oh blogger, where art thou?
September 3rd, 2008 @ 7:39 pm | life | Comments (20)I feel like I should at least pop in and tell you all what I’ve been up to. I’ve written out whole blog posts in my head several times, but haven’t sat down at the computer to type them out. If only I could hire someone to be my mindreader, they could blog for me!
If I had to sum up these last two weeks, the theme would probably be: I got a lot of blisters on my feet. And I earned every last one of them.
First I went to NYC and back in one day, and in that one day I walked, in heels, through Newark, NJ, the World Trade Center site, Rockfeller Plaza, Madison Square Gardens, and a building with a great view of the Chrysler Building. I love DC and all, but New York never fails to just blow me away. I don’t think I could ever live there, but anyone who tries to compare DC to NYC is just delusional.
Then I flew home to Denver, where I was supposed to be on semi-vacation but really I ended up working almost all week at the Convention. It was so cool though — I got to go to the Pepsi center for the speeches 2 of 3 nights, and into Mile High Stadium for Obama’s speech on Thursday. Freaking awesome. I also spent an inordinate amount of time in the lobby of the Ritz Carlton Hotel spotting celebs like Anderson Cooper and various political celebs you’ve probably never heard of, but I was impressed with because I’m a total geek like that. I also walked about 140 bajillion miles around Denver, in heels. And slept 4-5 hours each night.
At one point I think I had blisters on both big toes, the balls of both feet, the underside of my left ring toe, and the top of my right middle toe. OUCH. And also, EW.
Toward the end of the week I started feeling a little twinge in my throat, and there is nothing like turning one mean germ into full blown illness than being sleep deprived and hanging out with 84,000 other people in a stadium, and then boarding a plane with 200 more germy people at 6 AM (why, god?). By the time we got back to DC, I was half dead.
And then my in-laws came to town!
So perhaps you can now understand the lack of blogging. This week my goals are a bit more modest. Like go to work, and do some laundry.
How are all of you, lovely readers?
love & hate midsummer edition
August 19th, 2008 @ 11:02 pm | love & hate | Comments (17)love: girls’ weekend was très fun, and went by all too fast
hate: dare I out myself as a boring old lady and admit we did not even come close to finishing the wine? I’m not sure why, but the weekend was far more tame than weekends past. but still v fun!
love: we cooked the best breakfast ever one morning. With three kinds of salsa.
hate: I haven’t posted any of my recipes! I suck! but you must make that breakfast.
love: my business card got drawn at my local Starbucks to become their #1 Very Special Person Who Shall Receive Free Drinks All Week Long
hate: Seriously! Free drinks! I guess the only thing to hate is the extra calories that I cannot turn away because they were FREE?
love: I’m going on quasi-vacation next week
hate: first I have to do a day of meetings in New Jersey and New York. SRSLY?
love: Olympic male swimmers, especially the relay teams. Hubba hubba.
hate: swimming is over, and track stars just don’t really do it for me
love: bagels with cream cheese and juicy tomato slices, doesn’t that sounds SO GOOD?
hate: that I didn’t grow my own tomatoes this year – remind me to plant some next year please?
love: I just checked my archives, and I totally missed the occasion of my blog’s three year birthday! Maybe I’ll work on a blogiversary post this week? How does one celebrate such a thing?
hate: I finally decided that every time I watched The Hills I was making PsychoSpeidi a little richer, so I have successfully deleted the show from my TiVo lineup. And it feels so good to rid my life of something I loved to hate!
Leave your mid-week, mid-summer loves and hates in the comments!
ode to vin
August 13th, 2008 @ 10:47 pm | blonde moments, girl time | Comments (28)I know it’s only Wednesday, but I already have the weekend on my mind. One of my best girlfriends is coming to town tomorrow and we’re having an Official Girls Weekend. If history is any indicator, it’s going to be really fun. Tonight, in preparation, I bought some wine.
Oh, come on, you didn’t think three bottles would be enough, did you? How about five?
Yes, yes. That seems more reasonable. Except that we ladies are not about reason. We are about staying up all night talking and laughing! Which is why I bought seven bottles.
And yes, they are almost all Chardonnay, with some Vinho Verde in there too. What can I say? Girls know what girls like.
Wine (and booze) has led to fun times in the past. Like my bachelorette party.
Or that one time, in Akron, when we stayed up ’til sunrise talking about godknowswhat, laughing and definitely waking up the neighbors.
That was also the year we started our annual sewing projects. We made sleeping masks. And, oh golly, did we need those masks for our hangovers the next morningafternoon.
The next year, wine fueled us into an apron-making frenzy.
And then, there was this one time, in a remote cabin in the Pennsylvania woods…
I honestly don’t even know how to describe that last photo collage. Except to say: WINE.
It promises to be a great weekend, and I should also come clean and say that, honestly…
…I bought eight bottles. Wish us luck!
operation dumb blonde
August 7th, 2008 @ 10:18 pm | blonde moments | Comments (25)I almost forgot — I have a blog! Maybe perhaps you would like an update? I have been forgetting things left and right lately. Well, not so much forgetting, but — take tonight, for example. I got my hair cut after work, then did some shopping (bought the branch hooks and some elbow-length knit shirts, both items have been lingering on my wish list) and hopped on the Metro to go home. Granted, it’s not my usual stop, but it’s not like I’ve never gotten myself home from Chinatown before. But OOPS. I missed my transfer, and ended up at the Pentagon. The wait was super long for the next yellow line train so I just took the blue line all the way over the hill and through the woods… and about 87 stops and a few near-vomits later I was home. So, yeah, my brain is a little bit gone these days.
Perhaps you read elsewhere that I hosted a little blogger party at my house last weekend. It was super fun, and if I didn’t invite you, I swear it was an accident. See forgetfulness above. (Really, I am all about being inclusive. Sharing the love and all that.) But anyway, somehow after a bottle of vodka and several bottles of wine (and I mean collectively here. I am not THAT big of a lush) I ended up locking myself out of the house whilst saying goodbye to everyone.
I had a key to the screen door, but not to the inner door, the one that was locked. Luckily, my screen door key also works at my back door, so it was just a matter of getting into the back yard to get to the back door. Sounds easy enough, except that I live in a rowhouse, so in order to get to my back door I have to:
- Walk to the other end of my street, turn the corner.
- Walk halfway up this street and enter an alley way.
- (Have I mentioned I sort of live in the ‘hood?)
- Walk all the way back into the alley, which snakes around into several twists and turns and gets darker and leafier and sketchier as you go.
- Yes, THIS alley. With the cheetah.
- Find something tall to stand on, like a trash can.
- Hop the fence.
- Open the back door.
No problem, right?! The completely nice and lovely (and hardened Baltimore resident) Jen kindly insisted that she would come with me to try to break into my own house. Everyone else had already left, and it was me and Jen and potentially a cheetah and also murderers, drug dealers, and rapists. NO BIGGIE.
So we get about 3/4 into the alley when it gets completely dark and we think we hear a rustling noise. Obviously, we squeal and run away right on back out of the alley. For the record, Jen totally kept her cool. I probably did most of the squealing and running.
Thank god about this time my husband calls and says he is almost home. I freed sent Jen on her way and husband and I went back into the alley armed with a wind-up flashlight and a nine iron. I KNEW there was a reason we kept the golf clubs in the trunk permanently.
Thankfully, I think our squealing probably scared off whatever homeless drug dealer murderers live in my alley, and husband was able to hop the fence and bust us into the house just fine.
I believe that the moral of the story is: Maybe I should get a new key for the front door. And also? My blogfriends totally have my back.
Happy Friday to all. Come back soon so I can tell you all about my experiment in making bacon rice krispie treats and how 5 out of 7 bloggers dared to eat them. Would you?
whip it up vegetarian week: spicy black bean cakes
July 28th, 2008 @ 9:54 pm | food | Comments (17)As I was making this meal tonight, I was composing this blog post in my head, illustrated, Pioneer Woman style. God, I love that woman’s blog. The post in my head was so brilliant, so witty, so charming, just like hers always are. But of course now I’ve eaten dinner and downloaded my crappy photos, and have totally lost all brilliance, wit, and charm. Ha, as if I ever really had it!
I went through several phases while cooking these black bean cakes. 1. Excited! I’ve wanted to make these for a long time. 2. Fatigue. Seriously, all this work for a little turdball bean patty? 3. Satisfaction. They were really yummy, so maybe it was all worth it. And? This is a big AND. My husband, lover of meat and sauce, skeptic of vegetables that are not named onion, liked them so much he even got himself seconds. (!)
The hardest part about making these is all the chopping/prep, and staying one step ahead. By the time you get to the pan-frying at the end, that’s the super easy part.
It starts with chopping and sautéeing ingrediets for the patties. Onions, jalepeño, bell pepper, garlic, grated zucchini, cumin, cayenne, a wee bit of chipotle in adobo sauce.
Throw all of that in a bowl and add in 3/4 of a can of black beans. Bust out your awesome hand mixer (I know you have one because they are the Best. Things. Ever!) and give them a little whir. You know, until it looks like barf. Sorry.
At this point, I started adding all kinds of things that weren’t on the original recipe, and some that were. Panko bread crumbs, the rest of the black beans (so there are a variety of textures), taco seasoning (my little secret), green onions, and honestly I can’t remember what else. Oh! Parmesan cheese. Because, why not?
Here is where things got a wee bit out of control. You have to take this bowl of bean goo, form it into patties, dip it in flour, dip it in egg, dip it in bread crumbs, and lay it in a hot pan with a little oil in it to pan fry. It’s MESSY. I wasn’t going to risk the life and liberty of my iPhone to get a photo of the process, so you’ll just have to trust me on this one. It kind of looks like this in the end.
Now you can finally breathe because you’re almost done. Oh, and you can start to wash the 14 dishes you just dirtied.
The toppings are the key to making this a complete meal. I served the cakes/patties/turdballs with diced tomatoes, avocado chunks, fresh lime wedges, baby spinach, shredded cheese, and chipotle sour cream. I made the chipotle sour cream by combining a few tablespoons of light sour cream with the juice of half a lime and about 1/4 of a chipotle in adobo sauce. It was hot and cool all at once.
Wanna see it all together again?
I ended up flying by the seat of my pants and not really measuring anything, as well as adding in ingredients on a whim, but I used these two online recipes as my starting point: Crispy Black Bean Cakes from more bread and cheese please! and Crispy Black Bean Cake Salad at The Kitchen Sink.
Both recipes were easy to follow, and easy to modify. The dish tasted really good, better than I was expecting even. I probably will make the dish again, but only if I can employ my sous chef to help with all the chopping and clearing out dishes once they get dirty.
This is one meal you can feel good about eating. Lots of vitamins and fiber, and no animals harmed or husbands starved in the process.
