I was watching a documentary on a woman's image in advertizing, called Killing Me Softly.
Tag came over and enthusiastically exclaimed that "women are not all about beauty! Beauty isn't everything."
At this point I said "that's right!" and I was reaching out to hug him with feminist joy when he continued:
"Like Sonic says, it's all about speed!"
I laughed so hard at this point, even as he concluded:
"It's not about beauty or speed, it's about fun!"
Ah, my son. My eight year old son. How simple life was back then.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
chicken soup in a jar
Link to my first dinner in a jar.
Which wasn't in a jar. I was just trying it out before I committed any jars to it.
Which wasn't in a jar. I was just trying it out before I committed any jars to it.
The price of cooking from scratch
Going out to eat is expensive, and that's all there is to it. We never go out expecting to save money over cooking at home, so that's not what this is about.
When cooking at home, there are different levels of economy to which one may aspire, with of course a cost/benefit analysis that one must consider when purchasing quality ingredients. How much is organic worth? How much does it really save me to buy dry beans when I have to spend many hours of energy and water preparing them, as opposed to cans of beans that cost more but are both still quite cheap and much easier to cook with?
When it comes down to it, the difference between a can of organic beans vs a sack of dried beans is quite huge, but I find myself wedged in a world of penny pinching.
I just bought this book:
Dinner is in the jar.
It's a great little book and I find myself interested in a good percentage of the recipes. I sat and did some math and found that one of the meals, I believe it was chili, would cost a little over $12 to assemble the whole jar of food (dried mushrooms, dried bell peppers, tvp, etc). The jar makes roughly 15 cups of food, a quantity that would feed my family twice with one or two lunches left over. I found myself crunching numbers of fresh vs frozen vs dehydrated vs freeze dried peppers and cans of dried mushrooms vs those little cans of stewed mushrooms and I realized that I'm taking this whole thing way too seriously.
It's food storage! Does it have to give me maximum food savings in order to be worth the time and effort? Does it have to yield absolute efficiency with zero waste in the form of long-term yummy insurance in order to give me some peace of mind?
So, with the exception of a couple of rewrites (like tiny cans of tomato paste instead of tomato powder, because, what the heck?? tomato powder??) I'm going for it.
After Tag gets baptized this Saturday. :D
When cooking at home, there are different levels of economy to which one may aspire, with of course a cost/benefit analysis that one must consider when purchasing quality ingredients. How much is organic worth? How much does it really save me to buy dry beans when I have to spend many hours of energy and water preparing them, as opposed to cans of beans that cost more but are both still quite cheap and much easier to cook with?
When it comes down to it, the difference between a can of organic beans vs a sack of dried beans is quite huge, but I find myself wedged in a world of penny pinching.
I just bought this book:
Dinner is in the jar.
It's a great little book and I find myself interested in a good percentage of the recipes. I sat and did some math and found that one of the meals, I believe it was chili, would cost a little over $12 to assemble the whole jar of food (dried mushrooms, dried bell peppers, tvp, etc). The jar makes roughly 15 cups of food, a quantity that would feed my family twice with one or two lunches left over. I found myself crunching numbers of fresh vs frozen vs dehydrated vs freeze dried peppers and cans of dried mushrooms vs those little cans of stewed mushrooms and I realized that I'm taking this whole thing way too seriously.
It's food storage! Does it have to give me maximum food savings in order to be worth the time and effort? Does it have to yield absolute efficiency with zero waste in the form of long-term yummy insurance in order to give me some peace of mind?
So, with the exception of a couple of rewrites (like tiny cans of tomato paste instead of tomato powder, because, what the heck?? tomato powder??) I'm going for it.
After Tag gets baptized this Saturday. :D
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
pictures
Warning, if you click on any of these, they're huge unless you have a browser which automatically sizes the pic. Man's nephew, Paul, took these pics today. I'll link his website once he tweaks it a bit.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Faceblogging
I realized some time in the past few months that the reason I don't blog as much is that those bitty bites that get posted on Facebook somehow scratch my sharing itch.
So, I'll start to cross post for those friends and family to elect not to participate in such websites.
Alison Krauss soothes my soul.
So, I'll start to cross post for those friends and family to elect not to participate in such websites.
Alison Krauss soothes my soul.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Embroidered egg shells
This is from Facebook a while back. Names have been obscured to protect the guilty.
Flippin' embroidery on egg shells. Why does this outrage me so much? Next we'll be discussing how we can gild spider webs for that understated elegance that makes attics warm and inviting.
Here's a conversation my friend Brian and I had about these eggs.
**A: I almost had a stroke when I saw this project. Poor Man had to listen to me holler "never never never!" a couple of times in response to this utterly ridiculous project.
**B - Why "never never never"?
**A - Really? Sewing on an eggshell? Shoot me now. Maybe I havn't been very public about my recent wrastlings [sic] with the fiber arts.
Just... just shoot me before I ever attempt this project.
**B - I don't know... In school they had us do threading projects like this all the time. Granted, it wasn't on egg shells, but I'm failing to see how egg shells turns a rather ordinary craft into something that is worse than death. Maybe I was born from an egg... ???
**A - Working with eggshells is extremely difficult. They are sturdy little guys, sure, but playing with rough edges on an egg shell is just asking for disaster. Pulling a thread tight on a hole is a crack waiting to happen. And after you spend hours making these things cute, what do you do with them? Take pictures for the interwebs and try not to cry when your kids "just wanna see" and they end up in a pile of shards and floss and broken dreams of cute mommy blogs where everything glows in immortal, pixelated glory.
Maybe I've been traumatized by my dogged persistence in trying to make some crafts work out despite the reality that delicate materials tend to perish in my man hands. Maybe I have white, housewife guilt because I'm capable neither of decorating my home nor of making elegant handicrafts. Perhaps I just tremble with my compulsive desire to approximate my smaller scale, more refined sisters and their single frame successes. Maybe this project represents the hours and money I've poured into attempting to make similarly inane pieces of homey expression as effigies of domestic felicity, because my efforts to create that same felicity in relationships has been such a monumental struggle.
And now you've done it, Brian. You've tapped into my reservoir of shame, shaped and filled to overflowing by hopeless Christian aspirations toward perfection, my racial achievement culture including the hyper-hip and coastal power earners, and the need to deserve my place in this country despite obesity, pimples, my uncanny ability to have sweaty palms even in the dead of winter, and the fact that I've never had an Asian boyfriend. So, for that, THANKS.
(Actually, this has been an interesting foray into some creative writing. Thanks for that, man.)
**B - Oh. I just thought maybe you had a thing where eggs grossed you out.
The lady in the blog DID say that not even a single crack formed while drilling the little holes. Maybe she just had more Asian boyfriends than you.
**A - I almost blew half chewed apple out my nose. I am so fake-outraged that you would throw that in my face.
(My note: after reading this exchange, Man said that I should write more for the masses that are normal, like me, rather than pretend perfect, like the Stepford blogging mommies who would freaking embroider egg shells. From him, that's a huge compliment.)
Embroidery on egg shells
by Annie H on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 at 12:26pm
Here's a conversation my friend Brian and I had about these eggs.
**A: I almost had a stroke when I saw this project. Poor Man had to listen to me holler "never never never!" a couple of times in response to this utterly ridiculous project.
**B - Why "never never never"?
**A - Really? Sewing on an eggshell? Shoot me now. Maybe I havn't been very public about my recent wrastlings [sic] with the fiber arts.
Just... just shoot me before I ever attempt this project.
**B - I don't know... In school they had us do threading projects like this all the time. Granted, it wasn't on egg shells, but I'm failing to see how egg shells turns a rather ordinary craft into something that is worse than death. Maybe I was born from an egg... ???
**A - Working with eggshells is extremely difficult. They are sturdy little guys, sure, but playing with rough edges on an egg shell is just asking for disaster. Pulling a thread tight on a hole is a crack waiting to happen. And after you spend hours making these things cute, what do you do with them? Take pictures for the interwebs and try not to cry when your kids "just wanna see" and they end up in a pile of shards and floss and broken dreams of cute mommy blogs where everything glows in immortal, pixelated glory.
Maybe I've been traumatized by my dogged persistence in trying to make some crafts work out despite the reality that delicate materials tend to perish in my man hands. Maybe I have white, housewife guilt because I'm capable neither of decorating my home nor of making elegant handicrafts. Perhaps I just tremble with my compulsive desire to approximate my smaller scale, more refined sisters and their single frame successes. Maybe this project represents the hours and money I've poured into attempting to make similarly inane pieces of homey expression as effigies of domestic felicity, because my efforts to create that same felicity in relationships has been such a monumental struggle.
And now you've done it, Brian. You've tapped into my reservoir of shame, shaped and filled to overflowing by hopeless Christian aspirations toward perfection, my racial achievement culture including the hyper-hip and coastal power earners, and the need to deserve my place in this country despite obesity, pimples, my uncanny ability to have sweaty palms even in the dead of winter, and the fact that I've never had an Asian boyfriend. So, for that, THANKS.
(Actually, this has been an interesting foray into some creative writing. Thanks for that, man.)
**B - Oh. I just thought maybe you had a thing where eggs grossed you out.
The lady in the blog DID say that not even a single crack formed while drilling the little holes. Maybe she just had more Asian boyfriends than you.
**A - I almost blew half chewed apple out my nose. I am so fake-outraged that you would throw that in my face.
(My note: after reading this exchange, Man said that I should write more for the masses that are normal, like me, rather than pretend perfect, like the Stepford blogging mommies who would freaking embroider egg shells. From him, that's a huge compliment.)
cart stalking
I admit it:
I just spent about 15 minutes going through the coupon clippers website, carefully selecting coupons for my desired products and in carefully considered quantities. Then closed the tab and walked away.
Then I spent about 30 minutes putting together outfits from the Coldwater Creek outlet website. One was a nice skirt/sweater combo in blue, another in purple. And a fabulously beautiful tshirt in gorgeous greens. Then I closed the tab and walked away.
My Amazon wishlist is getting a little out of hand, but only because I actually have an account there and closing the tab doesn't erase my cart.
Don't even get me started on the thousands of dollars worth of dreams I've shuffled in and out of my Webstraurant cart.
It's funny how idle dreams don't always spur me to acquisition.
What sorts of sites do you cart stalk?
I just spent about 15 minutes going through the coupon clippers website, carefully selecting coupons for my desired products and in carefully considered quantities. Then closed the tab and walked away.
Then I spent about 30 minutes putting together outfits from the Coldwater Creek outlet website. One was a nice skirt/sweater combo in blue, another in purple. And a fabulously beautiful tshirt in gorgeous greens. Then I closed the tab and walked away.
My Amazon wishlist is getting a little out of hand, but only because I actually have an account there and closing the tab doesn't erase my cart.
Don't even get me started on the thousands of dollars worth of dreams I've shuffled in and out of my Webstraurant cart.
It's funny how idle dreams don't always spur me to acquisition.
What sorts of sites do you cart stalk?
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Mother's Day
To this day and forever, the greatest moment I can recall in my relationship with my mother is when I called her, on this holiday ten years ago, to let her know that I was carrying an illegitimate child. Her response is something I cherish:
Mom, you're the best.
Man invited me to select a new set of silverware as a gift for mother's day. It has been some years since we bought our current set and the teaspoons and salad forks have undergone a mysterious attrition. I happily ordered a set which I had studied in minute detail over the past several weeks. And a whisk.
Today we visited the home of one of Man's sisters, where we enjoyed delicious grilled salmon and shortcake topped with fresh whipped cream and macerated strawberry/mango/rhubarb. Afterward, my sister in law, niece and I happily polished, sorted, and admired sea glass from Cuba while all of our wee children played outside on a warm, slightly breezy evening.
Of course mothers were extensively praised and thanked in every church meeting we attended today, and we were showered with chocolate and angel food cake topped with strawberries and cream.
All in all, I feel celebrated.
I met the visiting teacher (church thing, where women visit each other to foster friendship and make sure everyone is getting the love and help they need) of the lady who owns the home which we are renting. She fervently extolled the virtues of the dear sister who occupied this house before me, praising the tidiness with which she kept her home. Dude. No pressure.
But hey, I'm celebrated.
I will always love you.
Mom, you're the best.
Man invited me to select a new set of silverware as a gift for mother's day. It has been some years since we bought our current set and the teaspoons and salad forks have undergone a mysterious attrition. I happily ordered a set which I had studied in minute detail over the past several weeks. And a whisk.
Today we visited the home of one of Man's sisters, where we enjoyed delicious grilled salmon and shortcake topped with fresh whipped cream and macerated strawberry/mango/rhubarb. Afterward, my sister in law, niece and I happily polished, sorted, and admired sea glass from Cuba while all of our wee children played outside on a warm, slightly breezy evening.
Of course mothers were extensively praised and thanked in every church meeting we attended today, and we were showered with chocolate and angel food cake topped with strawberries and cream.
All in all, I feel celebrated.
I met the visiting teacher (church thing, where women visit each other to foster friendship and make sure everyone is getting the love and help they need) of the lady who owns the home which we are renting. She fervently extolled the virtues of the dear sister who occupied this house before me, praising the tidiness with which she kept her home. Dude. No pressure.
But hey, I'm celebrated.
Monday, May 02, 2011
A rant, copied from Facebook
Just shush. No, really, SHOOSH!!
by Annie H on Monday, May 2, 2011 at 10:53am
Oh, the conspiracy theories, assumptions, and stick up your butt suspicions about politicians of every stripe and creed! Don't you realize that for every point of conspiracy you fabricate you only add to the number of lies in the universe? You think you are so wise that you can see through a media portrayal of a situation for which you have no special intelligence beyond your own pride. Internet! Really! I don't care if you think that they sliced Bin Laden from neck to navel and found a mini Jimmy Hoffa quietly constructing a dirty nuke out of unobtanium! You're not helping by making more lies.
The only reason you're puking these abominations is to make yourself sound savvy, jaded, and just slightly more in the know than any other American who has access to exactly the same information you do. You think you've merely had a brilliant epiphany, made the rare connection, and totally Da Vinci Coded the American Government. You don't even understand the American government, let alone the motives and imminent reactions of a culture which you've never bothered to study!
Let me tell you something that your parents may have tried to pound into your skull while you were still an adolescent: no one cares about your opinions nearly as much as you do, especially when they are based on noxious vapor. The only people who will agree with you without question are called toadies, and for good reason. They want to ride the coattails of what they perceive as great wisdom and insight, and they want to be hip enough to say later "I told you so" to pathetic unbelievers who might have been among the elite who knew, if only they had listened to your tripe in the first place. They make heuristic analyses where you are the main source of information and you use their sycophantic fawning as confirmation that you are a flippin' Nostradamus.
Well, congratulations. You feel so good about yourself, spouting off your assumptions in a public forum where arguments are safe as long as you use enough CAPS and buzz words from obscure political ideologies to make the rude dissenters finally walk away in disgust. Bravo.
Now, shut up. Really.
The only reason you're puking these abominations is to make yourself sound savvy, jaded, and just slightly more in the know than any other American who has access to exactly the same information you do. You think you've merely had a brilliant epiphany, made the rare connection, and totally Da Vinci Coded the American Government. You don't even understand the American government, let alone the motives and imminent reactions of a culture which you've never bothered to study!
Let me tell you something that your parents may have tried to pound into your skull while you were still an adolescent: no one cares about your opinions nearly as much as you do, especially when they are based on noxious vapor. The only people who will agree with you without question are called toadies, and for good reason. They want to ride the coattails of what they perceive as great wisdom and insight, and they want to be hip enough to say later "I told you so" to pathetic unbelievers who might have been among the elite who knew, if only they had listened to your tripe in the first place. They make heuristic analyses where you are the main source of information and you use their sycophantic fawning as confirmation that you are a flippin' Nostradamus.
Well, congratulations. You feel so good about yourself, spouting off your assumptions in a public forum where arguments are safe as long as you use enough CAPS and buzz words from obscure political ideologies to make the rude dissenters finally walk away in disgust. Bravo.
Now, shut up. Really.
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