Most of the time I have something to write about when I come over here.Today I have nothing to write about. So I decided to try free associating and see if I come up with anything amusing. If not I'll stop soon before you fall asleep on your keyboard.
So, let's see. We ate the last of our corn last night with some yummy New York Strip Steaks that I managed not to burn, which we ate while watching Kathy Griffin's "D-List" DVR'd from Tuesday. We also finished the last of the peach pie last night, and tonight we finished off the last of the peaches for one more blender-full of Peach Whizzing. So I am now cornless and peachless. Unless Kim comes over, which would be fine since I do have plenty of Vodka.
This morning I went to Menards with Suzie to buy carpet for the nursery at church. We were going to go to several stores, but if I start at Menards I usually find what I want and don't have to keep searching. And sure enough we found what we wanted -- and not a boring brown or grey berber, but something stripey. And kind of pretty. And best of all it was half the price of the boring brown and grey berbers. So Matthew will pick it up tomorrow and install it next week and then hopefully the nursery will be done.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Oh sorry. After we got the carpet Suzie and I were abducted by aliens in the Menard's parking lot, but they were friendly and did not probe us and ended up serving us a delicious lunch onboard their ship and then they let us go. Is that better?
Yeah okay, so this free associating experiment didn't go so well. I'll try to better next time. In the meantime, enjoy the music.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Territorial Integrity
That's the name of my new rock band, and our first album title is: Giving More Love to Myself. We'll be on the road soon. Check us out. See my friend Kim's blog for a complete explanation.
Anyway -- we ate the last of our fresh, Illinois corn-on-the-cob tonight. I can't believe it's all gone! And we each only ate 1 ear tonight. Last night Bob ate 2 and I ate 1. Prior to that we each ate 2 apiece. Yeah, we had a lot of corn. But we still have a few peaches left, enough to either make another small pie, or another batch or two of Peach Whiz's. Whizzes? Whiz'? Yeah, it's an alcoholic drink made with peaches that my parents used to make using peaches from our wonderful old peach tree.
Two things that are funny about that (besides my inability to figure out how to spell Peach Whiz in the plural -- or is it Wiz -- Mom?).
1. My parents were tee-totalers most of their lives. Mom was a good Baptist, and Dad, well he drank when he was younger and for sure when he was in the Navy even though he was underage. But then he met Mom and dried up. Sort of. I seem to recall him having a beer now and then. But not Mom. She never let liquor touch her lips lest she seal her fate (aka eternity in Hell). Anyway, sometime after they switched from Baptist to Presbyterian they realized they would not burn in hell if they drank occasionally... maybe sometime in their 40's? And so because we had all these peaches and one can only eat so much pie, peaches and ice cream, etc. Dad figured out how to blend them with ice, vodka, and frozen lemonade concentrate to make a delicious frozen blended peachy drink.
2. The other funny thing is Bob called Mom yesterday to ask her for the recipe, and bless her heart, she can't remember something I told her last week (though frankly, who am I to judge since I spent most of today, which is Wed., thinking it was Thursday, but I digress) but I'll be damned if she didn't remember the recipe for Peach Whiz/Wiz/Whatever with no hesitation. She told Bob, matter-of-factly, with no hesitation:
1 small can frozen lemonade
3 oz Vodka
2 or 3 sliced peaches, skin on
Blend in blender, then fill with ice, blend some more
Of course we added double the amount of Vodka since, after all, this was the recipe of a former tea-totaler. And YUMMMMMMMMMMM! So now we have to figure out tomorrow what to do with the remaining peaches: Drink 'em or eat 'em?
Talk amongst yourselves while I call Monica to see if she can score some more peaches for us at the Saturday Farmer's Market ...
Anyway -- we ate the last of our fresh, Illinois corn-on-the-cob tonight. I can't believe it's all gone! And we each only ate 1 ear tonight. Last night Bob ate 2 and I ate 1. Prior to that we each ate 2 apiece. Yeah, we had a lot of corn. But we still have a few peaches left, enough to either make another small pie, or another batch or two of Peach Whiz's. Whizzes? Whiz'? Yeah, it's an alcoholic drink made with peaches that my parents used to make using peaches from our wonderful old peach tree.
Two things that are funny about that (besides my inability to figure out how to spell Peach Whiz in the plural -- or is it Wiz -- Mom?).
1. My parents were tee-totalers most of their lives. Mom was a good Baptist, and Dad, well he drank when he was younger and for sure when he was in the Navy even though he was underage. But then he met Mom and dried up. Sort of. I seem to recall him having a beer now and then. But not Mom. She never let liquor touch her lips lest she seal her fate (aka eternity in Hell). Anyway, sometime after they switched from Baptist to Presbyterian they realized they would not burn in hell if they drank occasionally... maybe sometime in their 40's? And so because we had all these peaches and one can only eat so much pie, peaches and ice cream, etc. Dad figured out how to blend them with ice, vodka, and frozen lemonade concentrate to make a delicious frozen blended peachy drink.
2. The other funny thing is Bob called Mom yesterday to ask her for the recipe, and bless her heart, she can't remember something I told her last week (though frankly, who am I to judge since I spent most of today, which is Wed., thinking it was Thursday, but I digress) but I'll be damned if she didn't remember the recipe for Peach Whiz/Wiz/Whatever with no hesitation. She told Bob, matter-of-factly, with no hesitation:
1 small can frozen lemonade
3 oz Vodka
2 or 3 sliced peaches, skin on
Blend in blender, then fill with ice, blend some more
Of course we added double the amount of Vodka since, after all, this was the recipe of a former tea-totaler. And YUMMMMMMMMMMM! So now we have to figure out tomorrow what to do with the remaining peaches: Drink 'em or eat 'em?
Talk amongst yourselves while I call Monica to see if she can score some more peaches for us at the Saturday Farmer's Market ...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Presbyterians
I get to spend the day with them again, today. I'm not sure I'm quite yet over the PTSD of spending 8 days with them in Minneapolis earlier this month, but I have to go to Presbytery to report with the other commissioners on General Assembly. We each get 3 minutes to talk about what happened in the committees we served on. I wish I could yield my 3 minutes to the guy from the Marriage/Civil Union committee, since my committee was so boring and he should get more than 3 minutes to report on that debacle. But since this isn't congress (it just runs like congress) I am pretty sure they won't let me.
So I'm going to leave in about an hour and head to Washington, IL for the meeting, which starts in half an hour. Did I mention I'd be going late to the meeting? They are doing some workshop thing at 10am and I have to go into the office for a bit before heading out, so I'm going to miss the workshop things and get there in time for lunch. We are the last item of business on the agenda so it should be fine.
About the pie -- IT WAS FABULOUS! It looked good and tasted even better, and I still can't quite believe I made one. Granted it was a simple recipe, and I used those Pillsbury already made crusts instead of making one from scratch (since I have no idea how to do that and am not sure where my rolling pin even is). But I did slice the peaches myself, and add an easy flour/sugar/butter crumbly mixture in between the layers of peaches.
Since it did turn out so well (and was so darn easy), I shall now share the recipe with you. Caroline, after you stop weeping over what blasphemy the recipe is, I hope it helps you to know that it was REALLY good!
Place one crust in the bottom of a 9 inch pie plate. Line the shell with some sliced peaches. Sprinkle some of the butter mixture on top of the peaches, then put more peaches on top of the the crumb mixture. Continue layering until both the peaches and crumbs are gone.
Top with lattice strips of pie crust.
Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 45 minutes, or until crust is golden. Allow pie to cool before slicing. Best when eaten warm with some vanilla ice cream.
You're welcome!
Monday, July 26, 2010
I made a peach pie!
So you know from my previous post that I have a plethora of peaches right now. I've eaten some, and Saturday I made this easy crumble dessert thing that wasn't bad. But today, since it's my day off and I had some time, I decided to make a peach pie. My first!
Okay, so yes, I'm about to turn 50, but I have never made a peach pie. And yes, I grew up with a peach tree in my backyard, but never made a peach pie. I've never been much of a baker -- I'm more of a cooker. But I have a jillion peaches that I don't want to rot, and I refuse to "can" them (why do they call it canning when they go into jars, not cans -- shouldn't it be called jarring?) so I decided to try a pie.
Since my go-to baking expert is out of town I googled "easy peach pie recipes" and found one I thought I could manage for my maiden peach pie voyage. Instead of the usual pie-top, I thought I'd try the lattice thing. Which I did. Evidently there is more weaving involved in putting on a lattice-top than I could figure out (or care to do) so it doesn't look like something Martha would feature on her magazine cover, but I bet it'll taste just as good. I'll let you know in my next entry.
Here it is:
Okay, so yes, I'm about to turn 50, but I have never made a peach pie. And yes, I grew up with a peach tree in my backyard, but never made a peach pie. I've never been much of a baker -- I'm more of a cooker. But I have a jillion peaches that I don't want to rot, and I refuse to "can" them (why do they call it canning when they go into jars, not cans -- shouldn't it be called jarring?) so I decided to try a pie.
Since my go-to baking expert is out of town I googled "easy peach pie recipes" and found one I thought I could manage for my maiden peach pie voyage. Instead of the usual pie-top, I thought I'd try the lattice thing. Which I did. Evidently there is more weaving involved in putting on a lattice-top than I could figure out (or care to do) so it doesn't look like something Martha would feature on her magazine cover, but I bet it'll taste just as good. I'll let you know in my next entry.
Here it is:
 |
| My first peach pie effort! |
 |
| Bob wants to eat it. NOW! |
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Peaches and Corn
That's what we'll be eating for dinner tonight, and maybe tomorrow, thanks to Monica, who just dropped some off from the Farmer's Market! Bless her, she knows I'm too lazy to go there myself early on a Saturday morning. Especially such an already hot/humid Saturday morning. So she bought them for us and dropped them off.
Growing up we had a peach tree in our backyard, and every summer some of the branches would literally break with the weight of the enormous, juicy peaches she would gift to us. We'd go out back, grab a peach, maybe wash it off, maybe not, and bite into it, peach juice dribbling down our chins and onto our clothes. Fruit of the gods. In fact, I decided if there was a Garden, and if Eve and Adam were tempted to eat a forbidden peach, it was definitely a peach and not an apple.
We'd eat them until we were bursting. They were one of my favorite parts of summer, and an easy childhood memory that jumps to the forefront of my mind every time I smell a peach. I cried when I was older and the tree had given us all she could and had to be taken down. We replaced her with a new one, but she gave up the ghost much too soon, after producing a few small offerings. I guess the shadow under which she was planted was too big to fill. Still, to this day, a peach is not a real peach unless you bite into it, and end up with more of it on your face and clothes than in your stomach.
As for the corn, I fell in love with sweet corn when we moved to Iowa 20+ years ago. I'd had sweet corn before, but not REAL sweet corn. And Iowa has some pretty spectacular sweet corn. So did New Jersey, now that I think of it. Not a California thing tho (but they can lay claim to the best avocados that's for sure). Anyway, Illinois sweet corn is pretty darn good too, and now I have a whole bag of it. Which will join some of the peaches for dinner tonight. With a nice glass of Cabernet.
I can't wait!
Growing up we had a peach tree in our backyard, and every summer some of the branches would literally break with the weight of the enormous, juicy peaches she would gift to us. We'd go out back, grab a peach, maybe wash it off, maybe not, and bite into it, peach juice dribbling down our chins and onto our clothes. Fruit of the gods. In fact, I decided if there was a Garden, and if Eve and Adam were tempted to eat a forbidden peach, it was definitely a peach and not an apple.
We'd eat them until we were bursting. They were one of my favorite parts of summer, and an easy childhood memory that jumps to the forefront of my mind every time I smell a peach. I cried when I was older and the tree had given us all she could and had to be taken down. We replaced her with a new one, but she gave up the ghost much too soon, after producing a few small offerings. I guess the shadow under which she was planted was too big to fill. Still, to this day, a peach is not a real peach unless you bite into it, and end up with more of it on your face and clothes than in your stomach.
As for the corn, I fell in love with sweet corn when we moved to Iowa 20+ years ago. I'd had sweet corn before, but not REAL sweet corn. And Iowa has some pretty spectacular sweet corn. So did New Jersey, now that I think of it. Not a California thing tho (but they can lay claim to the best avocados that's for sure). Anyway, Illinois sweet corn is pretty darn good too, and now I have a whole bag of it. Which will join some of the peaches for dinner tonight. With a nice glass of Cabernet.
I can't wait!
Friday, July 23, 2010
Speaking of my sister ...
I want her to marry Michael Bublé. He's cute, he's a great singer (he's the one singing to you as you read this), and he's probably rich. And then she could be Betsy Bublé, which really has a nice ring to it. The only problem is that he's only 34 (she's "in her 50's") and I believe he's also engaged to some gorgeous blonde Italian woman. But other than that, I think they would be perfect together. Unless he's really short -- does anyone know how tall he is? She's not a giant or anything -- she's a respectable 5'7" or so. Oh who cares if he's short. He's cute, he sings, and did I mention he's Canadian? Betsy loves Canada! See, a perfect match. So if anyone knows Michael Bublé, or someone who knows someone who knows Michael Bublé (six degrees of separation) let me know, and maybe we can make this work.
Her birthday is August 1, so please let me know right away, as I'd like to make this happen as my birthday present to her.
If Michael Bublé does not turn out to be an option, perhaps I can fix her up with my friend Kim's brother, who is also cute. I don't know if he is a great singer, nor am I aware of his bank account. But I do know he's not 34 -- he's a much more mature 39. And he's single. I met him once, at a birthday party for Kim, and as I recall, he is not short. So now all we need to do is distract Kim's mother between now and August 1 and see if he's interested in a fun, beautiful, goddess-loving, adventurous, funny, 50-something woman who lives across the street from the Pacific Ocean in Laguna Beach.
Then Kim and I could be sisters-in-law, and when she gets the job as the Cubs Manager, we can sit in the family box at the games and shout obscenities in Spanish.
Wow, I think I'm really on to something here.
Her birthday is August 1, so please let me know right away, as I'd like to make this happen as my birthday present to her.
If Michael Bublé does not turn out to be an option, perhaps I can fix her up with my friend Kim's brother, who is also cute. I don't know if he is a great singer, nor am I aware of his bank account. But I do know he's not 34 -- he's a much more mature 39. And he's single. I met him once, at a birthday party for Kim, and as I recall, he is not short. So now all we need to do is distract Kim's mother between now and August 1 and see if he's interested in a fun, beautiful, goddess-loving, adventurous, funny, 50-something woman who lives across the street from the Pacific Ocean in Laguna Beach.
Then Kim and I could be sisters-in-law, and when she gets the job as the Cubs Manager, we can sit in the family box at the games and shout obscenities in Spanish.
Wow, I think I'm really on to something here.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
I can't remember what I wanted to write here
GAH! On my way home from the gym I had an idea about something to blog about this morning, complete with photos and links and everything. But now, after making coffee, eating an egg on toast, and watering my poor hanging flower pots, I have no recollection of what it was. And I know it was gonna be really funny (and well written)! Getting old sucks.
Speaking of getting old, I'll be 50 in (counting on fingers/toes) ...... 21 days (if you count today and count the 11th -- I'm never sure whether to count those days or not). If you don't count today and the 11th, I'll be 50 in 19 days. I am not looking forward to it, even though "they" say 50 is the new 30. I think they said 40 was the new 30 when I turned 40. What's 60 going to be? The new 21? Anyway, I was excited about turning 30 (20 years ago -- GASP) and even was looking forward to turning 40 (I liked saying "I'm in my forties). But 50? I can't think of anything to get excited about 50. Hell I can't even start getting the senior discount at 50 (though I think I may get invited to join AARP).
I AM looking forward to my sister Betsy coming to visit. We haven't seen her in the flesh (we sometimes see her on SKYPE) since May 2008 when we river rafted in Utah. And she hasn't been out here since May 2003. So it'll be fun to have her here for my birthday so she can meet some of my peeps, experience the big damn deck she's heard so much about, and admire Bob's new gardens.
We are getting pedicures together one day -- not sure what else we might do. We were invited by some of my peeps to listen to Zydeco music outdoors at a winery in Champaign one night, which we might do, though I am a bit hesitant because A) Illinois wines suck ass and B) Sitting outside listening to Zydeco music sounds wonderful but not if it's 100 degrees outside. So we'll see about that one.
Other options include pontoonery with some of my peeps, weather permitting. And she is most looking forward to sitting out on the big damn deck drinking wine (California wine, of course, and maybe some Tequilla shots? Someone should get me some Patron for my birthday .... ) talking and laughing with me and Bob. The three of us, when we get together, do a LOT of laughing. We are very funny people, if I do say so myself. We almost fell out of the raft laughing on our river trip a couple of years ago (good thing there was no white water). Here is a pic of Betsy and Bob from aforementioned river trip. Notice the lack of white water in the picture. And yes, that is a river, not a lake.
Speaking of getting old, I'll be 50 in (counting on fingers/toes) ...... 21 days (if you count today and count the 11th -- I'm never sure whether to count those days or not). If you don't count today and the 11th, I'll be 50 in 19 days. I am not looking forward to it, even though "they" say 50 is the new 30. I think they said 40 was the new 30 when I turned 40. What's 60 going to be? The new 21? Anyway, I was excited about turning 30 (20 years ago -- GASP) and even was looking forward to turning 40 (I liked saying "I'm in my forties). But 50? I can't think of anything to get excited about 50. Hell I can't even start getting the senior discount at 50 (though I think I may get invited to join AARP).
I AM looking forward to my sister Betsy coming to visit. We haven't seen her in the flesh (we sometimes see her on SKYPE) since May 2008 when we river rafted in Utah. And she hasn't been out here since May 2003. So it'll be fun to have her here for my birthday so she can meet some of my peeps, experience the big damn deck she's heard so much about, and admire Bob's new gardens.
We are getting pedicures together one day -- not sure what else we might do. We were invited by some of my peeps to listen to Zydeco music outdoors at a winery in Champaign one night, which we might do, though I am a bit hesitant because A) Illinois wines suck ass and B) Sitting outside listening to Zydeco music sounds wonderful but not if it's 100 degrees outside. So we'll see about that one.
Other options include pontoonery with some of my peeps, weather permitting. And she is most looking forward to sitting out on the big damn deck drinking wine (California wine, of course, and maybe some Tequilla shots? Someone should get me some Patron for my birthday .... ) talking and laughing with me and Bob. The three of us, when we get together, do a LOT of laughing. We are very funny people, if I do say so myself. We almost fell out of the raft laughing on our river trip a couple of years ago (good thing there was no white water). Here is a pic of Betsy and Bob from aforementioned river trip. Notice the lack of white water in the picture. And yes, that is a river, not a lake.
I'd post a picture of the two of us on the raft, but it's not flattering to me and it's my blog so, well, it ain't gonna happen. But perhaps you'll enjoy this one of my feet. Or maybe those are Betsy's feet? We are sisters, so our feet are similar. And we both wore Tevas.
Sissy, Caroline and Beauregard can't WAIT to see you!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)