Girl Scout Cookies

The winter is wearing us down, but there was a bright spot in our day today. The Girl Scout Cookies arrived! We bought five different kinds, and debated the wisdom of sampling each kind today. In the end, we decided on two. Ratings follow.

The new lemonade cookies are large, tart, and very lemony. We tried them first, and that was a good thing. As refreshingly tasty as they were, they couldn't hold a candle to the peanut butter chocolate coateds. I could have devoured a whole box of those in one sitting. I limited myself to three for now, but plan to re-visit the box later tonight.

Considering that last night's dinner was corn chips and queso dip, we're not doing well food-wise this week. I'll have to go back to the medicine soup that I mentioned in an earlier post.

Medicine Soup

My sister has a wicked cold, so I decided to make her some homemade soup. My standard recipe starts with bay leaves, carrots, onions and celery. I chop and sautee them in a little olive oil to start. And I use chicken broth (the easy kind, from a box or a can). Hey, I think that's a pretty good effort for a vegetarian.

In this batch of soup I decided to throw in a bunch of garlic (a natural antibiotic) and a lot of dill (good for an upset stomach).

The house smells divine. Let's hope the Medicine Soup does something to make her feel better.

Rachel Ray, eat your heart out. I made the soup in 30 minutes or less.

Over The Hill

It was a rough weekend. My sister was up from Georgia with her husband, two-year-old son and infant daughter for the girl's Baptism.

We tried to do as much family gathering stuff for them as possible - a sit-down dinner for 9 adults on Friday, a post-Baptism buffet for 10 adults and 5 children (all under the age of 6) on Saturday... it was rough. Martha Stewart we are not. Perfectionists we are, and we had melt-downs whenever things went awry (like, there was a mountain of pots and pans to wash, dry and put away because we needed countertop space for the buffet - and we had to leave for the Baptism in five minutes... and then I dropped the directions to the church under the car and they stuck in a mud puddle)... The toddler got Valentine's Day chocolate all over the white and pale blue striped sofa... the brother-in-law aggravated my 87-year-old uncle and made him shout ... we ran out of red wine...

But then there were the good parts. My cousin's pumpkin soup was divine. The sausage-potato-vinegar pepper dish was a tremendous hit. I taught my 3 nephews and niece how to spit. Loudly. We got a handful of "It's A Girl" cigars (just need nicer weather so we can go outside to smoke them). Georgia nephew swept the floor with his white teddy bear (so we didn't have to) and we laughed our butts off when his mother saw the bear. Turned over the sofa cushions so the chocolate smears don't show. "A good time was had by all" (I hate that phrase, but it was the truth).

So much more to tell... but this old lady now realizes that ONE party is enough work - two was far too much (despite all the help from family). I am really feeling like I am over the hill. Next family gathering will be in Georgia. I hope.

Spa Nights and Snowstorms and Valentines

Well... Spa Night was something different. I poured the hot water for the foot soaks and it was waaaaay too hot. We steamed our feet over the tubs for a good half hour before we could actually put them into the water. And by then it was almost too cold. I guess I'm just not a spa type of person. Throw me into a good hot shower and I'm good to go. Manicure? What's that? You're talking to a farmer's daughter, here...

Fortunately, "Finding Nemo" was a great success after the failed foot soaks. We have all seen it so many times, we didn't even cry at the sad parts. It has become a real 'cult movie' for us - we are one with the seagulls - "Mine? Mine? Mine?" And the best scene for us will always be Darla's arrival, with all the hysteria and screaming and Nemo's great escape. Awesome stuff.

We didn't go to work today - snowstorm followed by ice and then torrential rain. As I write, our cellar is gradually filling up with snow melt coming in through the window wells. Nothing I tried today could keep the water from pouring in. I got really frustrated over it at one point, stomped around the house and slammed a few doors. Didn't make me feel any better. I finally started to sing the "Happy Boy" song - have you heard that one? "I'm a happy boy, happy boy - ain't it great when things are going my way, hey HEY!" Of course, I'm not a boy, I'm a girl, but it's a good tune to get you out of a foul mood.

Valentine's Day. What can be done to get you out of a foul mood on Valentine's Day when you don't have a Valentine? Chocolate helps, but sometimes I think it would just be better if people politely avoided the mention of V-Day to those of us who so obviously do not have Valentines anywhere within shooting range.

Feeling rather sorry for Neighbor's (soon to be ex) wife. They say that "it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all", but I question that. Valentine's Day is hard on the singles, but must be a lot harder on those who once had - and lost - their Valentine...

Let It Snow...

Well, we're getting slammed with another lovely New England snowstorm. They are predicting ice followed by heavy rain and flooding, this time. Wonderful. Time to mop the cellar again.

I've told everyone that if the weather is lousy, I won't be going to work tomorrow. I drive like a granny in this sort of weather, but the typical New Englander does not, so I prefer to stay off the road when I can. New England drivers are bad any time of the year, but much worse in snowy conditions.

My biggest gripe is the cell phone driver. We can always tell who is on the cell phone. They clog the middle lane of the highway (that's the freeway, to you west-coasters). Generally they travel 10 to 15 mph slower than the speed limit. They talk with their hands (despite holding a cell phone firmly to their ear with one hand, and attempting to steer with the other). We blaze past them, glaring and cursing and generally letting out as much road rage as possible before the state troopers catch us.

I look forward to the day when the commute to work is as simple as "Beam me up, Scotty". Or when everyone works from home. I worked from home for a while this year, and I loved it. Particularly when it was snowing.

Let it snow. Our plow guy needs to make a living as much as we do.

Spa Night

We are having Spa Night tonight... Neighbor's (soon to be ex) Wife is bringing the foot tubs and epsom salts. Oh yes, and the wine. Today I bought the strawberries for the muscato, and we are cooking dinner. There is a backup plan. If my soy crumble stroganoff doesn't work out, we'll serve store-bought rotisserie chicken or fried eggs (again). And salad rarely fails, so I think we'll be fine.

We'll watch a video - Finding Nemo is top choice, so far. My Big Fat Greek Wedding may not be appropriate in the current situation. We dragged a box of videos up from the old house - not sure what's in there, but as long as it isn't National Geographic lions and hyenas slaughtering antelopes and bunnies, I'll be happy with it. I don't watch movies very often, so I guess the video alone will be a real treat.

And we'll listen to Wife's side of the story, and probably cry with her a bit more. Not sure whether I am looking forward to Spa Night or not, but it beats shoveling snow.

Ashes

Being Roman Catholic isn't always easy. I'm one of those that goes to Church every weekend, tries to be good. Well today is Ash Wednesday, and one of the Catholic traditions is to go to Mass and receive ashes on our foreheads (when we are marked with ashes, the priest or minister says, "remember man that you are dust and unto dust you shall return" or "turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel". Oh, if you're not Catholic, it's a long, long story. Never mind that for now.

In any event, at lunchtime today I went to a local chapel for Mass. Got my ashes from a sweaty, heavy-handed (and over-zealous, in my opinion) minister. I had a black cross the size of a small donkey on my forehead. I was totally humiliated. I went back to work and the first guy that saw me (obviously not a Cathlolic) did a double-take and gave me a horrifed look.

I immediately went to the nearest bathroom and tried to scrub the black goo off my forehead, but only succeeded in making a huge greay smear. You don't use water to remove ashes, by the way - you let it dry and DUST it off. A co-worker came in and saw what I was doing, and proceeded to tell me that she has such a huge halo, she doesn't need ashes.

And then the guilt trip set in. Did I deny my religion (or Christ Himself) by rubbing off those ashes? Or was I following His instruction to go off to a quiet place to pray by yourself rather than displaying in public that you are fasting?

I am confused. You would think that after 45 years on the face of this earth, I would have stuff like this figured out. Not so. I have a lot to learn. And it ain't over til the fat lady sings.

Tragic Loss...

Well, all the world now knows that the Patriots lost to the Giants. I wasn't phased - I fell asleep just after halftime - but I had to listen to the lamentations at work the next day.

Sometimes I think that I was sent to my current job to be a mental health counselor (for which I am totally unqualified). Rick (names changed to protect the innocent) stops by on his way to the men's room to comment on the football game (who cares?) and then tease me about driving my sister to work every day. Hey, what's the big deal? I don't ride alone and we have a great time. Donnie stops in to chat with my office mate. He is hard of hearing (like I am) and when he gets going on his war stories, the noise is deafening and I don't get a stitch of work done. Marsha (not my office mate, but the other Marsha) comes in to lament about the football team losing but admits that she is over the tragedy because baseball season is about to start. And then there's my own office mate, who is oblivious to football but chatters incessantly about everything imaginable, all day long, sometimes on the telephone but generally to me. I am accustomed to silence while I work and the noise distracts me so badly that I constantly forget what I am working on. I have never been one to think out loud, and it is amazing (and distressing) to be trapped in an office with someone so very much unlike myself.

Isn't life good, that I have only these things to complain about? Isn't it??? I question my resentment toward all of these visitors - after all, we all need some sort of human companionship.

But I am finding that I prefer the silent type - not the strident voices, but the words on paper (I am showing my age, now). I have always preferred pen pals over phone pals. Why? I think because they give me the time and the space and the silence that I so desperately need in order to think.

GOOOO PATS!!!!

It's Super Bowl Sunday, and we are celebrating because the home team is in the big game. I'm talking Patriots (now you know that I'm from New England).

We have all of the football food ready so we won't miss any of the commercials. Yeah, we're those kind of people who don't follow football until the very end of the season... and then we watch it mostly for the commercials. Of course, with the home team playing, it has a little more interest this year.

Don't tell anybody, but I'm in love with Tedy Bruschi. I know, I know - he's married with kids - but I promise I will just look and not touch. I have a couple of pictures of him hanging around the house. He's just the type of guy I've always wanted - short, stocky, dark-haired, rugged good looks - just like my first boyfriend. Bruschi sounds like an Italian name - and speaking of Italian, that's another thing that I like - Italian food.

I love to cook, and it shows. One of my favorite foods of all time is spaghetti. When we were kids, my father used to cook spaghetti for us with butter and mushroom powder. Heavenly! You don't find mushroom powder in the grocery stores these days, but you can find it on the internet.

People of Polish heritage (as I am) are generally very much into cooking with mushrooms. Here is a childhood recipe that I have always loved:

Sautee a batch of wild mushrooms in butter with sliced onions, salt and pepper. If you can't find wild mushrooms, shittake mushrooms are probably the next best thing. Portabella works OK. When the mushrooms and onions are tender, add a little splash of cream to the pan. Outrageously delicious. Use it as a side dish or over spaghetti.

I've gone mushroom picking with my mother, and in later years with my sister, but these days I stick to store-bought. If you don't know what you're doing, wild mushrooms can be lethal. And now that America has discovered 'gourmet' food, mushrooms are much more plentiful in the grocery store. I remember the days when all you could get were the plain white buttons. Better than canned, but nothing like wild.

On that note - I need to get a batch of frozen 'portabella bites' (puff pastry with mushroom stuffing) into the oven before the game starts.

GOOOOO PATS!!!

The Surprise was Unpleasant

So... Neighbor (and his Wife) came over for dinner. They loved my recipes, we enjoyed the moscato wine that they brought, we laughed, we talked. The lovely meal ended with Ghiradelli (don't ask me how to spell that) chocolates.

Suddenly Wife said, "We have to talk", and proceeded to announce that she and Neighbor were splitting up, and gave us all the reasons.

Foolishly, I struggled to think of the right thing to say. The four of us were heartbroken and in tears. My feeble attemps were crap like, "it happens to a lot of people" and "thank God there aren't any children involved". I felt like an idiot and I was talking like a bigger idiot.

Finally I got it right. "Sooooo," I said, "which one of you gets the house?"

We all laughed and cried some more and then I said, "I'm going to put on some music" and Neighbor's wife screamed, "CAN WE DO KITCHEN AEROBICS???" (Kitchen aerobics at our home consists of playing loud music while dancing, marching or strutting around and around our huge kitchen). We generally do it privately but Neighbor and his wife are better than family so we do it with them whenever they visit. It can get pretty ugly (consider the title of this blog) so we only share kitchen aerobics with the very best of friends.

We started with "Stairway to Heaven" (somber start, but we all howled the last line together), threw on some lively American tunes after that ("American Made", "Semper Fidelis", "Oh, Susanna") and then took a bit of a break during "Shenandoah" and "Swanee River".

Back on the dance floor for "City of New Orleans" (we know all the words)and finally "God Bless America", which we sang opera style. Neighbor is a killer baritone.

We sent them home on a high note (so we hoped) and watched them walk in the darkness until they were in the safety of their own driveway (soon to be his, not hers). Wife crowed like a rooster to indicate they were home, and I responded with my very best wicked witch laugh.

Yeah, we're all adults but we act like kids as often as we can. Life is so short. Today I attended the funeral of a friend, and he was only 50 years old. The end of Neighbor/Wife's marriage is a sort of a death for us, as well.

On a happy note - a good friend of mine got me started on this blog thing, and I'm having great fun with it. Not sure where it will go or who will care about reading it, but I have always loved to write and I'm going to enjoy it for all that it's worth.