My sister believes that the world can be broken--very simply--into two groups of people. Those who like The BeeGees and those who like The Carpenters. You know what? That's the kind of religion I can get behind. No one ever strapped a bomb to their chest and blew up a school bus because someone else didn't know all the words to Superstar.
Oh and by the way, whether you're a BeeGee or a Carpenter fan, I will call you a liar if you say you don't know all the words to Superstar.
God speed Robin Gibb. You seemed like a nice guy.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
Again
I haven't had time to write--again!
The camera is missing--again!
The cat is in heat--again!
I have a Baby Surprise Sweater on the needles--again!
I bought too much yarn--again!
I lost my debit/credit card--again!
At least I'm predictable.
The camera is missing--again!
The cat is in heat--again!
I have a Baby Surprise Sweater on the needles--again!
I bought too much yarn--again!
I lost my debit/credit card--again!
At least I'm predictable.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Too Long
I've been gone too long and I missed my silly little blog and all six of my readers (okay, maybe seven--at least you are loyal).
So let's just go with today.
It's Titanic Day. Not sure where to go with that but I would like to think that I am the reincarnation of the first guy who yelled ICEBURG. I do try very hard to be a problem solver but, I've discovered that noticing the problem (or shall we way iceburg) does not always mean that you can stop the boat from slamming into it.
Onward.
There will be photos of two really cute baby sweaters. For twins!!! Twins!! I love twins.
Remember this yarn from China
Well it knits up some kind of gorgeous and a little roll in a front load washing machine gave it just enough fullness to make me swoon. It's drying in the bedroom right now and waiting for buttons so pictures will have to come another day. There will be pearls and little bunnies. Too cute.
In other news, we have had a lovely weekend which has climaxed with a really yummy dinner.
Are you ready?
This is one of those recipes where you really, really have to trust yourself. It's a little spicy but not crazy hot and I think you'll like it.
First, cut up four russet potatoes into 1 inch (ish) chunks. Toss them on a sheet pan with lots of salt and pepper. Drizzle with olive oil, toss them around and pop them in a 425 oven for about an hour. Halfway through, flip them over as best you can.
I came up with the rest when I was standing in Foodtown staring at the meat case trying to figure out what to make for dinner. I ran into a guy I went to grade school with (he was buying bananas) and he said "Just stand there until something comes to you."
He was right.
So here we go (I really should have taken pictures because this is a sort of vague recipe).
4 links sweet Italian sausage
4 boneless skinless chicken thighs (if the store doesn't have them get your lazy ass off the couch and bone and skin them yourself) cut into chunks
2 cubanelle peppers
a bunch of cloves of garlic
1/2 a jar of sliced hot cherry peppers
some chicken broth
some white wine
Drizzle a little olive oil in your big skillet, poke the sausages with a fork and let them get some color on them. Take them out of the pan as soon as they are starting to get brown (they will still be raw). Slice the cubanelles long ways (take out the seeds) and toss them in the pan. If you need more oil, feel free to add more oil. Run as much garlic as you like through the garlic press and add it to the pan.
While this is cooking away, slice the somewhat raw sausage into coins and cut your chicken in cubes.
When it feels right, put the sausage in the pan. As soon as it starts to brown, add the chicken. Keep the heat sort of low at this point.
Now, I know it seems like you are wasting wine but it is worth it. Once around the pan with a bottle of dry white wine and then once around the pan (maybe twice) with some chicken broth). Bring it to a boil and let it simmer until the chicken is just about done.
Use a fork to add half the cherry peppers to the pan, then pour in some of the hot brine that they came in. Let it simmer until everything is done and the potatoes are ridiculously crisp on the outside and creamy on the inside.
It's a party for your mouth and a perfect meal to listen to American Roots with.
P.S. It's Joey Ramone day. Can't belief it was that long ago.
So let's just go with today.
It's Titanic Day. Not sure where to go with that but I would like to think that I am the reincarnation of the first guy who yelled ICEBURG. I do try very hard to be a problem solver but, I've discovered that noticing the problem (or shall we way iceburg) does not always mean that you can stop the boat from slamming into it.
Onward.
There will be photos of two really cute baby sweaters. For twins!!! Twins!! I love twins.
Remember this yarn from China
Well it knits up some kind of gorgeous and a little roll in a front load washing machine gave it just enough fullness to make me swoon. It's drying in the bedroom right now and waiting for buttons so pictures will have to come another day. There will be pearls and little bunnies. Too cute.
In other news, we have had a lovely weekend which has climaxed with a really yummy dinner.
Are you ready?
This is one of those recipes where you really, really have to trust yourself. It's a little spicy but not crazy hot and I think you'll like it.
First, cut up four russet potatoes into 1 inch (ish) chunks. Toss them on a sheet pan with lots of salt and pepper. Drizzle with olive oil, toss them around and pop them in a 425 oven for about an hour. Halfway through, flip them over as best you can.
I came up with the rest when I was standing in Foodtown staring at the meat case trying to figure out what to make for dinner. I ran into a guy I went to grade school with (he was buying bananas) and he said "Just stand there until something comes to you."
He was right.
So here we go (I really should have taken pictures because this is a sort of vague recipe).
4 links sweet Italian sausage
4 boneless skinless chicken thighs (if the store doesn't have them get your lazy ass off the couch and bone and skin them yourself) cut into chunks
2 cubanelle peppers
a bunch of cloves of garlic
1/2 a jar of sliced hot cherry peppers
some chicken broth
some white wine
Drizzle a little olive oil in your big skillet, poke the sausages with a fork and let them get some color on them. Take them out of the pan as soon as they are starting to get brown (they will still be raw). Slice the cubanelles long ways (take out the seeds) and toss them in the pan. If you need more oil, feel free to add more oil. Run as much garlic as you like through the garlic press and add it to the pan.
While this is cooking away, slice the somewhat raw sausage into coins and cut your chicken in cubes.
When it feels right, put the sausage in the pan. As soon as it starts to brown, add the chicken. Keep the heat sort of low at this point.
Now, I know it seems like you are wasting wine but it is worth it. Once around the pan with a bottle of dry white wine and then once around the pan (maybe twice) with some chicken broth). Bring it to a boil and let it simmer until the chicken is just about done.
Use a fork to add half the cherry peppers to the pan, then pour in some of the hot brine that they came in. Let it simmer until everything is done and the potatoes are ridiculously crisp on the outside and creamy on the inside.
It's a party for your mouth and a perfect meal to listen to American Roots with.
P.S. It's Joey Ramone day. Can't belief it was that long ago.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
If I Win The Lottery
I realized tonight that if I win the lottery tomorrow night (which I am sure will happen) my federal government and my state government will make a lot of un-budgeted tax income. The jackpot is based on how many people play the lottery so there's no way any government agency could budget for it.
That means that, basically, the tax income to the state and federal government is free money. And, if I win, I would really love to have a say in where those taxes go.
So here's what I want. I want my tax money from my lottery windfall to pay for a fund that provides supplemental income to the working poor to bring their wages up to a living wage. Right now, in Westchester County, the living wage is $11.45 per hour. Anyone who makes less than that could apply for a weekly supplement. I would have some requirements about the business (for example, you would have to work for a business that couldn't afford to pay a living wage) so that this would be both a benefit to the employee and to businesses.
I know that this isn't completely thought out but, off the top of my head, it seems like an interesting idea.
If you win the lottery, what do you want to have happen with the tax money that you pay?
That means that, basically, the tax income to the state and federal government is free money. And, if I win, I would really love to have a say in where those taxes go.
So here's what I want. I want my tax money from my lottery windfall to pay for a fund that provides supplemental income to the working poor to bring their wages up to a living wage. Right now, in Westchester County, the living wage is $11.45 per hour. Anyone who makes less than that could apply for a weekly supplement. I would have some requirements about the business (for example, you would have to work for a business that couldn't afford to pay a living wage) so that this would be both a benefit to the employee and to businesses.
I know that this isn't completely thought out but, off the top of my head, it seems like an interesting idea.
If you win the lottery, what do you want to have happen with the tax money that you pay?
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Eulogy
Dear Blog Readers:
Five years ago tonight, I met a man who I fell in love with. If you are a reader you know that he died. I guess, if you are not a reader and just landed here tonight, now you know too.
When he died, there was no obituary. There was no eulogy at his funeral. Our relationship was tumultuous. There was plenty of pain and drama but I stayed for a long time becuase I was in love.
So tonight, I don't need to think about the shitty times. I just want to cherish the good times.
And I think he deserves a eulogy. It may or may not be a good one but it's the best I can do right now.
He was an animal whisperer. He could soothe an animal just by talking to it. I had a cat who went deaf and she was so scared by it that she hid in the linen closet for years. He got her to come out and rejoin our household because he was kind to animals.
The man loved sports and he never ever made me feel stupid about it. I think I've made it perfectly clear that I don't really understand sports and, frankly, I don't need to. But he always welcomed me to watching games and he explained them to me in a way that made me feel included and, most importantly, not stupid.
He loved his family but just could never figure out how to show it. He could talk about them for hours and hours and he was so delighted by them but he could never quite figure out how to tell them how much he cared. And that broke http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6939947011112129152#editor/target=post;postID=890358876304572700his heart.
He loved to sing.
He loved to dance.
His favorite trip in his life was going to Ireland.
He really, really wanted to be happy but he could never figure out how.
He had his demons and they got the best of him.
He broke my heart more times than I care to think about.
It was five years ago tonight that I met him and I just can't believe that he is gone.
Godspeed John. I hope you're finally happy.
I've thought about this eulogy for a long time and I know that it is inadequate.
There is so much that I can't articulate but I can say that I really, really hate the fact that there is one less person in the world who loves me.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The Hoodie
I was shocked today to read Geraldo Rivera saying that Trayvon Martin would be alive today if he weren't wearing a hoodie.
You see, I work with a guy who wears a hoodie. And it is definitely a statement. He is very slim. He wears sunglasses that cover most of his face. He has earphones in all the time and rather than walking, he grooves. He is dark skinned. And, I will fully admit that when I first met him, his look startled me. Because he was definitely making a statement with it. And I have learned that his statement--at least to me--was "I am who I am and if you're interested in finding out who I am, I'll be right here in my hoodie. I'm easy to find."
But I wasn't afraid of him.
There are a lot of people in my life and the world that I live in who have distinctive looks--some more accessible than others. I've actually met Johnny Rotten and, for real, the guy's whole persona is really aggressive. In real life, he's lovely. I've never understood the whole idea of having really scary tattoos but, honestly, I have found that most of the people I've met with scary tattoos are pussycats.
So this whole "I was afraid of this guy because he was wearing a hoodie" thing just doesn't hold water with me. It's as if the world is saying racism really doesn't have anything to do with race. It's about fashion.
So of course that got me thinking about the hoodie. I went to Catholic school for 12 years so I spent a lot of time with people who covered their heads. Wimple=Hoodie. And I never shot a nun.
I grew up in a very Jewish neighborhood and I have a friend who is a very observant Jew (we'll be talking about the sweaters for her new twins soon). She covers her head. And I never shot her.
Baseball players cover their head with a cloth cap (yeah--I get it, it has a visor, but they usually have on sunglasses too so the visor is redundant.) I've never shot them.
Covering your head is common. Unless you're black. And then, for some unfathomable reason, it is a huge threat.
Should I embrace the hoodie? No I probably won't. Because it's not my look. I can respect you without emulating you, thank you very much. Should my friend from work who wears a hoodie suddenly start knitting just so that we can have something in common. Of course not. And by the way, I am much more intrigued by people who I have nothing in common with than those who mirror my life.
I don't get it. I never will. It blows my mind that in 2012 a young man can be shot for being black. It also blows my mind that a woman's body is not her own. It blows my mind that teachers are paid shit. It blows my mind that there are so many things that blow my mind.
I don't fear young black men in hoodies. What I really fear is what legacy we are leaving behind and what the history books will say about each and every one of us.
You see, I work with a guy who wears a hoodie. And it is definitely a statement. He is very slim. He wears sunglasses that cover most of his face. He has earphones in all the time and rather than walking, he grooves. He is dark skinned. And, I will fully admit that when I first met him, his look startled me. Because he was definitely making a statement with it. And I have learned that his statement--at least to me--was "I am who I am and if you're interested in finding out who I am, I'll be right here in my hoodie. I'm easy to find."
But I wasn't afraid of him.
There are a lot of people in my life and the world that I live in who have distinctive looks--some more accessible than others. I've actually met Johnny Rotten and, for real, the guy's whole persona is really aggressive. In real life, he's lovely. I've never understood the whole idea of having really scary tattoos but, honestly, I have found that most of the people I've met with scary tattoos are pussycats.
So this whole "I was afraid of this guy because he was wearing a hoodie" thing just doesn't hold water with me. It's as if the world is saying racism really doesn't have anything to do with race. It's about fashion.
So of course that got me thinking about the hoodie. I went to Catholic school for 12 years so I spent a lot of time with people who covered their heads. Wimple=Hoodie. And I never shot a nun.
I grew up in a very Jewish neighborhood and I have a friend who is a very observant Jew (we'll be talking about the sweaters for her new twins soon). She covers her head. And I never shot her.
Baseball players cover their head with a cloth cap (yeah--I get it, it has a visor, but they usually have on sunglasses too so the visor is redundant.) I've never shot them.
Covering your head is common. Unless you're black. And then, for some unfathomable reason, it is a huge threat.
Should I embrace the hoodie? No I probably won't. Because it's not my look. I can respect you without emulating you, thank you very much. Should my friend from work who wears a hoodie suddenly start knitting just so that we can have something in common. Of course not. And by the way, I am much more intrigued by people who I have nothing in common with than those who mirror my life.
I don't get it. I never will. It blows my mind that in 2012 a young man can be shot for being black. It also blows my mind that a woman's body is not her own. It blows my mind that teachers are paid shit. It blows my mind that there are so many things that blow my mind.
I don't fear young black men in hoodies. What I really fear is what legacy we are leaving behind and what the history books will say about each and every one of us.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Spring Fever
This is what I was greeted with when I walked into work this morning.
Isn't she gorgeous? (For some reason flowering trees are always female to me. In the fall when their colors change, they become male.)
I have terrible Spring Fever today so I'm trying to harness it with a Spring Cleaning. Considering the fact that this year I am hoping to finish up the home spring cleaning from 1998, I'm not sure if this is such a good idea. But I have been plugging away at my desk all day long and have actually gotten some things accomplished.
The last few weeks have been kind of crazy. You know the kind of days when you're ready. You've got a plan. You know what you've got to get accomplished and you know just how long it is going to take. Your ready to rock and roll and then someone drops a bomb. And really, I don't mind that at all. I'm not particularly anal about these kinds of things and I really can roll with the punches quite nicely. Most of the time.
But when they start to add up. And the pile is getting bigger. And you can't find a damn thing. And the pile gets knocked over and is still on the floor the next day.
Well then, you have to suck it up a bit and do some spring cleaning.
The windows are open and I have Pandora on (Elvis Costello station, thank you for asking) and I am slowly but surely getting through some of the piles (yes, I've moved into plural).
The problem with this plan is the windows are open and I have Pandora on (Elvis Costello station, thank you for asking) and I have the attention span of a gnat because it is so gorgeous out.
Isn't she gorgeous? (For some reason flowering trees are always female to me. In the fall when their colors change, they become male.)
I have terrible Spring Fever today so I'm trying to harness it with a Spring Cleaning. Considering the fact that this year I am hoping to finish up the home spring cleaning from 1998, I'm not sure if this is such a good idea. But I have been plugging away at my desk all day long and have actually gotten some things accomplished.
The last few weeks have been kind of crazy. You know the kind of days when you're ready. You've got a plan. You know what you've got to get accomplished and you know just how long it is going to take. Your ready to rock and roll and then someone drops a bomb. And really, I don't mind that at all. I'm not particularly anal about these kinds of things and I really can roll with the punches quite nicely. Most of the time.
But when they start to add up. And the pile is getting bigger. And you can't find a damn thing. And the pile gets knocked over and is still on the floor the next day.
Well then, you have to suck it up a bit and do some spring cleaning.
The windows are open and I have Pandora on (Elvis Costello station, thank you for asking) and I am slowly but surely getting through some of the piles (yes, I've moved into plural).
The problem with this plan is the windows are open and I have Pandora on (Elvis Costello station, thank you for asking) and I have the attention span of a gnat because it is so gorgeous out.
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