Hysterical article in St. Petersburg Times, March 27, about Mystery Monkey and his tweets. Google "Mystery Monkey of Tampa Bay." Then click on "Mystery Monkey of St. Petersburg enjoys tweeting, cocktails." You'll love it, it's a scream.
I now own my very own personal copy of The Pioneer Woman Cooks. I'm going to cook my way through it, like Julie and Julia. I've noticed that PW'S cowboy's grandmother is named Edna Mae. HINT, HINT to one of my loyal readers who once had a plucky pet chicken of the self-same name. Edna Mae always made lighter-than-air sour cream pancakes (the grandmother, not the chicken, though that wouldn't have surprised me). This is going to be fun, I'm inspired. Too bad PW'S name is Ree and my name is Kathy, or, well, KEM. Too bad I don't have DTD'S name, then I could have a future movie made about me called Reese and Ree. KEM and Ree has no rhythm or cadence whatsoever. Pooh. If there is one thing I've done right for DTD, it's the name I gave her . . . Carese. Isn't that gorgeous? I have big bad stories about the name Carese and all the coincidences we've stumbled upon (little God gifts, of course).
You wanna know something? I'm pooped. And I have to go practice pianer, and I don't wanna go practice pianer. I'm in a big bad slump. Pooh. So go ahead and read about Mystery Monkey on Twitter, 'cause I have nuthin' else to say tonight. Except I became the 700th person to become a fan of The 5 Browns (so it seemed to me because there were 699 and then I clicked Become A Fan and then it said 700). This happened the other night. Exciting, huh? I watched a video clip of Gregory Brown and he was sitting on a sofa holding his squirmy grey cat. The cat looked exactly like what Earl Grey would have looked like all grown up. Pooh. Except Earl Grey would have sat calmly and politely.
The earth is bogging down, or should that be blogging down?, KEM certainly is . . . bogged down, that is. KEM
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
Three things of import.
#1) Nothing Makes It Dazzle Like Finazzle (or whatever it's called) bleached out my colored grout on shower floor. What was once appropriate gray is now a ghastly white-ish in big areas, it's all uneven. Not happy. Not happy AT ALL. The directions said to test on an inconspicuous spot because it might lighten colored grout. This is the only true thing I have read on the label so far. Too bad I didn't believe it -- concentrated too much on the word "might." Well, I've regretted the walk-in shower and now I shall have to put a tub in, which I way prefer anyhow, now that I know what I prefer. JK, Mike is probably having a stroke if he's reading this. Thank goodness I didn't spray McDazzle all over the walls, just a little towards the bottom, which tiles will be ripped out to make way for tub anyway. Maybe it would be easier to move.
#2) Even though I was ill today I rallied late in the afternoon to make Deviled Eggs. Sweet Tulsa knows how I love and crave egg salad, so she sent me her tricks for perfect hard-boiled eggs. These were THE BEST hard-boiled eggs I've ever made, hands down. She heard a man from Farmers' Almanac talking on the radio, and good for Sweet Tulsa, paying attention like that. Like I've said before, she is very alert.
What you do is place eggs in pan (I took mine out of the fridge 15 minutes prior), add cold water to cover by an inch, a little white vinegar (I only had Paul Bragg's Apple Cider Vinegar and, with much fear and trepidation, used that instead), and, the real kicker, add a match stick (break off the fire tip and throw away). What on earth a tipless match stick does, I'd love to know, wouldn't you?, but did something it did. Then you bring to a boil and boil (gently) for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand another 5 minutes. Drain, add ice water and peel shortly thereafter. At least that's what I did. When my eggs sit, they seem impossible to peel. And these were brown eggs, which I read are more difficult to peel than white. Usually, I have 10 strokes while trying to peel eggs, especially for Deviled eggs, 'cause they end up looking so mangled, who wants to bring those to the birthday party? These eggs peeled with nary a stroke. Only one egg ended up looking mauled, an ornery hen must have laid that one. I was tickled to pieces, thank you, Sweet Tulsa. No dark rings around the yolks, just perfection.
Now I'm waiting for Sweet Tulsa's mother's chocolate gravy recipe and Angel Biscuits. Still need sour cream for the Most Fattening B's. All my flat biscuits are finally gone, it took a full week to dispose of those properly.
#3) When we arrived at the birthday party fashionable late (which is why Mike always signs us up for dessert not o'hrdurves [okay, I'll never be able to spell that ridiculous word and spellcheck is not helping me out], but this time we didn't have a choice), everyone cheered when they saw me carrying a plate of Deviled Eggs. That made me feel good. And you know what, it's CHEAP! A carton of eggs, 1/3 cup mayo, 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard, a heaping teaspoon of sweet relish, drained and salt and pepper. All you need is about 45 minutes. SMART. The lady who walked in behind us was carrying a plate of roundish objects with, don't say it, OLIVES, garnishing the tops. I was afraid we now had two trays of DE's, and it was a smallish party. Don't want to put people in the awkward position of choosing between DE's, you know? But hers were cucumber rounds crowned with crab goulash and Queen olives, whew. I loved the olives but didn't want to repeat the tossing-the-olives game, so held myself to two.
Well, when I ate one of my eggs, it was the best I'd ever made. The white of the egg was very tender and the yolks mixture was just the right amount of flavor and moistness (word?). They all went bye-bye 30 minutes into the party, that's almost an egg a minute, I myself helping myself to two of them (the laborer is worthy of her hire, or some such thing). Oh yeah, and I didn't have paprika to sprinkle on top, so I substituted a tiny amount of chili powder, for some color, just a speck.
Well, but what #3 is really all about is that I learned something I need to go back and insert into the blog (September) I did for the birthday boy's wife, Peg Green. She died after a courageous battle with pancreatic cancer. He was asked to make a speech tonight and so he told a story of how Peg always made birthdays so special for everyone in the family, that was one of her things held sacred. So, Bob was in the military and they were stationed somewhere (duh) when she had to have their first baby. See, Bob's 75th birthday is really tomorrow, but today is his firstborn's birthday. When he got to the hospital on his birthday, Peg said, I'm sorry, I don't have a birthday present for you. He replied, Oh, you have given me the best present of all.
So, Peg's virtue lives on, so thoughtful a loving lady was she. (I just went Old English.)
The party was nice, but difficult to face your first birthday post the great loss. He said the year they celebrated their 50th Anniversary, that is exactly what they did, celebrate it the whole year. Whenever they had a glass of wine, they toasted to their 50 splendid years together. Sweet, sweet. Someone said, You must have toasted every day then. Someone else said, Or two or three times a day. All in good fun.
Okay, it's an egg (as opposed to a wrap),
KEM
#1) Nothing Makes It Dazzle Like Finazzle (or whatever it's called) bleached out my colored grout on shower floor. What was once appropriate gray is now a ghastly white-ish in big areas, it's all uneven. Not happy. Not happy AT ALL. The directions said to test on an inconspicuous spot because it might lighten colored grout. This is the only true thing I have read on the label so far. Too bad I didn't believe it -- concentrated too much on the word "might." Well, I've regretted the walk-in shower and now I shall have to put a tub in, which I way prefer anyhow, now that I know what I prefer. JK, Mike is probably having a stroke if he's reading this. Thank goodness I didn't spray McDazzle all over the walls, just a little towards the bottom, which tiles will be ripped out to make way for tub anyway. Maybe it would be easier to move.
#2) Even though I was ill today I rallied late in the afternoon to make Deviled Eggs. Sweet Tulsa knows how I love and crave egg salad, so she sent me her tricks for perfect hard-boiled eggs. These were THE BEST hard-boiled eggs I've ever made, hands down. She heard a man from Farmers' Almanac talking on the radio, and good for Sweet Tulsa, paying attention like that. Like I've said before, she is very alert.
What you do is place eggs in pan (I took mine out of the fridge 15 minutes prior), add cold water to cover by an inch, a little white vinegar (I only had Paul Bragg's Apple Cider Vinegar and, with much fear and trepidation, used that instead), and, the real kicker, add a match stick (break off the fire tip and throw away). What on earth a tipless match stick does, I'd love to know, wouldn't you?, but did something it did. Then you bring to a boil and boil (gently) for 5 minutes. Remove from heat and let stand another 5 minutes. Drain, add ice water and peel shortly thereafter. At least that's what I did. When my eggs sit, they seem impossible to peel. And these were brown eggs, which I read are more difficult to peel than white. Usually, I have 10 strokes while trying to peel eggs, especially for Deviled eggs, 'cause they end up looking so mangled, who wants to bring those to the birthday party? These eggs peeled with nary a stroke. Only one egg ended up looking mauled, an ornery hen must have laid that one. I was tickled to pieces, thank you, Sweet Tulsa. No dark rings around the yolks, just perfection.
Now I'm waiting for Sweet Tulsa's mother's chocolate gravy recipe and Angel Biscuits. Still need sour cream for the Most Fattening B's. All my flat biscuits are finally gone, it took a full week to dispose of those properly.
#3) When we arrived at the birthday party fashionable late (which is why Mike always signs us up for dessert not o'hrdurves [okay, I'll never be able to spell that ridiculous word and spellcheck is not helping me out], but this time we didn't have a choice), everyone cheered when they saw me carrying a plate of Deviled Eggs. That made me feel good. And you know what, it's CHEAP! A carton of eggs, 1/3 cup mayo, 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard, a heaping teaspoon of sweet relish, drained and salt and pepper. All you need is about 45 minutes. SMART. The lady who walked in behind us was carrying a plate of roundish objects with, don't say it, OLIVES, garnishing the tops. I was afraid we now had two trays of DE's, and it was a smallish party. Don't want to put people in the awkward position of choosing between DE's, you know? But hers were cucumber rounds crowned with crab goulash and Queen olives, whew. I loved the olives but didn't want to repeat the tossing-the-olives game, so held myself to two.
Well, when I ate one of my eggs, it was the best I'd ever made. The white of the egg was very tender and the yolks mixture was just the right amount of flavor and moistness (word?). They all went bye-bye 30 minutes into the party, that's almost an egg a minute, I myself helping myself to two of them (the laborer is worthy of her hire, or some such thing). Oh yeah, and I didn't have paprika to sprinkle on top, so I substituted a tiny amount of chili powder, for some color, just a speck.
Well, but what #3 is really all about is that I learned something I need to go back and insert into the blog (September) I did for the birthday boy's wife, Peg Green. She died after a courageous battle with pancreatic cancer. He was asked to make a speech tonight and so he told a story of how Peg always made birthdays so special for everyone in the family, that was one of her things held sacred. So, Bob was in the military and they were stationed somewhere (duh) when she had to have their first baby. See, Bob's 75th birthday is really tomorrow, but today is his firstborn's birthday. When he got to the hospital on his birthday, Peg said, I'm sorry, I don't have a birthday present for you. He replied, Oh, you have given me the best present of all.
So, Peg's virtue lives on, so thoughtful a loving lady was she. (I just went Old English.)
The party was nice, but difficult to face your first birthday post the great loss. He said the year they celebrated their 50th Anniversary, that is exactly what they did, celebrate it the whole year. Whenever they had a glass of wine, they toasted to their 50 splendid years together. Sweet, sweet. Someone said, You must have toasted every day then. Someone else said, Or two or three times a day. All in good fun.
Okay, it's an egg (as opposed to a wrap),
KEM
Thursday, March 25, 2010
This morning (just past noon) when I got up, the first thing I did was set my timer for 15 minutes. And I went at it all the way up to choir practice, 6 hours later. Every 15 minutes the digital Lux would ding (beep) and I'd repush start. I really tried to keep moving. It was fun. Except I have absolutely NOTHING to show for my hard labor except acute exhaustion. Really, not sure what I did for those multiple, multiple 15 minute segments.
I washed ALL the linens on the bed, who is going to know that? The mattress cover, the blanket, bedspread, quilt. I know it, Mike will know it when I point it out. And now I guess my blogees know it. I did all my daily chores I normally reserve for 1:00 AM. I practiced the piano for 15 minutes. Folded clothes. Cleaned the shower floor with that Razzle Dazzle grout cleaner, or whatever it is. It had a familiar pungent odor (right on the label it brags, NO ODOR). It did not clean the black in the grout. I think I'm reduced to scraping a speck of black out every day with my fingernail. Really, I am disappointed (sorta outraged) that McDazzle didn't do the job. At that outrageous price, yeah, I'm outraged, I want my money back, I already used 1/3 of the bottle. ACE will probably say, We don't do refunds for stupid people. And I'll say, Then I'm not buying anymore of your caramels . . . or anything else either.
Okay, so I'm tired. I know I gotta be sweet as pie if I want to get anywhere in this here world of bad service and products (not a blanket statement, mind you). Today I called the roofer, who has yet to do the shed-attached-to-the-house roof. I said on his voicemail, We just wondered when you are coming to do the shed, since you are our favorite roofer and all. By golly, he called back within 5 minutes and he sounded Eager Beaver. He's hurting, business is down to the ground. I hope we can come up with some other work for him, even though his helper got white paint drops on both my dark brown awnings. HELLLLLOOOOOO!?!?!?!?! Anyway, his excuse for not finishing the job was he was in Washington, DC, for the past many weeks, shoveling snow off of roofs. I said, Do you think the wood (big sheet of plywood for shed roof) is still good? He said, H____ NO!, I'll get you a new piece. He is pretty funny, he's a downright character, a good guy. I want to help everyone I can in this economy, my heart goes out to them, been there, done that, and we take nothing for granted anymore.
DTD was over here tonight, she comes a lot because she doesn't have Internet connection and she has to check her FB and all. She was glowing happy and it turns out it wasn't a boyfriend, it was that a Secret Shopper gave her a perfect score of 100 for the service rendered (DTD works as a server in a quaint park/waterfront small restaurant). The Secret Shopper was especially interested in the table next to hers, where the customers were dissatisfied with everything that came out of the kitchen. SOME PEOPLE. I'm proud of DTD. Her fine report is up on the bulletin board for all to see and be in awe.
Cutting Out,
KEM
I washed ALL the linens on the bed, who is going to know that? The mattress cover, the blanket, bedspread, quilt. I know it, Mike will know it when I point it out. And now I guess my blogees know it. I did all my daily chores I normally reserve for 1:00 AM. I practiced the piano for 15 minutes. Folded clothes. Cleaned the shower floor with that Razzle Dazzle grout cleaner, or whatever it is. It had a familiar pungent odor (right on the label it brags, NO ODOR). It did not clean the black in the grout. I think I'm reduced to scraping a speck of black out every day with my fingernail. Really, I am disappointed (sorta outraged) that McDazzle didn't do the job. At that outrageous price, yeah, I'm outraged, I want my money back, I already used 1/3 of the bottle. ACE will probably say, We don't do refunds for stupid people. And I'll say, Then I'm not buying anymore of your caramels . . . or anything else either.
Okay, so I'm tired. I know I gotta be sweet as pie if I want to get anywhere in this here world of bad service and products (not a blanket statement, mind you). Today I called the roofer, who has yet to do the shed-attached-to-the-house roof. I said on his voicemail, We just wondered when you are coming to do the shed, since you are our favorite roofer and all. By golly, he called back within 5 minutes and he sounded Eager Beaver. He's hurting, business is down to the ground. I hope we can come up with some other work for him, even though his helper got white paint drops on both my dark brown awnings. HELLLLLOOOOOO!?!?!?!?! Anyway, his excuse for not finishing the job was he was in Washington, DC, for the past many weeks, shoveling snow off of roofs. I said, Do you think the wood (big sheet of plywood for shed roof) is still good? He said, H____ NO!, I'll get you a new piece. He is pretty funny, he's a downright character, a good guy. I want to help everyone I can in this economy, my heart goes out to them, been there, done that, and we take nothing for granted anymore.
DTD was over here tonight, she comes a lot because she doesn't have Internet connection and she has to check her FB and all. She was glowing happy and it turns out it wasn't a boyfriend, it was that a Secret Shopper gave her a perfect score of 100 for the service rendered (DTD works as a server in a quaint park/waterfront small restaurant). The Secret Shopper was especially interested in the table next to hers, where the customers were dissatisfied with everything that came out of the kitchen. SOME PEOPLE. I'm proud of DTD. Her fine report is up on the bulletin board for all to see and be in awe.
Cutting Out,
KEM
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Mystery Monkey of Tampa Bay
That monkey I told you about? Guess where his mug showed up? Yep, on AOL. I couldn't believe it! "Monkey On the Loose in Florida!" Ha, ha, you heard it here first!
I shall summarize the video clip, which was on the Today Show or somewhere, in case you missed it. Also, lots of articles have been written on the monkey. This monkey knows how to cross the street, he looks both ways. He knows to stay out of power lines. He has covered 50 square miles in the Tampa Bay area. They showed a map with red push pins to show where the monkey has been spotted. He got from Tampa to St. Pete somehow. He either cruised down the beaches, swam seven miles across the bay, walked the bridge, hitched a ride or was a stow-away. Now, he has his own Facebook page, which I forgot to look at, which I can't believe I forgot. What kind of a reporter am I? I think he's under Mystery Monkey of Tampa Bay.
One wildlife guy is tired of being made a fool. When they shot the monkey up in the tree with a tranquilizer, the monkey merely threw down some naughty matter on them and proceeded to take a nap on a branch. Today my Jinny said that the monkey knows how to pull out the tranquilizers. At the end a girl summed up this monkey's tactics by saying, The assailant fled.
He is fast becoming an International Superstar. No kidding, I did just check Facebook and he has 39,393 fans from all over and I made it 39,394. I think Jinny should be very proud that she stood under the palm tree where the monkey was shaking and rattling fronds. She said someone in Driftwood saw it down on a beach, there are many little private beaches in the backyards. When the monkey got out of the pool the other day, he helped himself to a grapefruit before running away. A monkey has to keep up his strength, you know.
One official said the monkey was not outwitting his would-be captors, but avoiding them, claiming monkeys have had millions of years to become strong and fast. You can just guess what I think of THAT! But the monkey has been seen around, even scaling a condominium wall.
Okay, enough monkey business, although I am thinking about going to spend the night with Jinny to see what I can see. Maybe I'll leave him a banana, except they are saying not to feed it, that this monkey could bite and claw a grown man, pulverize him. Even though the monkey is only 21 inches tall and 15 pounds. Jazzi weighs 17 pounds. Wow, this must be a tiny monkey. He looked bigger in his pictures.
I need to go finish squeezing the last of the tangeloes, before they rot on the floor, they are close, here today, gone tomorrow, that's how fast they can bite the dust. Maybe I could leave monkey a tangelo, too.
I shall summarize the video clip, which was on the Today Show or somewhere, in case you missed it. Also, lots of articles have been written on the monkey. This monkey knows how to cross the street, he looks both ways. He knows to stay out of power lines. He has covered 50 square miles in the Tampa Bay area. They showed a map with red push pins to show where the monkey has been spotted. He got from Tampa to St. Pete somehow. He either cruised down the beaches, swam seven miles across the bay, walked the bridge, hitched a ride or was a stow-away. Now, he has his own Facebook page, which I forgot to look at, which I can't believe I forgot. What kind of a reporter am I? I think he's under Mystery Monkey of Tampa Bay.
One wildlife guy is tired of being made a fool. When they shot the monkey up in the tree with a tranquilizer, the monkey merely threw down some naughty matter on them and proceeded to take a nap on a branch. Today my Jinny said that the monkey knows how to pull out the tranquilizers. At the end a girl summed up this monkey's tactics by saying, The assailant fled.
He is fast becoming an International Superstar. No kidding, I did just check Facebook and he has 39,393 fans from all over and I made it 39,394. I think Jinny should be very proud that she stood under the palm tree where the monkey was shaking and rattling fronds. She said someone in Driftwood saw it down on a beach, there are many little private beaches in the backyards. When the monkey got out of the pool the other day, he helped himself to a grapefruit before running away. A monkey has to keep up his strength, you know.
One official said the monkey was not outwitting his would-be captors, but avoiding them, claiming monkeys have had millions of years to become strong and fast. You can just guess what I think of THAT! But the monkey has been seen around, even scaling a condominium wall.
Okay, enough monkey business, although I am thinking about going to spend the night with Jinny to see what I can see. Maybe I'll leave him a banana, except they are saying not to feed it, that this monkey could bite and claw a grown man, pulverize him. Even though the monkey is only 21 inches tall and 15 pounds. Jazzi weighs 17 pounds. Wow, this must be a tiny monkey. He looked bigger in his pictures.
I need to go finish squeezing the last of the tangeloes, before they rot on the floor, they are close, here today, gone tomorrow, that's how fast they can bite the dust. Maybe I could leave monkey a tangelo, too.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
I am going Amish. Which means, translating, that I hope I can marshal my wits and get the house cleaned. And KEEP it that way.
However, my antibiotics are making me feel sluggish, which means, translating, indolent.
Wow, I just looked up indolent, just to see. Webster thinks indolent means having or showing a disposition to avoid exertion; slothful. That is not a very polite way to describe me. Webster should be more considerate.
Hey, that reminds me, my nephew is having a life again after snapping his collar bone in two. He said it was worth the wait. When he was a juvenile, he loved sloths. He was completely enamored with sloths and imitated them whenever possible, meaning, of course, 24/7. We all went about nuts. He made weird gruesome faces and repulsive noises and turned his hands into active claws. I hope my sister has this on video -- we will play it at his wedding.
So, of course, I just had to look up sloth, just to see. Webster felt compelled to show a picture of a sloth who is hanging upside down on a branch, it's called a two-toed sloth. I'm surprised my nephew didn't chop off a few of his toes, so he could be more authentic. Well, definition of sloth: 1. indolence; laziness: one of the seven deadly sins. 2. any slow-moving, arboreal tropical American edentate of the family Bradypodidae, having hooklike claws and usu. hanging upside down. (Anyone know how these two definitions both ended up being called sloth? Are sloths slothful? Or did sloth [this word is beginning to look and sound very strange to me] follow sloths?)
Man, I'd better start praying that a sloth doesn't fall on my head when I walk at night. The two-toed sloth is really called, Chloepus hoffmanni, length 2 ft. He looks real hairy, too. I had to turn the dictionary upside down to see the face. I'm not one of these who can watch television sideways from the couch or turn an upside down sloth right side up in my mind. The face is small and kind of looks like a little lamb. Hmmm. Now I'm gonna wanna Google sloth and learn more. Or, I could Google my nephew, he probably has a whole 27 chapters on sloths.
He also had a thing for armadillos. Don't fret, I just looked up armadillos in the dictionary. Armadillos are not like tomatoes, with an "oes" (like toes of course). Isn't that odd, tomato and armadillo? Good luck to everyone learning the English language. It's my native tongue and I still don't get it. Just remember, armadillos is NOT armadilloes like tomatoes. Really, I have no idea how anyone far or near can live without my blog.
I'm still trying to recover from reading that sloth is one of the seven deadly sins. I hope the fact that I'm on strong antibiotics takes me out of the running for that one. And say "indolence" out loud. Go ahead, do it. Isn't that a word you can picture a severe one-room school teacher from the 19th century uttering, "indolence" hissing out of her thin tight lips? With her thin hair pulled in a tight bun, I will not tolerate INDOLENCCCCE in my class room!
Okay, even I am scaring myself tonight. This is a stranger blog post than usual. But I have biscuits on the brain. My friend who gave me the Very Fattening Biscuits recipe wants to know when I'm going to try them. I said, When I get to the store to buy sour cream and when Mike and I finish off the 22 flat biscuits I made 5 days ago. 22 biscuits divided among(st?) two people go a looooong way. Even for flat biscuits. And yours truly gets to eat the most of them, right? In fact, I have two sitting in the toaster oven even as I type. The butter is soft, ready to spread, the jam will be gobbed on shortly.
The reason for this whole blog is that while I was doing my daily vacuum I was thinking, I have nothing to blog about today because I was too slothful to do any living today, I just blobbed the day away. Then I remembered how I am reading an Amish novel, one I started and never finished because, you know, I am full of indolence. But now I am into it again and the Amish ways appeal to me. How do they live like that?? Handed down generation by generation, that's how. I want to read Beverly Lewis' recent new novel about how one Amish wife and mother got fed up with all the work and walked away. Beverly Lewis was not Amish, but her relatives were and she grew up with it all around her. She really fires off these novels one after the next. I enjoy them. They always make me want to go Amish. So maybe I shouldn't read the story about the lady who became disenchanted. Amish women are my last thin thread of hope I have to ever become unslothful. A disclaimer here -- I want to be an Amish woman of moderation and not one who is worked down to two toes.
KEM, who exerts P.S. At dinner tonight I found a worm in my kale.
However, my antibiotics are making me feel sluggish, which means, translating, indolent.
Wow, I just looked up indolent, just to see. Webster thinks indolent means having or showing a disposition to avoid exertion; slothful. That is not a very polite way to describe me. Webster should be more considerate.
Hey, that reminds me, my nephew is having a life again after snapping his collar bone in two. He said it was worth the wait. When he was a juvenile, he loved sloths. He was completely enamored with sloths and imitated them whenever possible, meaning, of course, 24/7. We all went about nuts. He made weird gruesome faces and repulsive noises and turned his hands into active claws. I hope my sister has this on video -- we will play it at his wedding.
So, of course, I just had to look up sloth, just to see. Webster felt compelled to show a picture of a sloth who is hanging upside down on a branch, it's called a two-toed sloth. I'm surprised my nephew didn't chop off a few of his toes, so he could be more authentic. Well, definition of sloth: 1. indolence; laziness: one of the seven deadly sins. 2. any slow-moving, arboreal tropical American edentate of the family Bradypodidae, having hooklike claws and usu. hanging upside down. (Anyone know how these two definitions both ended up being called sloth? Are sloths slothful? Or did sloth [this word is beginning to look and sound very strange to me] follow sloths?)
Man, I'd better start praying that a sloth doesn't fall on my head when I walk at night. The two-toed sloth is really called, Chloepus hoffmanni, length 2 ft. He looks real hairy, too. I had to turn the dictionary upside down to see the face. I'm not one of these who can watch television sideways from the couch or turn an upside down sloth right side up in my mind. The face is small and kind of looks like a little lamb. Hmmm. Now I'm gonna wanna Google sloth and learn more. Or, I could Google my nephew, he probably has a whole 27 chapters on sloths.
He also had a thing for armadillos. Don't fret, I just looked up armadillos in the dictionary. Armadillos are not like tomatoes, with an "oes" (like toes of course). Isn't that odd, tomato and armadillo? Good luck to everyone learning the English language. It's my native tongue and I still don't get it. Just remember, armadillos is NOT armadilloes like tomatoes. Really, I have no idea how anyone far or near can live without my blog.
I'm still trying to recover from reading that sloth is one of the seven deadly sins. I hope the fact that I'm on strong antibiotics takes me out of the running for that one. And say "indolence" out loud. Go ahead, do it. Isn't that a word you can picture a severe one-room school teacher from the 19th century uttering, "indolence" hissing out of her thin tight lips? With her thin hair pulled in a tight bun, I will not tolerate INDOLENCCCCE in my class room!
Okay, even I am scaring myself tonight. This is a stranger blog post than usual. But I have biscuits on the brain. My friend who gave me the Very Fattening Biscuits recipe wants to know when I'm going to try them. I said, When I get to the store to buy sour cream and when Mike and I finish off the 22 flat biscuits I made 5 days ago. 22 biscuits divided among(st?) two people go a looooong way. Even for flat biscuits. And yours truly gets to eat the most of them, right? In fact, I have two sitting in the toaster oven even as I type. The butter is soft, ready to spread, the jam will be gobbed on shortly.
The reason for this whole blog is that while I was doing my daily vacuum I was thinking, I have nothing to blog about today because I was too slothful to do any living today, I just blobbed the day away. Then I remembered how I am reading an Amish novel, one I started and never finished because, you know, I am full of indolence. But now I am into it again and the Amish ways appeal to me. How do they live like that?? Handed down generation by generation, that's how. I want to read Beverly Lewis' recent new novel about how one Amish wife and mother got fed up with all the work and walked away. Beverly Lewis was not Amish, but her relatives were and she grew up with it all around her. She really fires off these novels one after the next. I enjoy them. They always make me want to go Amish. So maybe I shouldn't read the story about the lady who became disenchanted. Amish women are my last thin thread of hope I have to ever become unslothful. A disclaimer here -- I want to be an Amish woman of moderation and not one who is worked down to two toes.
KEM, who exerts P.S. At dinner tonight I found a worm in my kale.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Tonight I had a very scrumptious treat. I was zooming through an old jr high/high school teacher's Facebook friends to see who I might find and I found Gravytrain's youngest sister (not the one who wished I were her sister instead of Gravytrain). I clicked on her to be friends and seconds later . . . we were friends. Then, since she was onFBline, I started an IM conversation. The nice part is that she reciprocated gladly. It was very merry indeed. Her mother was in my parents' wedding, so it's a long ago connection, even though I haven't connected in 3.5 decades. Did they make any sense? I felt like we became instant friends, she's lots of fun.
Well, I think I've mentioned before how this family had the most fabulous names for their dogs, but I couldn't quite remember exactly. Now I have it from the source.
Pee Dee Dinkle Winkle Fink Stink Graves -- Chihuahua. I remember it as Pee Dee Dink Wink Graves. Close. I think that was the abbreviated version.
Baron von Bismark von Snoozer von Schnitzeldorf von Stinkelheim von Stupendorf -- Dachsund. "Busy" for short. I asked, Was he Busy for short because his name was so busy or because he was a busy little dog? No, he was Busy, short for Bismark. Well, the way my brain functions, I would have thought then that it would be Bisy. Nevertheless, I did very poorly trying to recall this name through the years. Von Dusseldorf von . . . von . . . (peter out) was my rendition. Not even in the ballpark.
Stink got in both dogs' names. I think these names need to go down in history. At any rate, Jazzi Jo Mader, which once I thought so uncommon, is sounding pretty sad. But not really, because the Jo part is named after Sweet Tulsa. Her real name has "jo" in it. I asked her permission to name Jazzi after her since they are both from Oklahoma. She, good sport, said, Sure, I'd like that, no one has never named anyone after me before. They should, though, because her first name is Bivrajo, which I'm taken with. But she's not as much. Her aunt is named Bivrajo and she thinks maybe the name came from a book her great aunt was reading at the time. I offer that explanation because no one has ever heard that name before and always is curious to know the origin.
So, what's in a name? PLENTY. Just check with Mr. Von above. Also, Gravytrain's sister told me she had a dog in college who lived 17 years (sister was not in college 17 years, she is a real genius, no kidding, and aced her SAT scores, she probably did college in 2 years and had the dog another 15 years). He was a Doxie named Killer Moribund Graves.
Quick and savory tonight. I just spent 20 minutes cleaning a bunch of kale because I refuse to throw out any more kale or chard due to my watching it do the helpless slow wilt in the fridge. When they say "bunch" of kale, they are not kidding. And like, spinach, the "bunch" shrinks up to a fist full when cooked. If I were a farmer I would be very discouraged, you would have to clear your whole kale patch for one bunch to sell. I mean one individual bunch. It's seemingly a big bunch, until it hits the heat, that is. Not sure why I marvel at these things.
Also made Brunswick Stew, it made so much we will be eating it forevermore, as opposed to the kale, which is a single serving for a hamster. I will give some to DTD and stepson and be a fabulous mother this week. Brunswick Stew, that is, not kale. I would not be a fabulous mother in their eyes if I gave the gift of kale. In reality, I WOULD be a fabulous mother, but they won't comprehendo this until they send their own kids packing with kale. A lady in our church in NC used to give it to me when I was sick, I never knew anything could taste so good. And nothing still tastes as good. But parked in the fridge overnight should work wonders for my rendition.
There is a loose monkey in Jinny's Driftwood neighborhood. She was telling me all about it. Yesterday, while she was waiting for her ride to church, she stood under a palm tree. That is until she heard huge rattles and rustles above. She thinks it was the monkey so she scattled outta there. I don't blame her, I wouldn't want a monkey landing on my head. It's a scary BIG monkey. When I walk my neighborhood at night sometimes I see possums walking along tree branches way up high. There are many trees that arch the roads I walk on (okay, on which I walk). I literally pray to God, PLEASE don't let a possum fall on my head. A monkey on the head would be just that much worse.
So, there are orange rinds all over the neighborhood, too. Well, if I were an escaped monkey, I would live in Driftwood, wouldn't you? It's utterly like a jungle, a Florida jungle. I would search no further for a permanent home. I would set up residence down in a mangrove by the bay, all secret and cozy like. When I was reading the newspaper later, there was a picture of this exact monkey. Fun. It had been touring the neighborhood directly adjacent to Driftwood, Tropical Shores. The monkey came through a screen door into the pool patio and the lady thought it was a big dog. Until it swung on a tree. Then it fell in the pool and had a hard time finding its way out of the screened enclosure. But the lady did get a great picture. The Wildlife people say this monkey has been terrorizing the Tampa Bay area for over a year. It's a very fine looking monkey, but I really don't know what I would say to it other than, How do you do?, if we should ever happen to make an unexpected acquaintance.
So why can't they capture the monkey? It's like Colton the Barefoot Bandit, the teenage burglar who's terrorizing Orcas and surrounding islands where Miss Orcas lives. The authorities cannot catch him, not even with dogs, try though they may. He steals airplanes and everything and leaves taunting messages drawn in chalk. Should we be worrying about Homeland Security?
Today I went to ACE Hardware and bought a baby plunger. Also, I bought two Amaretto Creme Caramels at ACE. I prefer Original Caramels, but Original was sold out. Also, I bought Nothing makes it dazzle like Finazzle. Bathroom GROUT CLEANER NO ODOR. I bought this because the man in front of me at the check-out was buying it. I said, What's that? He said, I don't know, but my contractor said he had to have it and what my contractor says, I obey. He then elaborated that Nothing makes it dazzle like Finazzle is nowhere to be found in St. Petersburg except at THIS ACE. Man, my computer is acting up. Well, my shower floor is made up of little penny-sized round tiles and that was REALLY DUMB of me to choose that, with the help of the tile expert. There is more grout between those circles, think about it. And it turns black and ordinary bleaches and grout and tile cleaners don't touch it. Only my fingernail touches it, as in successfully. So, my ears perked up and I ran and got a bottle of this stuff. There are only 2.5 inches of cleaner in the bottom of the bottle and then you add water, lots of water. It's expensive, too. REALLY expensive, over $11.00 expensive. So, stay tuned, it had BETTER beat the black. I can't believe I just paid over $11.00 for two inches of cleaner. Tell me I didn't just do that.
Okay, have a nice day everyone!
Mike is screaming for a towel.
Baroness von KEM
Well, I think I've mentioned before how this family had the most fabulous names for their dogs, but I couldn't quite remember exactly. Now I have it from the source.
Pee Dee Dinkle Winkle Fink Stink Graves -- Chihuahua. I remember it as Pee Dee Dink Wink Graves. Close. I think that was the abbreviated version.
Baron von Bismark von Snoozer von Schnitzeldorf von Stinkelheim von Stupendorf -- Dachsund. "Busy" for short. I asked, Was he Busy for short because his name was so busy or because he was a busy little dog? No, he was Busy, short for Bismark. Well, the way my brain functions, I would have thought then that it would be Bisy. Nevertheless, I did very poorly trying to recall this name through the years. Von Dusseldorf von . . . von . . . (peter out) was my rendition. Not even in the ballpark.
Stink got in both dogs' names. I think these names need to go down in history. At any rate, Jazzi Jo Mader, which once I thought so uncommon, is sounding pretty sad. But not really, because the Jo part is named after Sweet Tulsa. Her real name has "jo" in it. I asked her permission to name Jazzi after her since they are both from Oklahoma. She, good sport, said, Sure, I'd like that, no one has never named anyone after me before. They should, though, because her first name is Bivrajo, which I'm taken with. But she's not as much. Her aunt is named Bivrajo and she thinks maybe the name came from a book her great aunt was reading at the time. I offer that explanation because no one has ever heard that name before and always is curious to know the origin.
So, what's in a name? PLENTY. Just check with Mr. Von above. Also, Gravytrain's sister told me she had a dog in college who lived 17 years (sister was not in college 17 years, she is a real genius, no kidding, and aced her SAT scores, she probably did college in 2 years and had the dog another 15 years). He was a Doxie named Killer Moribund Graves.
Quick and savory tonight. I just spent 20 minutes cleaning a bunch of kale because I refuse to throw out any more kale or chard due to my watching it do the helpless slow wilt in the fridge. When they say "bunch" of kale, they are not kidding. And like, spinach, the "bunch" shrinks up to a fist full when cooked. If I were a farmer I would be very discouraged, you would have to clear your whole kale patch for one bunch to sell. I mean one individual bunch. It's seemingly a big bunch, until it hits the heat, that is. Not sure why I marvel at these things.
Also made Brunswick Stew, it made so much we will be eating it forevermore, as opposed to the kale, which is a single serving for a hamster. I will give some to DTD and stepson and be a fabulous mother this week. Brunswick Stew, that is, not kale. I would not be a fabulous mother in their eyes if I gave the gift of kale. In reality, I WOULD be a fabulous mother, but they won't comprehendo this until they send their own kids packing with kale. A lady in our church in NC used to give it to me when I was sick, I never knew anything could taste so good. And nothing still tastes as good. But parked in the fridge overnight should work wonders for my rendition.
There is a loose monkey in Jinny's Driftwood neighborhood. She was telling me all about it. Yesterday, while she was waiting for her ride to church, she stood under a palm tree. That is until she heard huge rattles and rustles above. She thinks it was the monkey so she scattled outta there. I don't blame her, I wouldn't want a monkey landing on my head. It's a scary BIG monkey. When I walk my neighborhood at night sometimes I see possums walking along tree branches way up high. There are many trees that arch the roads I walk on (okay, on which I walk). I literally pray to God, PLEASE don't let a possum fall on my head. A monkey on the head would be just that much worse.
So, there are orange rinds all over the neighborhood, too. Well, if I were an escaped monkey, I would live in Driftwood, wouldn't you? It's utterly like a jungle, a Florida jungle. I would search no further for a permanent home. I would set up residence down in a mangrove by the bay, all secret and cozy like. When I was reading the newspaper later, there was a picture of this exact monkey. Fun. It had been touring the neighborhood directly adjacent to Driftwood, Tropical Shores. The monkey came through a screen door into the pool patio and the lady thought it was a big dog. Until it swung on a tree. Then it fell in the pool and had a hard time finding its way out of the screened enclosure. But the lady did get a great picture. The Wildlife people say this monkey has been terrorizing the Tampa Bay area for over a year. It's a very fine looking monkey, but I really don't know what I would say to it other than, How do you do?, if we should ever happen to make an unexpected acquaintance.
So why can't they capture the monkey? It's like Colton the Barefoot Bandit, the teenage burglar who's terrorizing Orcas and surrounding islands where Miss Orcas lives. The authorities cannot catch him, not even with dogs, try though they may. He steals airplanes and everything and leaves taunting messages drawn in chalk. Should we be worrying about Homeland Security?
Today I went to ACE Hardware and bought a baby plunger. Also, I bought two Amaretto Creme Caramels at ACE. I prefer Original Caramels, but Original was sold out. Also, I bought Nothing makes it dazzle like Finazzle. Bathroom GROUT CLEANER NO ODOR. I bought this because the man in front of me at the check-out was buying it. I said, What's that? He said, I don't know, but my contractor said he had to have it and what my contractor says, I obey. He then elaborated that Nothing makes it dazzle like Finazzle is nowhere to be found in St. Petersburg except at THIS ACE. Man, my computer is acting up. Well, my shower floor is made up of little penny-sized round tiles and that was REALLY DUMB of me to choose that, with the help of the tile expert. There is more grout between those circles, think about it. And it turns black and ordinary bleaches and grout and tile cleaners don't touch it. Only my fingernail touches it, as in successfully. So, my ears perked up and I ran and got a bottle of this stuff. There are only 2.5 inches of cleaner in the bottom of the bottle and then you add water, lots of water. It's expensive, too. REALLY expensive, over $11.00 expensive. So, stay tuned, it had BETTER beat the black. I can't believe I just paid over $11.00 for two inches of cleaner. Tell me I didn't just do that.
Okay, have a nice day everyone!
Mike is screaming for a towel.
Baroness von KEM
Sunday, March 21, 2010
In the middle of the night I was up tossing olives. My salad at Mr. Pizza was swimming with no less than 40 chopped green olives and I enjoyed them all with gusto. I love green olives but they don't love me.
This afternoon I Googled: Why does buttermilk batter turn a funny color? My leftover biscuit dough from two days ago was a shady color. This happens, you know, with buttermilk pancake batter, too. Leave it in the fridge overnight and the next morning you find yourself staring at a bowl of material that is a purplish gray color, kind of like dirt. Not real appetizing. There must be some kind of chemical reaction that creates the color; surely the batter isn't spoiled overnight? I hope not, 'cause I'll be up in the night again if that batter was bad.
Well, there was no real answer to my Google question (shocking!). Google just listed recipes that use buttermilk. The third one down said, Truck Stop Pancakes. That sounded interesting. When I clicked on the recipe, it got the hands down raves. People were saying things like, Pancakes melt in your mouth, tender, so tasty don't even need syrup, eat 'em right out of the pan, taste like diner pancakes, taste like IHOP pancakes, family that hated pancakes now pounds fisted forks on table demanding . . . Pancakes!, searched the world for 12 years for perfect pancake recipe, search no further, this is IT!, etc.
Don't think for a minute all these assessments didn't get my attention. I can't wait to try it. Remember, I'm a Pancake House Connoisseur. Everyone who reviewed gave the recipe the max 5 stars. This left me wondering where this will leave PW'S Perfect Pancakes recipe.
Well, I kept fooling around, Googling this and that, you know, tweaking my search for grey batter. What turns up? Oh, my life is just so interesting. Only a recipe for PW'S Buttermilk Biscuits, that's all. It was posted by some other lady who has a cooking blog and is friends with PW. And it wasn't, Pop open a can of refrigerated biscuits. It was a real-from-scratch-buttermilk-biscuit-honest-to-goodness recipe. So, this bothered me and I went to PW'S website and still could not find any biscuit other than the canned one smothered in sausage gravy.
So, as it turns out, upon further delving, that this Fluffy and High Biscuit recipe is from PW'S cookbook that just came out. I guess you can hardly suggest canned B's in a cookbook. Sales might fall flat. But I am SURE PW'S sales are just as fluffy/high as her B's, which were pictured in all their highness and fluffiness.
There you have it, I have a new biscuit recipe to try. In fact, I have three recipes to try. That's 'cause Sweet Tulsa is going to send me her mother's B recipe and her mother grew up on a farm and that's all I need to know. AND furthermore, Sweet Tulsa's mother made a chocolate GRAVY to pour over the biscuits. WOWSERS! She described it as a thin chocolate pudding. See how one thing leads to another? I'm so happy to get a recipe for such a marvelous sounding concoction.
Then another friend sent me a B recipe called Very Fattening Biscuit Recipe. It uses one cup of sour cream and 2 sticks of butter (all for the sake of two little cups of flour). The footnote to this recipe is the lady who gave my friend the recipe is up in her 90's. Oh, and you don't have to roll and cut the dough, just spoon it into muffin cups. Likin' it. I'm most interested to try my friends' recipes first.
Okay, I can't think any longer. I'm not so sure it's such a great idea to go on a B kick. I used my purple gray B dough, finished it up tonight, 'cause I worked too hard to ditch it. That recipe used 5 cups of flour. It was supposed to yield 5 dozen B's, but I only got 22 B's. My recipe had yeast in it, too, which made the fridge smell really good. It's from an old cookbook called Southern Sideboards, by Junior League of Jackson, Mississippi. Well, it's from 1978. I love those type cookbooks. This recipe was called Bride's Biscuits. 'Cause it makes so much dough and you can roll all the B's out ahead of time and freeze most of them on cookie sheets. You place the tray of B's in the oven the night before to thaw. Then when your new husband comes down to breakfast, you look like a genius because you are pulling hot piping B's from the oven every morning, Snap, Snap, nothing to it, the B's bake while you fry bacon. And he goes even more Ga-Ga over you and you live happily (and fattily) ever after.
Okay, I'm eating Flat Humble B's because yesterday I couldn't believe PW didn't have a B recipe, when, in truth, she has one in her new book. But that was tricky, how was I supposed to know? I went two weeks ago to get that cookbook and they didn't have it yet. Anyway, PW is taking over the World, just you watch.
I can't believe I can discuss all these sinfully rich B's after the green olive episode. I'd rather toss B's, in the air, like pizza dough. Wonder if anyone ever uses buttermilk in pizza dough?
Biskuity KEM, and chocolate gravy, too
This afternoon I Googled: Why does buttermilk batter turn a funny color? My leftover biscuit dough from two days ago was a shady color. This happens, you know, with buttermilk pancake batter, too. Leave it in the fridge overnight and the next morning you find yourself staring at a bowl of material that is a purplish gray color, kind of like dirt. Not real appetizing. There must be some kind of chemical reaction that creates the color; surely the batter isn't spoiled overnight? I hope not, 'cause I'll be up in the night again if that batter was bad.
Well, there was no real answer to my Google question (shocking!). Google just listed recipes that use buttermilk. The third one down said, Truck Stop Pancakes. That sounded interesting. When I clicked on the recipe, it got the hands down raves. People were saying things like, Pancakes melt in your mouth, tender, so tasty don't even need syrup, eat 'em right out of the pan, taste like diner pancakes, taste like IHOP pancakes, family that hated pancakes now pounds fisted forks on table demanding . . . Pancakes!, searched the world for 12 years for perfect pancake recipe, search no further, this is IT!, etc.
Don't think for a minute all these assessments didn't get my attention. I can't wait to try it. Remember, I'm a Pancake House Connoisseur. Everyone who reviewed gave the recipe the max 5 stars. This left me wondering where this will leave PW'S Perfect Pancakes recipe.
Well, I kept fooling around, Googling this and that, you know, tweaking my search for grey batter. What turns up? Oh, my life is just so interesting. Only a recipe for PW'S Buttermilk Biscuits, that's all. It was posted by some other lady who has a cooking blog and is friends with PW. And it wasn't, Pop open a can of refrigerated biscuits. It was a real-from-scratch-buttermilk-biscuit-honest-to-goodness recipe. So, this bothered me and I went to PW'S website and still could not find any biscuit other than the canned one smothered in sausage gravy.
So, as it turns out, upon further delving, that this Fluffy and High Biscuit recipe is from PW'S cookbook that just came out. I guess you can hardly suggest canned B's in a cookbook. Sales might fall flat. But I am SURE PW'S sales are just as fluffy/high as her B's, which were pictured in all their highness and fluffiness.
There you have it, I have a new biscuit recipe to try. In fact, I have three recipes to try. That's 'cause Sweet Tulsa is going to send me her mother's B recipe and her mother grew up on a farm and that's all I need to know. AND furthermore, Sweet Tulsa's mother made a chocolate GRAVY to pour over the biscuits. WOWSERS! She described it as a thin chocolate pudding. See how one thing leads to another? I'm so happy to get a recipe for such a marvelous sounding concoction.
Then another friend sent me a B recipe called Very Fattening Biscuit Recipe. It uses one cup of sour cream and 2 sticks of butter (all for the sake of two little cups of flour). The footnote to this recipe is the lady who gave my friend the recipe is up in her 90's. Oh, and you don't have to roll and cut the dough, just spoon it into muffin cups. Likin' it. I'm most interested to try my friends' recipes first.
Okay, I can't think any longer. I'm not so sure it's such a great idea to go on a B kick. I used my purple gray B dough, finished it up tonight, 'cause I worked too hard to ditch it. That recipe used 5 cups of flour. It was supposed to yield 5 dozen B's, but I only got 22 B's. My recipe had yeast in it, too, which made the fridge smell really good. It's from an old cookbook called Southern Sideboards, by Junior League of Jackson, Mississippi. Well, it's from 1978. I love those type cookbooks. This recipe was called Bride's Biscuits. 'Cause it makes so much dough and you can roll all the B's out ahead of time and freeze most of them on cookie sheets. You place the tray of B's in the oven the night before to thaw. Then when your new husband comes down to breakfast, you look like a genius because you are pulling hot piping B's from the oven every morning, Snap, Snap, nothing to it, the B's bake while you fry bacon. And he goes even more Ga-Ga over you and you live happily (and fattily) ever after.
Okay, I'm eating Flat Humble B's because yesterday I couldn't believe PW didn't have a B recipe, when, in truth, she has one in her new book. But that was tricky, how was I supposed to know? I went two weeks ago to get that cookbook and they didn't have it yet. Anyway, PW is taking over the World, just you watch.
I can't believe I can discuss all these sinfully rich B's after the green olive episode. I'd rather toss B's, in the air, like pizza dough. Wonder if anyone ever uses buttermilk in pizza dough?
Biskuity KEM, and chocolate gravy, too
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