We bought the car used for next to nothing and we’ve put even less into it. About every 4 years or so we drop a grand or less to replace parts but that’s about it, though these parts replacement hits are getting closer together. Last one was about a year ago.This car has been a good deal but it looks like it’s getting to be time to move on.
I shouldn’t be sitting at the Whole Foods eating my organic (because it’s Whole Foods) pumpkin whole wheat muffin, my organic (can you say expensive, because it’s Whole Foods!) Bartlett pear and drinking my organic 1% milk (because it was cheaper than the organic Whole Foods coffee) getting all sentimental about a car. It’s a car, already. Geesh, I hate menopause.
Across the street is a Lingerie Superstore. I am SO tempted to walk over to find out what it so super about the store. Is it just an uber porn shop? Okay, that’s it, I have to know. I’ll report later.
It is not an uber porn shop. It is all lingerie, sexy costumes, and hooker shoes. Not a video or a sex toy in site. Kind of disappointing really, I was hoping for something outrageous. I’ll have to wait until I can get up to Cape Cod Girl’s area to visit an uber porn shop and the fall leaves (my dream vacation all wrapped up into one. CCG I'll be heading your way. So pull out the hide-a-bed. LOL!). I was happy to see that they had a whole section of organic lotions, oils and lubricants. Trying to cater to the Whole Foods crowd from across the street I guess.
Hey Becky, next time you are looking for a pair of fishnets I know just the place. They have fishnets in very color of the rainbow. This place carries full body fishnets. What more could you ask for. And, these are the good fishnets, very fine mesh, not the ones that would catch tuna but the ones that would catch sardines. Ewwww…I just gave that sentence some more thought. Sorry.
I was in awe of their selection. They offer more than the typical panty-less cheerleader costumes and milkmaid outfits. So if you ever get invited to an Oscar party and want to look like Cher at the 1986 Oscar’s this is the place to find them.
I could have done without the 3 saleswoman literally attacking me at the front door. I wanted to browse, maybe secretly take a couple of pictures, do a little blog recon but NO! I had a saleswoman wanting to follow me around the store telling me about their inventory clearance sale. So sorry, no pictures.
So 5 ½ hours and $700 later I drive out of the repair place with a brand spanking new radiator, all new hoses and belts, and an oil change.
JR: “How did it go at the car repair place?”
Me: “I had to get a new radiator. It took 5 ½ hours and cost $700. Thank you for asking.”
