she's just saying...

A Bread Revolution

These days Henry and I are enjoying freshly baked homemade bread right from the oven several times a week.

Unbelievable, you say? Has Melissa traded in her knitting obsession for a baking one, spending hours mixing, kneading, raising, punching, raising again, baking? Why, no! I have found a book that promises and delivers "the discovery that revolutionizes home baking."

The book is Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoe Francois. (Her name has both an umlaut and cedilla neither of which I care to figure out how to type here.) As described by the New York Times, "Soon the bread will be making itself...The crusty, full-flavored loaf that results may be the world's easiest yeast bread."

The idea is that you mix a fairly wet dough and store it in the fridge without kneading for up to 10 days. Every time you want bread, you pull off a hunk, form it and let it rise (takes about 40 minutes) and bake it. Done. Craziness!

The book takes a one page explanation and recipe and spins it into 242 pages which is a publishing miracle in itself. (They've also built a robust website as well - I sense a marketing mind behind this.) All variations of the same recipe, plus adding eggs, honey and butter to make brioche dough for pastries as well, which I haven't tried yet. I really don't need brioche dough around the house.

All the purists may scoff (because what else do purists do?) but it really works. I may never knead again! 

Okay, I'm not a food photographer. But doesn't it look a little like the book cover?

Most amazing home appliance ever

Henry's Uncle Steve, known to loyal readers as YrBigBro, sent Henry an amazing device that should profoundly influence the direction of our lives from now into the distant future.

Behold: The Muffin and Egg Maker!

It toasts the English muffin AND cooks the egg and even heats a sausage patty ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Brilliant, yes? Whoever invented this is a genius. I've even experimented with adding a little cheese to the egg cup and it works great. Instant egg mcmuffin!

This will radically improve our mornings and Henry's breakfast diet, which will help him concentrate better in school thus getting higher grades, getting accepted to a top school and earning the means to support his dear old mother in her impending old age. Wow. All from a little toaster. Isn't America great?!?

(For family unity I should note that the original toaster idea came from Dr. Sister who sent one to Steve who then sent another one to us. Thank you, family!)

 

Top Ten Tues: boring details edition

Drowning Girl by Roy Lichtenstein

What idiot said: "Don't sweat the small stuff -- and it's all small stuff"?

Actually, he's right, it pretty much is all small stuff. But it all has to be sweated, or it won't get done. Then what do you have?? The fabric of our society torn apart, rather than just fraying at the edges.

I'm having one of those nights. Here's what I'm obsessing about:

1. Henry's 11th birthday tomorrow - I haven't planned anything
2. Buying cookies for Henry's class on the way to work in the am
3. Finishing videos and the website for the new exhibit we're opening Thursday
4. Flying out at 6 am Sat. for a knitting retreat
5. Organizing Henry for the weekend, complete with ski stuff
6. Valentines Day (the day I return) - cards, candy, etc. for H.
7. Ravelympics 2010 - a knitting event during the Olympics (I'm on Team Hopelessly Overcommitted)
8. Calling my parents
9. Getting Flash to the vet, and oh, who's going to watch him this weekend?
10. Fixing the leak over the kitchen window - needs professional help

Sometimes it's all too much. Nothing to do but have another glass of wine and tackle today's Sudoku. Or whine about it in a blog post.

What do you do when you're being sucked under by the small stuff?

Top Ten Tues: sustainable or just cheap?

My parents are both very frugal. My mom grew up on a small farm in New England, a direct descendent of austere puritan stock. My dad grew up during the Depression in Germany. Though his family was well-off, it must have left an impression, because he's always been fiscally conservative. Putting four kids through good private college and grad school on an engineer's salary must have been tight, but we had a solidly upper-middle-class upbringing due to my parents' careful spending.

Regrettably, I can't say I inherited the trait. I think my family considers me fairly extravagant. However, I did pick up some cost-saving habits along the way. My friends used to laugh at me for them, but now they're kinda green and eco-hip.

So whether you want to save money or the planet, here are ten 3R*s I learned at home:

1. Rinsing and reusing ziplock baggies, bread wrappers, foil and paper plates - always some drying on a rack by the sink
2. Saving butter wrappers to grease cookie sheets
3. Using dishcloths instead of paper towels (sorry, KathiD: warshrags)
4. Picking all the meat off the turkey carcass for soup and stock
5. Carefully saving wrapping, bows and ribbon to reuse, sometimes for years (the common refrain at Christmas: "don't rip the paper!")
6. Putting cheese ends and bread crusts in the freezer for fondue and breadcrumbs
7. Pouring off bacon grease for cooking (I don't cook bacon, but I do render chicken fat)
8. Composting and growing our own vegetables (we composted back in the 50's - it was considered a bit weird in our suburb)
9. Adding water to dishwashing liquid to stretch it
10. All four of us taking a bath together to save water (OK, that was when I was 4)

Okay, I know a lot of you had a similar upbringing. Share your passed-down cheap green habits here.

*reduce/reuse/recycle, but you knew that

What's in your cupboard?

I love and admire my big sisters. They're role models and (now that they're no longer babysitting me) friends. And they're both great cooks.

Sister #1 (the eldest) visits me at Christmas about every other year. She loves to take on cooking the big fancy meals and I love to let her. She always has a new recipe or approach she wants to try as well as the old favorites. We're both "foodies" (I know, I hate that word too) and use what some might call exotic or gourmet ingredients. But every year, there's an ingredient she needs for a dish that I don't stock.

The first year, it was white pepper. I'm a black pepper fan and had never seen the need to use any other color, but after not having it that year, I was sure to keep it in stock. (It's a more delicate flavor and doesn't mess up a white dish with unsightly black flecks, if you have to know.)

The next year it was capers, which I do normally have, but had run out and not restocked. Two years ago it was Kitchen Bouquet. "You don't have any Kitchen Bouquet???" she asked incredulously. I'll confess I had no idea what it was, though I'd seen in in my mom's cupboard. I also don't cook beef so didn't use it in gravy, which was what S#1 wanted it for. This sticks in my mind because my niece innocently asked what was wrong with the gravy, and was informed that it looked that way because "Melissa doesn't have any Kitchen Bouquet!" You better believe I went and bought some after that.

This year, I carefully checked my supplies, laid in several more pounds of butter and a quart of half-and-half and figured I was good. And I was, pretty much, except for dried tarragon and white wine vinegar. Honestly, how can you make Bearnaise sauce without tarragon and w.w.vinegar?  (I didn't get any points for growing fresh tarragon as it had already died. And I had FOUR other kinds of vinegar, but oh well.) 

Well, S#1 managed with fresh parsley and shallots (both of which I did have on hand), and the Bearnaise and the entire meal was incredible. Then she made Hopping John for New Year's and that was delicious as well. (I ran out of onions for that one but the neighbors came through.) It was a wonderful visit and I'm glad she made the trek across the continent to see us.

Of course, now I'm a little paranoid about the deficiencies of my pantry -- what will it be next time? Any guesses?

The mysterious "Kitchen Bouquet"

Once a challenge: now routine.

Remember this post? I was so proud of my competent-ness.

My soccer-mom cream Subaru Outback station wagon's headlight was out. (This, and the second favorite forest green color, is the official car of the Bend School District. Or should be.) Neighbor X pointed this out and offered to help me change it. Since I am Independent Woman, I decided I would tackle it myself.

Remembering my mantra (one of them): "Girls can do anything," I drove to the auto parts store, had that momentary gut-flutter walking in the door (male-domination shopping anxiety), and strode purposefully over to the "Headlights" section. I had run through the lights in the parking lot to make sure I knew which one was out and had studied the manual, memorizing the part number before entering the testosterone zone. My goal was not to go up to the counter first and play the part of the helpless female asking for guidance from a patronizing clerk who gets to flex his superiority muscles. If you're a do-it-yourself female, you know what I'm talking about.

I found the part number easily, briefly negotiated the various brands and qualities of headlight, and grabbed the most techno-contempo package. Took it up to the counter where a very nice gentle biker-type helped me. I asked casually if this was something I could fix myself and added: "I'm pretty handy." He replied, "Well, if you're handy, it should be easy." We decided I should change out both at the same time as the brand I chose was "better than your stock bulb." (I need all the light I can get these days.) I paid and left, wondering if I actually was pretty handy, and sort of surprised I described myself that way.

Got home, mixed up a Bloody Mary for support (it's Sunday afternoon!) and studied the manual. Incomprehensible diagrams as usual. I popped the hood, fumbled around and figured it all out eventually. Changed out the bulbs and added anti-freeze for good measure. Checked that they worked, closed the hood and basked in that rush of pride, strength and satisfaction that comes whenever I accomplish a "guy's job."

Whoo hoo! I came back inside, turned on the Seahawks game and picked up my knitting, repeating under my breath: "I'm pretty handy," and feeling it.

-------------------------------------------

Well. last week the same lightbulb burned out and I had to replace it again. No longer a challenge to master; now another routine chore ...

Update for all concerned readers: NO, I didn't touch the bulb! Does it look like I'm touching the bulb???

And yes, I do need a manicure - thank you for noticing.

Next: I replace the brake pads! (just kidding)

Covered in steamed milk and Yeti fur

Quick - what's that a picture of?

A yeti in a snowstorm!

We've got yeti on the brain right now, as Henry decided (on Sunday night) that was what he was going to be on Halloween. Not Friday night or even Saturday, when I had time to go out and round up yeti paraphernalia. But if life weren't like a sit-com, who would read blogs?

Luckily Joanne's Fabrics had perfect hairy white fabric, and on sale! After considering and rejecting the hot glue gun or spray mount, I decided I had to bite the bullet and sew. Now, I hate to use my sewing machine, so this was truly an act of motherly sacrifice. Plus, once it's out and set up, I have some hemming I can do.

Meanwhile, at the same time, Mr. G's fifth-grade class was assigned an independent (read: parent-produced) project which involved a speech, audio visual aids and samples of "Our family's favorite snack." Since Chardonnay and olives were probably inappropriate, we settled on Italian vanilla steamed milk, which Henry gets me to make if he gets up before the expresso machine cools.

So, this morning had me sewing up the last seams of the Yeti costume while steaming hot milk for 32. And of course, I was wearing black velvet head to toe for my annual kitty cat costume. The long white fur shed everywhere, the steamer wand popped off spraying sticky milk everywhere, and I was swearing and yelling and generally starting the day off with a (hairy) splash.

How was your morning?

A social caterpillar

I remember a time when I went out every night. Actually it was many times. I remember thinking if I stopped wanting to go to a club my life would be pretty much over. This was when I was in Boston, or NYC, or maybe LA, where that's what you did. Well, those days are long over, though my life seems not to be. So over, in fact, that I can't remember the last time I went to anything resembling a club. (Well, yes I can but that's another story.)

I don't even go out to dinner or drinks any more. Maybe once a month? That used to be a couple-times-a-week kind of thing. Much of that has to do with being single, as in solo. That may be the second thing I miss most about being in a relationship.

This is how I socialize these days: I stay home. Friends come by, usually one or two at a time. My single and even a few married friends love to hang out and drink wine while I cook, eat a grazing meal of cheese, olives, bread, apples and whatever odd sauce or chutney I have in the fridge, chat, watch a ball game or knit or just read the paper in each other's company. This happens several afternoons and nights a week. I like it because I don't have to go anywhere and I can keep some semblance of control over Henry. They like it for the family energy, the nurturing, the wine and of course my company.

I do get antsy, especially around Friday or Saturday early in the evening, when a change of venue would be welcome. But I love my compound, summer or winter, and I love to entertain casually, so it's all pretty good. This is how I've matured: I now know that going-out opportunities will come again, so I'm content to enjoy what I have right now. But I do have some wild memories of late late nights at dark loud clubs. I'd do it again, for sure.

We wuz skunked.

My dog Flash is getting older, as are we all.  And I blame his senior bladder for how our house smells these days. No, he didn't have an accident, or not the kind you're thinking of. But let me just say you may not want to come visit for awhile.

He now needs to go out in the middle of the night occasionally to do his thing as we like to call it. (Puppies for Dummies advised that you repeat a certain phrase while your puppy is potty-training, so he'll link that to the urge and go on command. It worked on this OCD border collie.)

He wakes me very sweetly, first with a scratch or two at the door, then with a little "woof" until I get the message and get up. So last Thursday night he went out at about 1:30 am while I blearily waited by the door. There was some barking, then we were suddenly enveloped in that burnt-rubber, sulfurous, gassy odor that is pure skunk. Flash came trotting back as if nothing happened and tried to get back in my room. He honestly didn't smell or look like he'd been skunked or maybe it was middle-of-the-night wishful thinking on my part, but we both went back to bed. The next morning it was clear that either he or the house or both were on the receiving end of Mephitis mephitis.

I think Flash must have ducked out of the way or the skunk was a long way off, 'cause he wasn't as bad as I've experienced with past dogs. However, I knew I had to deal with it when the next morning I went to work and smelled skunky all day. On my clothes, just from hanging overnight in a closet in the same house as a smelly dog! That stuff is a bio-weapon that could take down a subway train. (Hmmm - screenplay idea?) Anyway.

I took him to the Dogromat on Saturday, which I love for the name if nothing else, and I brushed and sudsed and conditioned and sprayed and then I washed the dog. [Do I need to point out when I make a joke, or is it obvious? Just wondering.] He came home all fluffy and soft but still pretty odorous.

Even though it's freezing already, we've been opening the doors to air out the house and burning smelly finely-scented candles. Nothing seems to help except getting used to it. Then you go outside to get the mail or take out the garbage and it hits you again like the first time when you come back in.

I cooked a lot this weekend, putting up tomato sauce, apple chutney, etc. in some atavistic winter burrowing ritual. Mmmm. Nothing says home like the oddly-not-unpleasant mix of skunk, garlic and onions. Sure you don't want to come over?

Beet Me, or, What I Did Last Night

Local alert: Richard's Produce Stand is closing down for the season Oct.15. (I asked Adam what I'm going to do all winter without him, and he said: "Eat citrus." It's going to be a long winter.) 

I'm already anticipating the produce withdrawal and it won't be pretty. So meanwhile I'm overbuying and it's a great time to do it as everything is at the peak of ripeness. I'm putting up sauteed tomato chunks and garlic, freezing peach slices, jarring peeled garlic cloves in olive oil* and making parsley salsa. And last night I roasted beets.

I've never cooked beets before due to memories of their canned weirdness, but they looked really cool at the produce stand and I felt adventurous. Plus, the New York Times decreed "Beets: the New Spinach" so I had to jump on the trendwagon.

I fired up the gas grill (with soaked wood chips for a nice smoky touch), tossed slices of unpeeled beets with olive oil/salt and slow-grilled them for 40 minutes or so, turning once. I also threw thick slices of onion and a head of garlic in foil on there just to be efficient. They all came out caramelized and smoky and really transformative.

Beets pair well with goat cheese to cut their sweetness and add a creamy tang, so I'm making a beet/arugula/chevre salad with vinaigrette to serve with crusty bread and pinot gris. Dinner's at seven.

the beetness of beets

*Note: storing garlic cloves in olive oil at room temperature is a perfect recipe for botulism. Refrigerate.

In which I do nothing, then take a break

I think I'm getting the hang of doing nothing. Really, it's not so bad. And I'm not even on drugs.

What I have been doing:

• Eating
• Wandering around the house poking things with my toe that I can't pick up
• Watching the Red Sox via computer
• Teaching Robin to knit
• Wiping the counters -- I really like clean counters
• Making stuff to eat
• Un-hibernating the tweedy sweater. I had to relearn the pattern, remember where I made the mistake so I could re-create it on the next section, and dive in again. Very gratifying.
• Trying to remember which eye drop I just used
• Doing the daily Sudoku
• Presented a PowerPoint research analysis to the Museum Board from my bed
• Snacking
• Pointing at things for Henry to pick up
• Wandering around the back deck
• Looking for stuff to eat in the fridge

Don't you envy me, just a little bit?

Enforced nothingness

So due to circumstances that are NOT MY FAULT, I'm now on doctor-prescribed bedrest to maintain a stable state of eye.

Last week's surgery to relieve my eye pressure worked a little too well, and my eye now resembles a slowly deflating water balloon. That makes it vulnerable to bursting blood vessels and other gross stuff, so now I'm on hourly drops and the no-stress-no-strain unactivity plan. I feel totally fine, we're still stocked up from the Unitarian casserole brigade and Henry is remarkably self-sufficient, so here I recline.

A confession: I've always envied people on enforced bedrest. It sounded so lovely to this stressed-out and slightly compulsive working mom. A nice stretch of not doing anything and not feeling the least bit guilty about it. I'd be entitled to read, knit, watch movies, get people to bring me stuff, surf the interwebs, etc. But here I am on the first morning of it and I'm antsy and restless, of course. 

One problem is that I'm congenitally incapable of watching TV during daylight hours. (Exception: baseball.) I just can't bring myself to do it. It's just a short step from that to 500 pounds and a crane hauling me out of my bedroom window. So that option (which includes movies) is out. NPR, podcasts and audiobooks are better, but that's because I normally do something useful while listening. However, talking heads do start to drone after awhile. And local radio = no good.

Not that I consider myself energetic, believe me. I don't chomp at the bit to hike/bike/climb/ski stuff like most of my friends (who are all a little tightly wired IMHO). I'm known more for hanging out at home: knitting little morsels, solving sudokus, creating recipes, digging in the garden, fixing endless broken crap, wrangling the pets and haranguing the child. High-energy puttering, my old roommate called it. I even meditate for crying out loud. However, now that I'm parked on the reclining side of the coin only, it chafes.

Clearly I need more practice.

the view from the head of the bed

How to prepare for eye surgery

1. Go to Costco.
2. Clean the house.
3. Freeze casseroles.
4. Mow the lawn.
5. Wash the dog.
6. Begin Pinot Grigio detox.
7. Hit the bank, return library books, rent movies.
8. Get a pedicure.
9. Update the iPod.
10. Remove toe ring.
11. Buy pretty panties.
12. Clean the fish tank.
13. Prepare low-vision knitting strategy.

I think I'm ready.

What would be on your list?

Zucchini risotto, a la Susan

 

 

I've made this a lot, as you can see

Note: This subject is now in the running with fowlwear as the highest searched phrase that leads innocents to my blog. So I'm republishing this with my sister's notes. Enjoy!

Henry will eat an entire pan of this, and that's at least a couple zucchini right there. Save this for when we actually have the warmth to grow something in Central Oregon and it turns out to be zucchini.

My sister Susan won a cooking contest with this recipe many years ago, and it is truly a winner. However, two of my sister's four major food groups are cream and butter (merlot and chocolate being the other two), so I've lightened and simplified her recipe. This is easily a work-night dinner, providing you have risotto rice and zucchini. Or a great side to anything. And it lasts and heats up great for leftovers.

Zucchini Risotto

Buy the real Arborio rice - even Safeway carries it now. And for the love of god, don't use Kraft parmesan. Though I know you don't, do you?

2 T butter (down from my sister's 6 T - if you want to go there, be my guest)
1 C Arborio rice
4+ cups chicken stock (free-range organic, of course)
1 egg yolk (I use the whole egg, actually)
1/4 cup half-&-half or milk (Susan's original calls for heavy cream - right!)
1 T olive oil - but who measures?
3 small zucchini, sliced thin or grated if easier
1/4 cup parmesan or more
2 lg garlic cloves (admission: I use jarred chopped garlic - nothing would get cooked here if I didn't)
1 bunch scallions or chopped onions or shallots - whichever
salt/pepper
1/2 c chopped ITALIAN parsley - don't ever use the frilly garnish kind - no flavor
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/3 cup or so of white wine - whatever you're drinking at the moment

So, if you've never made risotto before, it's way easier than its reputation.First, melt 2 T of the butter and the olive oil, add the onion and saute slowly.

(Mmmm, the smell of frying onions - guaranteed to make men go wild, if you're looking for that sort of thing.)

Once they're soft, throw in the garlic (so it doesn't burn), then all the rice, with a little more oil. I know, seems weird with no liquid, but that's risotto. Stir fry the rice for a few minutes, then add about a cup of broth. Traditionally, it should be hot, which you can do in a glass pyrex cup measure in the microwave. But you don't have to.

The key to risotto is to keep adding the broth as the rice sucks it up - it should never be dry or conversely, drowned. You do have to stir regularly, though not continuously as the books would say.

Now, my sister sautes the zucchini with garlic in a separate pan, but I don't because I'm all about one-pot meals. The cheater way is to add the zuke when the rice is almost done, along with the cream, egg and parmesan, lemon, wine, salt/pepper and parsley. I throw it all in together and it comes out fine.

You'll need to correct the rice with broth or hot water if it isn't done enough or is too dry. Cook til it's done. This is where my sister adds the additional 4 tablespoons of butter. Because it's not rich enough.

I'm realizing it's really hard to write recipes down when you cook intuitively. If you'd like a step-by-step explanation of risotto, you'll need to use a cookbook.

Notes from my sister:

"Oh, for heaven's sake-- one-quarter cup of heavy cream in a recipe with a quart of chicken stock isn't going to kill you. I won the cooking contest many years ago, when risotto was wildly ambitious. The reason you should saute the zucchini beforehand is that it holds its shape better. If you just add it raw (wrong! wrong!) it turns to mush and becomes one with the rice. There. The genie has spoken."

Awww-gust

I've never really liked August. It's too damn hot, summer is as tired as three-day-old macaroni salad, and all those things you planned hopefully to accomplish aren't done and are mocking you.

My August was supposed to start with invasive eye surgery - fun! However, due to a lurking sinus infection, it's been indefinitely postponed, complete with last minute phone calls, faxes to doctors' offices, canceling airline tickets and general frustration. Not to mention the accompanying sinus infection. Meanwhile, Henry woke up with pinkeye, or eyes. So we're in an upbeat mood this lovely August first.

It's going to be another scorcher here in the (high) desert, so we have to batten down the hatches to keep the house cool. So we begin the slow sticky slide into the school year.

Don't say school!! Henry begs. He has five more weeks of various camps left, so school feels like it's years away. Labor Day being late this year has caused parents to scramble to fill one more week. I've been handing Henry off to whoever drives up, to go to the Fair, the lakes, baseball games and campouts. All things I usually enjoy but don't feel the urge to do right now. Meanwhile, all the Facebook families of the town are having wonderful laugh-filled, joyous, adventuresome summers (and even have time to post their photos and updates).

Hmmm. Mood getting ugly. I think H and I are going to hit the movies and stay out of the heat.

Cool and fresh and salmony

I made a fantastic pasta salad last night, and if I can keep typing in this offensive heat, I'll post the recipe.

I'm not normally a pasta salad fan. They're either too bland, too oily, too weird or too crunchy (I don't like raw broccoli or any kind of bell peppers, which show up in most of them.) They used to be really popular - I recall one memorable patio party with the girls where everybody brought pasta salad. Luckily I was serving margaritas, so it really didn't matter. I don't know if they still are the go-to potluck dish, as I don't go out anymore. And if I do, it's not to a potluck.

So anyway, the one I made last night was stunning, especially as I concocted it with Ingredients On Hand. Here's my ingredient list. I don't have any quantities as it depends on your particular I.O.H.

1. Curly pasta - I like gemelli, but whatever you have O.H.
2. Strips of gravlax or smoked salmon (I just happened to have some leftover gravlax in the fridge. Odd, really.)
3. Cucumbers, diced
4. The itty-bitty fresh mozzarella balls you can buy at Costco, or other fresh mozz, diced.
5. Scallions, sliced, with some of the green part
6. Parsley (pretty much the only thing I grew in the garden this year. You could use dill.)
7. Olive oil
8. Lemon juice
9. Salt and pepper

Whisk the last three ingredients into a vinaigrette, then toss it all up, gently.

I ran out of capers (I know! A kitchen disaster!) which would have added a bit more piquancy, but maybe they would have been overkill.

Anyway, yum.

Top 10 Tues: summer supper edition

I really don't like heat. That's one of the reasons I moved to Oregon. I now realize that when I heard the term "high desert" I should have focused on the possible implications of the "desert" part.

Anyway, here in Bend we're having a heat wave (in my opinion) hitting over 90 on some days. Of course, it drops into the 40's at night, but I do have to go through that four hour stretch from work to darkness, and I don't like it. I know, the sound of a hundred tiny searing hot violins from friends in AZ, CA and TX. Well, why do you live there? It's stinking hot, for gawd's sake!

Sorry. Flareups from my inner hormonal furnace aren't helping. But that's another post.

So, what we eat in the summer. Recipes upon request. This list does not include the standard chicken/fish/shrimp on the grill that we have regularly. This is when I'm cool enough to cook and have the urge.

1. ratatouille with couscous
2. fish tacos
3. french potato salad
4. linguine alla vongole (clams to you)
5. greek salad - hold the bell peppers
6. gazpacho with shrimp: ditto
7. killer shrimp (stolen from the LA diner of the same name)
8. salad nicoise
9. the humble fresh tomato parsley parmesan omelet
10. grilled eggplant with soy sauce

I just realized that I've been making these same dishes for years. We don't eat beef, pork or lamb so it can be a challenge to come up with new menus. What do you cook when it's hot?

Screwy

Back in the wonderful state of Oregon, but not much else to say. I can't face recounting our endless travel saga, and vacation was vacationy: eating, drinking, reading, family and hanging around the pool. Very pleasant -- too bad we have to travel two days to experience it.

The X-man dropped by for a visit yesterday and was pressed into fixing stuff. It's so nice to have a man around the house and all that. This photo is from that effort.

And the day got screwier from there.

My arms are short, but long enough to pat myself on the back.

One of the nice things about having a blog is that you have a place to brag about yourself with impunity. I mean, if you can't strut a bit on your own blog, where can you?

So, it's just 4 pm now, and I've accomplished the following so far today:

1. Took 3 boys to the High Desert Museum while I worked
2. Wrote a radio commercial
3. Cleaned out and washed the fridge
4. Made gravlax
5. Made yeast bread (alright, I used the bread machine)
6. Entertained 3, then 4, now 2 boys without video
7. Got my winter tires changed (it's the Solstice: I think I'm safe)
8. Stopped at the library and paid my fines
9. Went grocery shopping
10. Did two loads of laundry

I think I'll relax now. Right after I mow the lawn.

No comments necessary: I think I praised myself enough here.

A single mother's day

1. Fed dogs, cats, fish and Henry
2. Did laundry
3. Epoxy'ed front gate screws
4. Raked one of 7 garden beds
5. Made Henry lunch
6. Felt sorry for self
7. Picked up dog poop
8. Made Henry sweep the decks and wash the porch chairs
9. Wet-vacced out the scummy pond
10. Patched liner again
11. Repaired the hoses
12. Filled and watched the waterfall
13. Realized it was still slowly leaking
14. Went inside, poured some wine and watched the Red Sox
15. Kissed my sweet boy goodnight