Sometimes I disturb myself. Like with this little tidbit of personal information. I have several tumors, and when one has to be removed, it gets a name. A regular sort of name. The one that was above and slightly behind my right ear was Ralph. The one on the underside of my chin was Harry, because of the one lone hair it occasionally sprouted. The annoying one on my neck was Herman, and that's what my dad used to call me when he wanted to get under my skin. The group that was removed when I was 21 (discussed in an earlier post) we can call the Brothers Grim. And lastly the one on my face, right side, I've dubbed Arnold. Arnold wasn't really a tumor (hence the name... "It's not a toomah") but a cyst that abscessed and had to come out ASAP.
But the naming all started with Ralph. You see, years ago, when I was 22, I dated this guy. And his mother had a tumor in the exact same place. She had named it Ralph, because it had been with her for so long. So I named my matching one Ralph too. It was the only one to get a name before it had to be removed. So far all the names are masculine, and have some meaning behind them. So. What do I call the one on my back that is coming off on the 16th? I'm having difficulty thinking up an appropriate name for him.
I just remembered that I did name one other one that hasn't been removed yet, and not only that, it has a feminine name. Rosey. She's on my forehead. I also feel I should point out that all of these tumors are really small. Mole sized, but not moles. And they get removed when they start to act up.
Should I talk about food now?
No? Too soon?
Ok.
Sometimes other people disturb me. Like what my crazy relative told me yesterday. She lives in Texas (I know, I could stop there and you would still understand). She and I were discussing the incident at the military base not too far from her. The one in the news. The one where the officer lost his marbles and started shooting up a theatre. She informed me that the gunman was muslim, and that was why he did it. She went on to tell me that there has been talk of rounding up all the muslims in the U.S. and deporting them. That's right. She said it like this was a good thing. It worries me sometimes that crazy appears to run in my family.
I pointed out to her that we (as a country) can't really do that as we have laws about that sort of thing. You know, you can't discriminate against some one for their race, color, or creed. Civil rights. Basic rights at that. I also pointed out that this country was founded on freedom of religion (among other things). She seemed to think that it was perfectly alright to ship 'em all out because, you know, they all want to kill us. Forgetting that nearly every group has extremists and you can't judge an entire group of people by the actions of a few. She said it was part of their religion to try to kill us all. And by "us" she meant everyone who isn't muslim. THEN she went on to say that the saddest part of it all was that those people (and by "those people" she meant everyone who isn't christian - her brand of it at that) were all going to hell. Did I mention that she kinda scares me sometimes? I'm RELATED to this person! I share genetic traits with her. Luckily, that's about all I share with her.
--Little Bird is soon to be carved
Friday, November 6, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Train Stations
The train station in St. Louis is pretty new. And fantastic when compared with the last two they had. Oh, yes, St. Louis has a Union Station. But they turned that into a mall and a hotel. About 20 years or more ago. When the mall was new, it was really cool. Now that mall only has crap. And the hotel doesn't see half the business it used to. So while St. Louis had a great new mall, they still needed a downtown train stop. So they purchased and assembled one of those "temporary" buildings. The ones that on a smaller scale are often used as garden sheds. It was drafty and cold in the winter, and overly warm in the summer. It was referred to by locals as the "Amshack". So someone decided to build a new station stop. Same kind of building, only this was about 20 yards east and faced with bricks. It was still called an "Amshack". Finally someone (I assume someone else this time) realized that this stop is the first impression that many people have of the city. And rolling up to a tiny metal shed doesn't send the right message. Also, the station(s) were/are right near the new ballpark and the hockey arena, gotta keep up appearances! So now the station is bright, clean and has actual food vendors instead of vending machines. And the bathrooms aren't scary at the new place (I honestly don't know what the restrooms in the older places looked like, I could never bring myself to enter them). The new station is nice! The new station makes it easier to tell the difference between the normal people and the crazies.
To explain, the old place was a dump, and anyone can look crazy in a dump and everybody sort of blends in there for some reason. But in the new place, the crazies stand out. There was this guy there Monday. When he wasn't constantly moving from seat to seat, he could have looked normal. Except then he got up to wander around and a security guard turned around and the guy (let's call him Mr. Green) made a mad dash for the nearest available seat. It turns out that he'd been there awhile and been something of a problem. We watched this charade play out a few times until finally the guard told him (and his brother who did nothing to control Mr. Green) that he had to stay seated. In ONE seat. That's when we noticed that Mr. Green was a wee bit... twitchy. I was a bit worried that he would be on our train, but luckily he was taking the bus (Greyhound also uses the station). Other than that, the train experiences this trip were entirely uneventful.
The turducken has arrived!!! A ten pound hunk of birds within birds, along with some creole stuffing. The company that assembles them also sent along a canister of creole seasoning for any other dishes you might be making go go along with the bird(s). So this weekend it's off to get the rest of the necessary items. Green beans (in a can, ick) for the green bean casserole (also ick) and the other stuff for it. The stuff for the mashed potatoes and the mashed sweet potatoes and a few foil pans to cook and transport the food from my place to the staff lunch room. Here's hoping my cold is gone by then and I don't infect the entirety of my building maintenance staff!
Other than that, I have nothing new to report. Unless you want an update on the state of my cold. Which I strongly suggest that you don't.
--Little Bird will soon be cooking a big one
To explain, the old place was a dump, and anyone can look crazy in a dump and everybody sort of blends in there for some reason. But in the new place, the crazies stand out. There was this guy there Monday. When he wasn't constantly moving from seat to seat, he could have looked normal. Except then he got up to wander around and a security guard turned around and the guy (let's call him Mr. Green) made a mad dash for the nearest available seat. It turns out that he'd been there awhile and been something of a problem. We watched this charade play out a few times until finally the guard told him (and his brother who did nothing to control Mr. Green) that he had to stay seated. In ONE seat. That's when we noticed that Mr. Green was a wee bit... twitchy. I was a bit worried that he would be on our train, but luckily he was taking the bus (Greyhound also uses the station). Other than that, the train experiences this trip were entirely uneventful.
The turducken has arrived!!! A ten pound hunk of birds within birds, along with some creole stuffing. The company that assembles them also sent along a canister of creole seasoning for any other dishes you might be making go go along with the bird(s). So this weekend it's off to get the rest of the necessary items. Green beans (in a can, ick) for the green bean casserole (also ick) and the other stuff for it. The stuff for the mashed potatoes and the mashed sweet potatoes and a few foil pans to cook and transport the food from my place to the staff lunch room. Here's hoping my cold is gone by then and I don't infect the entirety of my building maintenance staff!
Other than that, I have nothing new to report. Unless you want an update on the state of my cold. Which I strongly suggest that you don't.
--Little Bird will soon be cooking a big one
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
I'mmm Baaaaaack
So, the trip to St. Louis went well! The costumes were great! Whirly Bird went as FLO from the Progressive commercials, and totally looked the part. My Julia Child costume looked eerily accurate (when I was standing next to the 5 foot 2 inch Whirly Bird that is). Rooster's revolutionary war british officer was fantastic. And Whirly Bird's beau went as an OB-GYN, with an offer of a free exam, that night only advertised on the back of his lab coat.
The night was cut a bit short by the cold that Whirly Bird and her beau both had. But we still made it out to some parties and bars. It wasn't too cold, but it was cold enough that we needed jackets.
We got to stop by a few neat shops the next day, and catch up with some of my old friends. I also got to pick up some of my favorite St. Louis foods. Red Hot Ripplets (Old Vienna) and Pasta Crunchers from a local restaurant.
Whirly Bird is a kind a generous hostess, she shared her home, her food AND her cold with us! I've been teasing her about that for the past two days. It's not her fault, I'd have gotten a cold anyway. It's how it works.
We did get to introduce Rooster to some only-in-St.-Louis delicacies. Like Imo's Pizza. With the cheese that sticks to your teeth. The cheese that (legend has it) was invented in St. Louis. Also the super thin cracker style of pizza the town is known for. Some local beers, and Steak n' Shake. I know, Steak n' Shake isn't St. Louis only, but I don't know where any are near me, so I only get to go to one when I'm there. Next time we'll take him out for toasted ravioli and find some gooey butter cake. And Vess soda.
Today I am all about the not doing anything. I am popping Advil cold and sinus like candy (every 4 hours or so). And drinking gatorade right now, trying to keep hydrated. I want to sleep. All day. Rooster wasn't too keen on that idea, but suffered through it for a while. But he had to get back to his place before the buses get packed. Poor thing has to go to work tomorrow. Yes, Rooster got the cold too. I can't even begin to tell him how sorry I am about that.
We took the train there and back, and it was an uneventful ride. No real delays (ten minutes doesn't count). We had plenty of food both ways (we picked up lunchables for the way home). There were no screaming children, nor creepy neighbors (on the train at least, the station is another story for tomorrow).
--Little Bird is staying in the nest today
The night was cut a bit short by the cold that Whirly Bird and her beau both had. But we still made it out to some parties and bars. It wasn't too cold, but it was cold enough that we needed jackets.
We got to stop by a few neat shops the next day, and catch up with some of my old friends. I also got to pick up some of my favorite St. Louis foods. Red Hot Ripplets (Old Vienna) and Pasta Crunchers from a local restaurant.
Whirly Bird is a kind a generous hostess, she shared her home, her food AND her cold with us! I've been teasing her about that for the past two days. It's not her fault, I'd have gotten a cold anyway. It's how it works.
We did get to introduce Rooster to some only-in-St.-Louis delicacies. Like Imo's Pizza. With the cheese that sticks to your teeth. The cheese that (legend has it) was invented in St. Louis. Also the super thin cracker style of pizza the town is known for. Some local beers, and Steak n' Shake. I know, Steak n' Shake isn't St. Louis only, but I don't know where any are near me, so I only get to go to one when I'm there. Next time we'll take him out for toasted ravioli and find some gooey butter cake. And Vess soda.
Today I am all about the not doing anything. I am popping Advil cold and sinus like candy (every 4 hours or so). And drinking gatorade right now, trying to keep hydrated. I want to sleep. All day. Rooster wasn't too keen on that idea, but suffered through it for a while. But he had to get back to his place before the buses get packed. Poor thing has to go to work tomorrow. Yes, Rooster got the cold too. I can't even begin to tell him how sorry I am about that.
We took the train there and back, and it was an uneventful ride. No real delays (ten minutes doesn't count). We had plenty of food both ways (we picked up lunchables for the way home). There were no screaming children, nor creepy neighbors (on the train at least, the station is another story for tomorrow).
--Little Bird is staying in the nest today
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
I Was On A Boat, Y'all
Jetskis are unpleasant machines. In my opinion at least. They are loud, they create a dangerous swimming environment, and they are loud. Yes, loud enough to complain twice. Also, unless they are on, they don't move in the water so well.
Allow me to explain. Yesterday a friend of mine was scheduled to take his boat from Chicago to Portage, Indiana. And he wanted to have a second set of hands on board, just in case. So he asked me to help. This being a chance to go for a spin on the boat, and of course enjoying that friends company, I agreed to help.
Before we could leave, however, we needed to drop off a jetski at a harbor just two or three harbors south of where the boat summers. So we attached a line to it and off we were. As soon as we got out into open water (past the breakwater) we sped up a little. And the line connecting the jetski to the boat... snapped. When we looked back we didn't see it and at first thought it was merely covered by the wake. So we had to circle around it a few times while I tried to reach out and snag it with the boat pole/hook. In order to do this we had to actually hit the damned thing to get it to sort of slide along the side of the boat so I could reach it.
Once it was secured we continued on our way, at a much slower pace. And as we turned a corner of the other harbors channel, the line snapped AGAIN!. This time we got it much faster, as the water was calmer and I resorted to looping the line around the steering column. Word to the wise. Don't attempt to tow a jetski by attaching the line around the steering column. The damned thing flipped over and we ended up towing it upside-down to the nearest dock. And I was so afraid we were going to damage the thing somehow, I got the pole out again and reached out to snag it and pulled it in -by the pole- and held it that way 'till we got to that dock. Once there we attached a whole new line to it and turned it upright. The owner of the jetski was waiting for us and we made the drop-off successfully. With a minor bonus of my getting to hurl a few life jackets at the guy. I officially hate jetskis now.
After that it was no problem. We pumped out the head (had to be done), and off we were. The trip across the lake was nice, if slightly bumpy. The marina we were headed to is down this small channel, kind of hard to see. The building near it used to be painted green. But now they've painted it beige, so it looks like all the other industrial buildings along the lake. It took us a bit to figure out exactly where we were going. Once in the channel the choppiness stopped and we had to go pretty slow. As we got close to our slip, I was standing on the bow, getting ready to throw the line to someone on the dock, and a beautiful heron flew across the channel, right in front of us. It was incredible! I have never seen one that close, and certainly not that close in flight. It was really quiet back there, and so peaceful.
Once docked it was a mad dash to get the boat ready for dry dock. Stuff to be put away, other stuff to be emptied. All the food on board had to come off, and oddly enough, all the booze stayed on board. We got a ride from one of the dock employees to the train stop and took the train back into the city. And while on the train we drank champagne, a tradition I'm told. Every trip back from taking the boat in for the winter he drinks champagne on the train. (Though I must say, we didn't drink champagne the first time I helped with this voyage, that time we ran out of booze much earlier in the evening (while at dock, we weren't boating and drinking) and had resorted to try drinking straight vermouth. Sweet vermouth. I do not recommend it.)
So, because of yesterdays excitement, I am beyond sore today. I hurt. And I have a LOT of stuff to get done before Thursday night.
I'll leave you with a question; what is the last voyage of a season called? Not a ships final voyage, but just the last one of the season.
--Little Bird survived
Allow me to explain. Yesterday a friend of mine was scheduled to take his boat from Chicago to Portage, Indiana. And he wanted to have a second set of hands on board, just in case. So he asked me to help. This being a chance to go for a spin on the boat, and of course enjoying that friends company, I agreed to help.
Before we could leave, however, we needed to drop off a jetski at a harbor just two or three harbors south of where the boat summers. So we attached a line to it and off we were. As soon as we got out into open water (past the breakwater) we sped up a little. And the line connecting the jetski to the boat... snapped. When we looked back we didn't see it and at first thought it was merely covered by the wake. So we had to circle around it a few times while I tried to reach out and snag it with the boat pole/hook. In order to do this we had to actually hit the damned thing to get it to sort of slide along the side of the boat so I could reach it.
Once it was secured we continued on our way, at a much slower pace. And as we turned a corner of the other harbors channel, the line snapped AGAIN!. This time we got it much faster, as the water was calmer and I resorted to looping the line around the steering column. Word to the wise. Don't attempt to tow a jetski by attaching the line around the steering column. The damned thing flipped over and we ended up towing it upside-down to the nearest dock. And I was so afraid we were going to damage the thing somehow, I got the pole out again and reached out to snag it and pulled it in -by the pole- and held it that way 'till we got to that dock. Once there we attached a whole new line to it and turned it upright. The owner of the jetski was waiting for us and we made the drop-off successfully. With a minor bonus of my getting to hurl a few life jackets at the guy. I officially hate jetskis now.
After that it was no problem. We pumped out the head (had to be done), and off we were. The trip across the lake was nice, if slightly bumpy. The marina we were headed to is down this small channel, kind of hard to see. The building near it used to be painted green. But now they've painted it beige, so it looks like all the other industrial buildings along the lake. It took us a bit to figure out exactly where we were going. Once in the channel the choppiness stopped and we had to go pretty slow. As we got close to our slip, I was standing on the bow, getting ready to throw the line to someone on the dock, and a beautiful heron flew across the channel, right in front of us. It was incredible! I have never seen one that close, and certainly not that close in flight. It was really quiet back there, and so peaceful.
Once docked it was a mad dash to get the boat ready for dry dock. Stuff to be put away, other stuff to be emptied. All the food on board had to come off, and oddly enough, all the booze stayed on board. We got a ride from one of the dock employees to the train stop and took the train back into the city. And while on the train we drank champagne, a tradition I'm told. Every trip back from taking the boat in for the winter he drinks champagne on the train. (Though I must say, we didn't drink champagne the first time I helped with this voyage, that time we ran out of booze much earlier in the evening (while at dock, we weren't boating and drinking) and had resorted to try drinking straight vermouth. Sweet vermouth. I do not recommend it.)
So, because of yesterdays excitement, I am beyond sore today. I hurt. And I have a LOT of stuff to get done before Thursday night.
I'll leave you with a question; what is the last voyage of a season called? Not a ships final voyage, but just the last one of the season.
--Little Bird survived
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Catharsis
Last night I was trying to think of a topic to write about for today. And I had a fantastic idea. Right before I fell asleep. No, of course I don't remember what it was. That would be silly. And unlikely to boot. So I'll just muddle on here, and see what I can come up with.
My trip to St. Louis is coming up, and the weather just keeps getting worse. I hope it's at least DRY this year. Rain would put a damper on things (no pun intended).
This weekend I am making a birthday dish for Mama Bird (birthday was while she was out of town) and I haven't a clue how to make it. It's that dish she had at that restaurant in Taos. The dish is Chiles en Nogado. I've found several recipes for it on-line but every time I tell her about them she says it's not the right thing. That hers was breaded. So this ought to be an interesting experience. I think the yelling in the kitchen is all part of the cooking experience anyway. It's cathartic. At least that's what I'm going to tell my step-father the next time he complains about our yelling.
Thanks to everybody for the container ideas for traveling with spices! I'll figure something out, I have some time left. I did realize that I need at least two containers by Thanksgiving, when Mama Bird and I go to New Harmony. For those that don't know, New Harmony is a tiny little town that has a lot of history to it. We like the quiet. And the quaint, antique-y feel the place has. We're getting a "cottage" this time (we haven't been in YEARS) so we can cook our own meals. The real plus side is the place has a fireplace. We get to sit in front of the fire and stare at it. While that might not sound like fun to everyone, for a couple of city-bound nerdy types, it's absolutely heaven. When we go to New Mexico, we stare at the fire there too. It's like taking a step back, and getting away from all the hustle and bustle. Stopping and taking a breath. Meditating. The fire is like a focus. It's always changing, but always the same.
--Little Bird takes a breath
My trip to St. Louis is coming up, and the weather just keeps getting worse. I hope it's at least DRY this year. Rain would put a damper on things (no pun intended).
This weekend I am making a birthday dish for Mama Bird (birthday was while she was out of town) and I haven't a clue how to make it. It's that dish she had at that restaurant in Taos. The dish is Chiles en Nogado. I've found several recipes for it on-line but every time I tell her about them she says it's not the right thing. That hers was breaded. So this ought to be an interesting experience. I think the yelling in the kitchen is all part of the cooking experience anyway. It's cathartic. At least that's what I'm going to tell my step-father the next time he complains about our yelling.
Thanks to everybody for the container ideas for traveling with spices! I'll figure something out, I have some time left. I did realize that I need at least two containers by Thanksgiving, when Mama Bird and I go to New Harmony. For those that don't know, New Harmony is a tiny little town that has a lot of history to it. We like the quiet. And the quaint, antique-y feel the place has. We're getting a "cottage" this time (we haven't been in YEARS) so we can cook our own meals. The real plus side is the place has a fireplace. We get to sit in front of the fire and stare at it. While that might not sound like fun to everyone, for a couple of city-bound nerdy types, it's absolutely heaven. When we go to New Mexico, we stare at the fire there too. It's like taking a step back, and getting away from all the hustle and bustle. Stopping and taking a breath. Meditating. The fire is like a focus. It's always changing, but always the same.
--Little Bird takes a breath
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Valley of the Dolls
Taking a cue from Nancy over at nancynall.com, I bring you this story from my childhood.
When I was very young I wanted a Barbie doll. All my friends had them. My cousins had them. But, alas, these dolls were not allowed in my house, by edict of Mama Bird. I know now why she didn't want them around. But I still don't agree with the ban on them. When I was eight or so I took it upon myself to buy my own damned Barbie doll. The western/cowgirl Barbie (I think I was still harboring dreams of becoming a Dallas Coyboys Cheerleader. Remember, I was born in Dallas, I couldn't help it.). She came with the hat and boots and a tiny rubber stamp that was a kiss mark. I was so proud of myself for getting it myself (I used my Christmas money) and my grandmother had no problem with me buying it. Mama Bird made me return it the next day, unopened, unplayed with.
Mama Bird thought that I would develop an unhealthy body image if I had Barbies around, what with their enormous boobs and microscopic waistline. That I would think that was how I should look. That I would somehow become as acquisitive as the dolls "character" (C'mon, the bitch had everything).
Eventually Mama Bird cracked, and for valentines day when I was about nine or ten, I got my first ever Barbie doll. Pink 'n Pretty was the version. She came with both a dress and slinky pink pants. I was over the moon. More Barbies followed that one and I ended up with quite a collection. Because you can't just have one. She's got to have friends. And boyfriends too.
I never thought I would look like Barbie. In fact the ones that I thought the prettiest weren't because of their figures. There was a tropical something or other friend of Barbie's who's name was Miko or something like that. Her facial features were exotic. And a few years later there was a strawberry blonde with green eyes I thought was pretty. I wanted her hair. Not the body shape. I wanted to wear make-up, and be a rock-star. Or a clothing shop owner. Or a vet. Barbie had sooooo many jobs over the years.
Because I had a few of them, and it was my constant desire to make everything the way I wanted it to look, I drew heavier make up on them. I tried to crimp the hair of one of them (yes, I had a crimper) and melted it all away. When I got even older I turned them in to punk Barbies, drawing tattoos on them and cutting up their clothes.
I don't think Barbie is the best role model for little girls. But I don't think she's the worst either. I think that if parents take the time to show them how ridiculous she looks, kids will be just fine playing with Barbies. Dolls are for make-believe. Pure fluff. Not for reflecting reality. That being said, I think the Barbie computer games and "movies" are awful. They make no allowances for pure imagination. And they totally push the "I must have every thing Barbie I can find" attitude.
I am able to look at Barbie now and make fun of her. More for the consumerism aspect of her and her world. You could take virtually anything, paint it pink and write Barbie across it and it would sell like hot-cakes. That's the part I totally agree with Mama Bird about.
--Little Bird does most emphatically NOT look like Barbie (and is still quite content)
When I was very young I wanted a Barbie doll. All my friends had them. My cousins had them. But, alas, these dolls were not allowed in my house, by edict of Mama Bird. I know now why she didn't want them around. But I still don't agree with the ban on them. When I was eight or so I took it upon myself to buy my own damned Barbie doll. The western/cowgirl Barbie (I think I was still harboring dreams of becoming a Dallas Coyboys Cheerleader. Remember, I was born in Dallas, I couldn't help it.). She came with the hat and boots and a tiny rubber stamp that was a kiss mark. I was so proud of myself for getting it myself (I used my Christmas money) and my grandmother had no problem with me buying it. Mama Bird made me return it the next day, unopened, unplayed with.
Mama Bird thought that I would develop an unhealthy body image if I had Barbies around, what with their enormous boobs and microscopic waistline. That I would think that was how I should look. That I would somehow become as acquisitive as the dolls "character" (C'mon, the bitch had everything).
Eventually Mama Bird cracked, and for valentines day when I was about nine or ten, I got my first ever Barbie doll. Pink 'n Pretty was the version. She came with both a dress and slinky pink pants. I was over the moon. More Barbies followed that one and I ended up with quite a collection. Because you can't just have one. She's got to have friends. And boyfriends too.
I never thought I would look like Barbie. In fact the ones that I thought the prettiest weren't because of their figures. There was a tropical something or other friend of Barbie's who's name was Miko or something like that. Her facial features were exotic. And a few years later there was a strawberry blonde with green eyes I thought was pretty. I wanted her hair. Not the body shape. I wanted to wear make-up, and be a rock-star. Or a clothing shop owner. Or a vet. Barbie had sooooo many jobs over the years.
Because I had a few of them, and it was my constant desire to make everything the way I wanted it to look, I drew heavier make up on them. I tried to crimp the hair of one of them (yes, I had a crimper) and melted it all away. When I got even older I turned them in to punk Barbies, drawing tattoos on them and cutting up their clothes.
I don't think Barbie is the best role model for little girls. But I don't think she's the worst either. I think that if parents take the time to show them how ridiculous she looks, kids will be just fine playing with Barbies. Dolls are for make-believe. Pure fluff. Not for reflecting reality. That being said, I think the Barbie computer games and "movies" are awful. They make no allowances for pure imagination. And they totally push the "I must have every thing Barbie I can find" attitude.
I am able to look at Barbie now and make fun of her. More for the consumerism aspect of her and her world. You could take virtually anything, paint it pink and write Barbie across it and it would sell like hot-cakes. That's the part I totally agree with Mama Bird about.
--Little Bird does most emphatically NOT look like Barbie (and is still quite content)
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Mixed Bag
It is cold here in Chicago. Nasty cold. The windy kind of cold that wouldn't really be so cold if it weren't for the damned wind! Every year about this time I am reminded that while I own elebenty million coats/jackets (seems like it anyway), I do not own the right kind of jacket for this kind of weather. A windbreaker with fleece lining. Maybe a little bit of batting in there for extra warmth. I have wind breakers. I have fleece jackets. But one does not fit so easily under the other. So, maybe this year I'll finally get that holy grail of jackets.
In the plan for today is SOUP! (What else would you have expected from me?) But I'm switching up the recipe. I'm making a butternut squash soup, just not exactly according to the book. I figure I'll roast the squash, then simmer it in broth with onion and seasonings. Once the squash is really tender, I'll add some cream and puree the stuff. If it works, I'll be sure to tell you what exactly I did (if I can). If it doesn't, I'll.... I'll... figure something out.
Mama Bird and Co. are in New Mexico again. I'm only slightly jealous this time. They've been on the land, they've been to a party (Mama Birds birthday was Sunday), they had to get pulled out of a ditch. Dirt/gravel roads don't really have a shoulder, just ditches. Luckily, no one was injured, not even the car. They're there for a few more days, enjoying the quiet and the views. I used to think that the desert (in this case the high desert) would be an ugly place. Dry, barren, with nothing to see. It is dry, but that's the only thing I got right, and even that was only half right. There is a small river near where we stay, and a reservoir big enough to go boating on. There are colors in the mountains that you might not expect, pinks, yellows, and deep reds. When the sun hits them at sunset, they're amazing. (I'm told that they are equally amazing at sunrise, but I can't confirm that. I don't get up that early unless forced to. And then I'm so bleary eyed and cranky, the landscape is the last thing I'm paying attention to.)
I recently figured out that the tomato tart might not be the best idea to cook for Whirly Bird and her boyfriend while I'm in St. Louis, so I need some suggestions. Got any?
Little Bird is on a quest
In the plan for today is SOUP! (What else would you have expected from me?) But I'm switching up the recipe. I'm making a butternut squash soup, just not exactly according to the book. I figure I'll roast the squash, then simmer it in broth with onion and seasonings. Once the squash is really tender, I'll add some cream and puree the stuff. If it works, I'll be sure to tell you what exactly I did (if I can). If it doesn't, I'll.... I'll... figure something out.
Mama Bird and Co. are in New Mexico again. I'm only slightly jealous this time. They've been on the land, they've been to a party (Mama Birds birthday was Sunday), they had to get pulled out of a ditch. Dirt/gravel roads don't really have a shoulder, just ditches. Luckily, no one was injured, not even the car. They're there for a few more days, enjoying the quiet and the views. I used to think that the desert (in this case the high desert) would be an ugly place. Dry, barren, with nothing to see. It is dry, but that's the only thing I got right, and even that was only half right. There is a small river near where we stay, and a reservoir big enough to go boating on. There are colors in the mountains that you might not expect, pinks, yellows, and deep reds. When the sun hits them at sunset, they're amazing. (I'm told that they are equally amazing at sunrise, but I can't confirm that. I don't get up that early unless forced to. And then I'm so bleary eyed and cranky, the landscape is the last thing I'm paying attention to.)
I recently figured out that the tomato tart might not be the best idea to cook for Whirly Bird and her boyfriend while I'm in St. Louis, so I need some suggestions. Got any?
Little Bird is on a quest
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