I promise to write a blog again soon. Actually, I have. Twice, in fact…but they are for Imagine Lockhart’s Main St. Market. I am so excited about this. Recently, I created the market’s website and newsletter, and in doing so, added webmaster to my list of secretarial duties.
You can see them at HERE.
When cooking, there are numerous decisions that must be made.
One example is the choice of apron. You have to ask yourself, “Is this a time for me to attract a mate or a time to get down to business and cook up a storm?”
Oh, so pretty.
Oh, so functional.
Another example would be pot size. When I go to the Main Street Market, I usually leave with some embarrassingly large zucchini. These are perfect for stuffing, if you have the right pot size. [Thanks be to my mama, who buys me practical gifts.]
Not gonna cut it.
Beckon Big Bertha.
Before you soften the zucchini “boats”, you must prepare ‘em. After cutting off the ends and slicing down the middle, one should get a big spoon and carve out the seeds. Be sure to leave enough of the fleshy part too, because you’ll need it later. It should look something like this.
Place the zucchini into boiling water. If you boil these for too long, they turn mushy and the cell wall loses its structure. Plus, the longer you cook something, the more nutrients you lose; thus, I boil for about a minute, then turn off the heat and let the zucc. can soak while I prepare the bread for the stuffing.
Put some bread (I prefer sourdough) in a bowl with a little milk, just enough to soften the bread, not make it soggy. Once each piece has absorbed milk and softened, wring out the excess liquid in each piece, tear into little pieces and throw in a bowl. Get your zucchini out, grab a towel to protect your hand from the heat, and carefully scoop out a layer of the fleshy middle. Be sure not to get too greedy, because you want to keep the curved structure. Now add the rest of the ingredients for the stuffing. This is where you can get creative. I had two different types of cheese from Sand Holler Farm, green onion, seasonings, sourdough, and, of course, the fleshy part of the zucchini. Throw an egg in there to keep it all together and then place the stuffing into the zucchini boats.
Bake at 375 for about 30 minutes, let cool as you photograph it.
Then serve and enjoy watching your guests’ eyes brighten.
For having an awful day, I sure am having a great day!
“But it’s not even eleven in the morning! How could you already have a bad day?”, you may ask.
The Agenda:
12 AM – Fall asleep
3 AM – Wake up, listen to a raccoon go through the recycling on my porch, and promptly fall back asleep.
5 AM – Wake up
7:30 AM – Fall back asleep
8 AM – Up for work, feeling allergic to everything (especially to being awake), must clean up ‘coon wreckage.
9 AM – Drive to work a bit late, get stuck behind a tractor, a dump truck, a work truck, and three regular vehicles. Result: Very late.
9:30 AM – Get to work. Get fired. Yeah. Really. (Not because I was late, but because of school scheduling conflicts and ol’ town biddies. Honestly, I’m kind of relieved because it was too easy of work and I need more security and faith in my employer’s future.)
10 AM – Get home to find the most depressing scene ever.
Top: Empty hummingbird feeder. Bottom: What is that?
Oh, of course it would be a dead hummingbird on my porch.
No way, Jose. If getting “let go” can’t ruin my day, neither can this sad creature. This is the circle of life and I AM JUST SO SORRY I DIDN’T FEED YOU ON TIME!
Then came the creep. That’s right. In our house, filled with antiques, taxidermy, and old heifer teeth in a glass jar, there now lies a deceased hummingbird. I.am.a.freak.
I will immortalize you!
It would probably be pretty hard to taxidermy a hummingbird.
Whatever powers are angry with me, I care not. I am refusing to let these things get me down. I had a beautiful, albeit pointless, drive to work. The songs on the radio were great. My roommate is great. I have a Dr. Pepper and a swim with Jenny in my future. I saw a Peter Griffin. I ate a good breakfast that I wouldn’t have had time for, had I been at work. I am having a wonderful hair day.
But seriously, how could I fail so much in one ten hours? What have I been doing wrong lately?! I thought I was doing so well.
I have been posting more lately, keeping folks up to date as to what I am doing. Except that I haven’t been mentioning anything that I have been doing. I could say because it’s summer, the time for doing nothing, but really, these past three months held quite a bit in store for me. This summer I have left my job at Cottonseed as a cook (even though I’ll miss my food discount), left the replacement job as a sales person in Austin (sounds not at all up my alley), and landed a job as a florist/shopkeeper at Buffalo Clover in Lockhart. This summer I have let go of a lot of anger and worked on controlling my temper. I have seen my mother marry the man she is crazy about, and I love seeing her so happy, even if it brings my sibling count to TWELVE! I have learned about myself and my friends. I traveled to Abilene and the beach in Corpus. I have changed to an Agriculture major, about which I am thrilled! And this summer, I went on absolutely zero dates…it seems I am back up to my old tricks.
So this AG major has to start school again this coming Wednesday, meaning that I must accept the end of my summer. I didn’t say I would accept it graciously.
Visit THIS LINK to see pictures from my Summer 2011.
This weekend my new Papa Phil and my mama came to town, and it was a weekend filled with eating and shopping. First, they were meeting my cousin Jamie near the IKEA on Friday, and I just had to go, so before dinner, I stopped by IKEA. I spent less than $100 and left with oodles! Saturday afternoon, I met them again (this time with Philip’s daughter and son-in-law) and we went to The Domain. The Domain is a big, fancy outdoor mall, complete with restaurants, shops, and apartments. I thought that I should avoid the The Domain. But The Domain has the Z Gallerie. Everything was too expensive, but what a place to window shop! I go to these places for inspiration, not to make purchases. Everything was gorgeous and shiny. Not to mention all of the table settings they had displayed! So when we headed over to Sur la Table and I found cute plates on sale, I could already feel an entire project forming in my head.
Our table is usually covered by a tablecloth, not to protect the surface, but to hide it. The top is scratched, stained, and ugly. Plus, as indicated in the picture, the leaf doesn’t fit well. SO, out came the electric drill, sander, rag, paintbrushes, primer, and paint. The best part of this project is that it was virtually free because these were all resources that I already had around the house! (I am going to need a shed soon.)
See her smirk? She digs it.
During the times when I was awaiting dry paint, I had a pantry to keep me busy. You may wonder what I could do to a pantry or why a pantry would even need help, but let me tell you this: Our pantry is haunted. I needed to dehaunt the pantry.
Could our food be stored anywhere more creepy?!
Why doesn't this shelf get nasty paper?
Nothing a little shelf paper can’t fix. Granted this shelf paper comes with an entire story of its own and ended in a phone call to my mom, so that she could go to the Dollar Tree in Abilene to get me rolls of the one pattern that I liked.
Aaah! Much better. The Pantry Phantoms have been evacuated.
After these two projects were complete, I sat for twenty minutes, downloaded the Epicurious app on my Droid, and then got back to it! I gotta eat!
Kebabs!
The okra is from Imagine Lockhart’s Main Street Market and the rest of the veggies are from the backyard. Among other things, life is full of all things delicious, creative, and wonderful.
Here in Texas, taming the wild west is quite the struggle. Once, when I was living in the crashpad in Houston, a pilot-in-training from New York freaked when he saw a spider, albeit a small one. As I got closer, cause I was about to get to stompin’, I recognized it as a “violin spider”. I turned around and shouted, “It was a Brown Recluse.” The guy had never heard of these! So, with just a hint of intimidation, I explained to him how a bite from a BR affects the human body, specifically the flesh. He had a fit!
“THAT’S IT! I have had it. There are snakes that try and kill you. There are lizards that shoot blood from their eyes! There are spiders that cause your skin to rot away! THAT IS IT!”
He put in for a transfer back to NYC the next day and had moved out of our lives within a few days.
I guess it isn’t for everyone. You know what isn’t “it” for everyone? ANTS! STUPID, GREEDY ANTS! Every summer, there comes a time, when the grass is brown, the soil is dry, and the talk of drought is on the lips of all. This is when ants make their way inside, searching for whatever they can. THIS IS WHEN ANTS DIE!
First, I tried chalk. That’s right, just plain Crayola chalk. If they pass through a good amount of it, the powder will get on their skin. Since they breathe through their skin, they suffocate.
Chalk Moat Defense System!
Last summer, this chalk thing worked. This year, it’s just a big mess on my floor. So it was on to Plan B, which involved repainting all of the baseboards in the downstairs living room. The ants pushed their way through two coats of wet paint, but on the third, I was victorious. You know what they did the next day? They found other cracks! Infested the cat food and attacked my roommate and her purse! THEY GOT THE RAID!!! That’s right. I pulled out the chemical ant killer. I didn’t like doing this, but I’m only environmentally friendly, until I get an ant bite on my eyelid! (This was my fault though. No, I don’t want to talk about it.)
In a way, they are really helpful in showing me the places that need sealing. This time they brought attention to the cracks in between the baseboards and the floor in the dining/dance hall. This is an all-woooden-wall room, which unfortunate because the wood had been flooded about 3 feet high and had been scuffed and marred. I have an eye for detail and like for things to be perfect, so trust me when I say that I could.not.stop.staring. I even gave some of these walls mean mugs in passing some days.
So I went to Lowe’s! I love my trips to the hardware store. The other night, I mindlessly said with a sigh, “I wish there was a 24 hr hardware store for insomniacs.” I didn’t think I was being funny, but Catrin’s laughter exposed how manic I am. Oh, goodness. [If you are thinking Wal-Mart is a 24 hr hardware store, you're probably also thinking about how much you hate going to Wal-Mart. So that place is right out.]
I only sometimes think about what I am going to say before I open my mouth and this has gotten me in trouble countless times. Today was one of the rare times when I tried to keep my dignity intact. The guy working at the paint counter, my most used counter, was handsome and helpful. As I approached, I quickly came up with a few options: “Hi, what do you know about caulk?. No, that won’t work. How do I ask for ‘brown caulk’? What the heck am I going to say?!” I decided to say the word, “Recaulk.” That’s right. I’m crafty with those words.
Supplies! Isn't my sander just darling?
Step 1: Clean baseboards.
Step 2: Caulk baseboards: Squeeze gunk into cracks, wipe/push in with finger, wipe gunk on finger in some other crack close by, wipe up excess with damp towel.
Step 3: Pull out that adorable little sander, give it a quick peck, and tear that wood up! Then give the area a wipe with a wrung wash cloth.
Step 4: That wood finish is flippin’ spray paint! This was so easy I thought I would faint. Spray it, let it sit a little, use that same wash cloth to blend in the drippy excess areas.
Welp, that was easy.
What even happened here?
Sorry for the crappy pictures.
Whatever, it's an improvement.
Yeehaw!
This is really one of those projects that only I will notice and appreciate, and I am more than comfortable with that. I embraced my hedonist side long ago. Not only was it a cosmetic improvement, but it served a real purpose, sealing up just a little bit more of my house. Oh! And The landlord’s son put a threshold on that door that I mentioned last time. Tiny cried a little when it was sealed off, but I am absolutely thrilled! The floor is already staying cleaner longer!
Okay, it’s time to shower and crash. We out, we out.
That screw looks like a ring.
It is no secret to me that the quickest way to relieve stress is to get to work. I don’t mean driving around and getting to the office on time. No no…I mean getting gritty, sweaty, and exhausted. Yesterday wasn’t a terrible day, but it certainly wasn’t a good one. Almost every effort resulted in disappointment and I cried two and a half times. I will spare you the list of failures, but I will share the very coincidental parking lot debacles that occurred.
Keep in mind, these events came right around the point that my rope became so thin that I could have mistaken it for floss.
First, came the daughter and her mother. I parked, within the lines, next to a car that was very much in my space. As I got out of the car, the woman came through Goodwill’s automatic doors, barking, “Now she can’t get in”, while pointing to her mother. I calmly retorted as I got back in my car, “I can only wonder whose fault THAT is.”
Secondly, came a son and his father. In my desperate attempt to flee the excruciatingly hot Lowe’s parking lot, I opened my door too wide. Not frantically…just too wide. My door ever-so-gently kissed the passenger mirror. When I say kissed, I mean that I would have done more damage touching it with my finger. Well this guy jumped out of his car, brought his dad over, and then stared at his pristine Honda Civic. By this time, I had HAD it! In what may be one of the most unfriendly moments of my life, I rolled down the window and let them have it.
“I didn’t hit your door; I touched your mirror. Gently!” I started saying this before they could say a word…before my window had even gone all the way down.
The son rebutted, “Well, I thought I heard a thud.”
“Well, I think you’re wrong!” This exclamation may have been followed by a seizure.
Those poor men. They had no idea what kind of bear trap, into which they were stepping.
Anyway, I scrapped the rest of the errands on my hit list, called my mom, and cried to her during my drive home. Moms are crucial to days like these.
My house, although I am absolutely crazy about it, has a complete lack of sealant. Ants come in through cracks, which I stop with Crayola chalk. Our side door has no threshold and the gap is so large that neighborhood cats come around, just to stick their paws under the door to play with our indoor cats. That being said, it is nearly impossible to keep this house clean. So WHY do we have white baseboards? No. No more.
Gross.
I had free paint and a determination to shake the day. I knew what I had to do.
The beginning
Basically, this is a basic task and doesn’t require much skill. At first, I was using newspaper to create straight lines, but the folks who primed the wood got white paint all over the green concrete. So, following suit, I pushed the paper away and just went free-hand, painting like a mad woman.
I think I took this after Hour Three.
At 3 AM, this drone finished the damn thing! If I could say this took me less than 5 hours, I think it would sound less manic; however, it took me 6, without breaks.
Done and done!
Next I have to paint the Catsle to match. You remember the Catsle? I may also paint that top part of the banister above the couch. I think it may look more finished if I go ahead and scrap the mismatch thing. What do y’all think?
Months later, I got the itch to improve it just a bit more. Unfortunately, without any way to run electricity to the river, I sanded that sucker by hand! With just a glove, sandpaper, and determination, this behemoth started looking presentable.
Once sanding was over, the lovely Michelle helped me prime and paint this sucker [with swim breaks in between coats]. I stenciled on the finishing touches and BAM! Those thieves may have won a battle, but we won the war! I really hope this one doesn’t get stolen.
But I was in luck. Stool and table be my booty!
While Catrin worked on crafting her handmade cards, I sat on behind-numbing concrete, painting my table Olympic Shortbread color. Pedo watched…creeper.
It’s strange how projects evolve. More often than not, I start without a clue as to how the end results will look. And if I have an idea, it will be wrong. After four hours, my excitement had turned to backache, so I scrapped the stencil idea, decided against upholstering a seat cushion to the top, and just decided to finish the stool.
Seven hours, a desperate need for a pillow, and less than $40 later, I am the proud new owner of a shabby chic table and stool!
Another example of a project’s evolution was the case of the Catstle. First it was hideous, but kind of blended into the background.
It was when my enthusiasm for the table and stool projects bled over onto this, that my success streak took a nasty turn. I suppose that since the Catstle was splintered and found in a dumpster that anything I did to it would be an improvement. After I finished painting the legs, I grabbed my staple gun and started covering up the stained carpet. I am not entirely sure what happened, but the final product was a 90′s Tribute Shrine to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Oh, sweet satisfaction.
So memorial day weekend began Saturday. We had a bunch of friends out and, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I had a fantastic time. Mike, whom we haven’t seen in months, brought karaoke. Like big speakers, for real karaoke. Late in the afternoon, I managed to twist my ankle. How? Let me tell you, revealing just how foolish I am. I jumped from a 15 foot ledge into four feet of water. Sometimes one hears the question, “If all your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you do it too?”. Well, that answer is, “Yes”.
With a little too little sleep, I awoke Sunday morning and hobbled to wear I had thrown my brace. It took some time, gasping, and grunting to get that thing over my swollen ankle, but I triumphed and headed off to work. I haven’t been off my feet much since, and surprisingly, it’s worked. I may have walked off a sprained ankle.
All this is fine and good, but what I really want to talk about is today. After saying goodbye to 2K before his two-week Korean adventure [you can guess which side], Cat and I met some friends [including my former Physical Geography teacher] in San Marcos, where we rented a 2 person kayak and a 3 person canoe. This trip was an overall victory and we enjoyed our success, but it came with grave failures. We realized quickly that canoes are incredibly difficult to maneuver and easy to tip. After bumping into a good number of tubers, we realized that CaNOes can just suck it. After four miles, the San Marcos meets the Blanco river. The beauty of this area is incredible. I could go into detail about the roots of the Cypress trees and the grumpy green heron; however, I am tired.
At County Rd 101, thee hell that is Don’s Fish Camp began. The people all looked the same, the battling stereos were too loud, they were all LITTERING!, they were taking up SO much space, and their comments were incredibly rude. Luckily, I was in the kayak for this section, so when coming upon a big pack of tubers, Cat and I sped past. During one of these personal races, a guy shouted, “Bitches, slow your role.” I was already perturbed, but this sent my blood boiling. I couldn’t go crazy because we were moving so quickly, but I did some hollering. I bet he treats his mother like garbage too.
I only saw one snake and it was a couple inches from my hand. I also found huge disappointment in the sogginess of the pizza I had packed for lunch, which I thought was going to be the greatest idea of all time.
After taking the first turn of some rapids well, I cheered, “We like professionals!” We immediately tumped over. Yeah, sponsors are banging at the door. Our flip lost a one gal’s shoe, while her husband simultaneously lost his wedding ring. We couldn’t feel more terrible, but we were surrounded by Don’s “fish”, so we had to abandon the search for the needle in the haystack.
At some point today, I was stung on the face by a yellow jacket. As I was holding my forehead and repeatedly stomping on the mean creature against the bottom of the canoe, we went through some low-hanging branches. The leaves lashed at my face, the twigs caught in my hair, and then a thick Ent arm thudded against my head. In this moment of fury, I slammed down my oar and announced, “Now, I am not having fun!” The stinger was pinched out and the moment passed, but I frantically kicked at myself when another later landed on my leg.
After seven hours and twelve miles of rowing, mostly upstream, we finally finished our trip from Sewell Park, in San Marcos, to 1979, in Martindale: Home of Cottonseed Cafe and some other things. Yeeehaw!
Bed time.
