Reviews and recipes!

Well I finally remembered that I had a blog to talk to!

So a review on the recipes I posted last...the mushrooms were awesome! I have made them a couple more times and they are easy, quick and delicious. They would be perfect as an appetizer or a main course, if you did them with a large portabella.

The risotto...I don't know if I did it right. Truth is, I have never had a risotto I didn't make, so I am not sure what it's supposed to taste like, or what the texture is supposed to be. The risotto was tasty, but I don't think I'd spend the time again on it.

On to more recipes! I get asked for some of my recipes often, so I thought I would post them here for easy access for anyone interested!

The first is Mac & Cheese - with a warning...this is not health food. It's really, really good though!


1 lb large elbow macaroni, cooked according to package directions and drained
6 oz Velveeta Cheese
1/2 lb each of Fontina cheese, Asiago cheese, Gruyere cheese, Monterrey Jack cheese, all shredded
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
1/4 tsp ground mustard powder
1/3 cup milk

Pre-heat over to 350 degrees.

Cook the macaroni according to the package instructions and drain. Put the pot back on the heat, turned to low and add Velveeta to the pot. As it starts to melt, stir in milk, salt, pepper and mustard. Add the macaroni back in and continue to stir until the Velveeta is almost all melted.

Add all of the shredded cheeses and continue to stir until it is all melty and fabulous.

Pour this into a baking dish, 9x13, and cover with the Parmesan cheese. Cover with foil and bake for 35-45 minutes, until it's all golden and bubbly. Enjoy!

*for an easy cheat that is still tasty, but not quite as good, skip all the fancy cheeses and just throw in a big bag of pre-shredded cheese blend from the grocery store.

Paul's Favorite Jambalaya

I make this at least a couple times a month for Paul. It makes a huge batch and he eats it, 3 meals a day, until it's gone.

6 Tbl olive oil, divided
salt & pepper
1 lb smoked sausage, diced - I use a smoked turkey sausage
4 stalks celery, diced
1 red pepper, diced
2 green peppers, diced
1 onion, diced (this is how I trick Paul into eating vegetables...)
5 cloves garlic, minced fine
2-3 boneless, skinless chicken breasts cut into small cubes
1 large can diced tomatoes
1 quart chicken stock (I really like the Wolfgang Puck stock, others don't seem as flavorful)
2 cups white rice, uncooked
1 Tbl ground cumin
1 Tbl ground corriander
1 tsp cayenne pepper (more if you like it hot)

Heat 4 Tbl of the oilve oil in a large pot. Add the diced sausage and cook it until it's browned. Using a slotted spoon, remove the sausage, leaving all the oil.

Add all of the vegetables, season with salt & pepper. Cook over medium heat until the veggies are softened, about 25 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, remove all the veggies.

Put the rest of the oilve oil in the pot and get it really hot. Season the chicken with salt and pepper and throw it into the hot oil. Stir constantly until the chicken is cooked.

Add the can of diced tomatoes, in their juice, into the pot with the chicken. Add the stock and all the spices, stir well. Add back in the sausage and veggies and bring to a boil.

Stir in the uncooked rice and reduce to a simmer. Cover and let simmer. Stir every 5-7 minutes until all the liquid is absorbed and the rice is tender. Turn off the heat and let it sit for 10 minutes before serving. Eat for a week!

Dinner plans...

I went to Costco last week and bought a 2 lb jar of Sun-Dried Tomatoes. This was one of those typical Costco purchases...I don't have ANY need for that many sun-dried tomatoes, but it was $7.99 and I usually pay $4.99 for 6 oz. You do the math, I HAD to buy these.

Now I HAVE to use these! I googled and came up with two recipes that I actually have all the ingredients for, so I am going to give these a try for dinner tonight:

Mushrooms Stuffed With Sun-Dried Tomatoes

1/2 oz dried tomatoes in oil, oil drained
18 white mushrooms, stems pulled out and chopped fine and caps reserved
1/2 cup finely chopped shallots
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1/3 cup dry breadcrumbs
1 tablespoon water, broth, stock, wine, whatever liquid you think sounds good
1 large egg yolk, beaten lightly
1/4 cup fresh parsley, minced
1/2 teaspoon dried basil, crumbled
2 tablespoons freshly grated parmesan cheese

Preheat over to 400 degrees.

Lay mushroom caps, stems removed, face down on baking sheet either lightly sprayed with cooking spray or parchment paper. Bake them approximately 10 minutes, or until their liquid puddles underneath. Remove from the oven. Carefully pour off liquid that has gathered in the bottom of the pan, and then again, carefully, turn mushroom caps over so they are ready to be filled.

In a small skillet heat oil over moderate heat until hot but not smoking and cook chopped mushrooms stems, shallots and garlic, stirring until shallots are softened.

In a bowl stir together mushrooms mixture, bread crumbs, tomatoes, liquid of your choosing, yolk, parsley, basil, and salt and pepper to taste. Mound stuffing in reserved mushroom caps and arrange caps in a lightly greased shallow baking dish, or the same parchment-lined pan you’ve roasted your mushrooms in.

Sprinkle mushrooms with Parmesan and bake in middle of oven 15 minutes.

Makes 18 hors d’oeuvres.

Risotto with Sun-Dried Tomatoes

5 1/2 cups vegetable stock
1/3 cup oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes
1 onion, chopped
2 cups Arborio rice
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
salt and pepper to taste

In a large saucepan, bring the vegetable stock to a simmer. While the stock is heating, drain the sun-dried tomatoes and reserve the oil.

Chop the tomatoes coarsely and set them aside.

In a large frying pan, warm 2 tablespoons of oil from the tomatoes, add onion and saute until translucent; about 6 minutes.

Add rice to the frying pan and stir until white spots appear in the center of the grains; about 1 minute. Spoon a ladleful of vegetable stock into the frying pan and cook the mixture on low until all the stock is absorbed; about 2 minutes. Continue adding the stock, a ladleful at a time until the rice is tender and the mixture is creamy, approximately 20 to 25 minutes.

Add the Parmesan cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, 2 tablespoons of the remaining oil from the tomatoes, chopped basil, and salt and pepper. Mix well and serve.

Assuming I don't burn down the house, or lose interest the minute I see something shiny, I should have some opinions to share with you the next time I remember that I have a blog...

Can someone please explain this to me?

Twice now I have been driving and seen someone wearing these...for lack of a better term, "arm pants". I need to know what they are, but more importantly, WHY??

It's not the best picture, but the woman in it is wearing a short sleeved blouse and these things on her arms that cover her from where her shirt stops all the way down, and over, her fingers. They look well made, pretty fabric and even some lace was used.

It can't be because she is cold, it's 95 out today. If it's for protection from the sun, the glass windows in her car already provide UV protection. Is it a new fashion? I am perplexed.

Baking madness

A few weeks ago my mother-in-law asked me to make the cake for my nephew's birthday. He was turning 6 and had been deemed old enough to see Star Wars for the first time. My mother-in-law had the R2D2 cake pan she used for my husband when he was a kid, so she loaned it to me. That sparked a frenzy of cake making that has gotten a bit out of control. Here are the cakes from the last couple weeks.


The R2D2 cake that started it all...




















A "practice" cake I made for a friend's birthday
















Cake I made for my step-sister's going away BBQ before her deployment to Afghanistan
















And the most recent cake, for Colleen's birthday!

My vocabulary has devolved

This is from July, 2008.

I realized this morning that there are three phrases that I utter more than any others lately and all three are startling examples of how far my vocabulary has devolved. Since all three of them involve the puppy, and they will make much more sense in context, I will now share these phrases with you in the "open letter to the puppy" format. The first is "Go Potty".

This is said in a very high pitched voice, with much excitement. Think jr. high cheerleader. "Go potty, go potty, rah rah rah!" I hate myself every time I say this.

It's 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning. I am in pajamas with my hair all messed up. I am probably barefoot and have to pee myself because your completely psychotic 'let me out of the crate' dance scared me into tending to your needs before mine. I really can't afford to have to re-break your leg, so I rush to your crate and let you out, take the cone off of you and leash you up. Out we go to the front yard. You know what I want you to do. You know you need to do it, you've been in the crate for 8 hours. But you also know that as soon as you DO pee that we are going back in the house. So you draw it out, you little fucker. Quit smelling the leaves. Quit trying to eat my jasmine shrubs. Quit picking up those freaky looking things that the magnolia tree drops. Don't look at the house, cars, me. JUST PEE. I haven't had coffee. I have no bra on and I am hoping to goodness that the neighbors don't come outside and see me, half awake and looking like hell repeating my early morning mantra of "Go potty. GO Potty. GO POTTY DAMN IT!"

A side note on the possibility that you are going to re-break your leg - if it happens again you won't be going to the nice 24 hour animal emergency center with MRI machines and orthopedic surgeons. You're going down the street to Santos' Oil Change, Tire Center and Pet Care. Seriously, think about that before you act all stupid.

The next phrase that I resent having to say is "Eat your crunchies!" Again, high pitched, teenage girl-like.

You've now wasted 20 minutes eating leaves and fucking around in the front yard. My feet are wet, and itchy thank to my grass allergy, I am still not fully awake and I need to hurry up and take a shower so I can go to my thankless job to pay for all your vet bills and food. But I can't starve you, so now we need to go through the ritual of you actually eating the food I have provided. I start in early with my "Eat your crunchies!!" hoping that if I get excited enough about them, then you will too, and you'll just eat them. I really don't need you to pick one up and fling it across the room, then chase it, pounce on it (careful with that leg pup, Santos is ready for you) and fling it again. Just eat it. Please. I know you like it. You make sure to scarf up a whole bowl of it in 3 seconds when people are over. Are you trying to make them think that I don't feed you? Just sit down in front of the bowl, put your face in the bowl and for the love of all that is good EAT YOUR CRUNCHIES!!

This last one is a recent addition to the child-like vocabulary you've reduced me to. I am embarrassed to even talk about it, but since you can't stop I will have to add "put your junk away" to the list.

I have never had a male puppy before. Or a male human child. I am aware that you have a penis. Apparently I knew this before you did because the last few days you seem mesmerized by it. You can't keep it in and you do disturbing things to it when it's out. I will give you credit for your flexibility and creativity. Bravo puppy, bravo. But do you have to run around the living room with your junk flopping around? And if that IS necessary, is it also necessary that every 20 seconds you stop and re-discover it? Each time you seem surprised that it's there. I think sometimes you think it's attacking you because you appear to be trying to gnaw it off of yourself. I don't think you want to do that. And I don't know what Santos will do if you do gnaw through a portion of it. Here's a good idea, "put your junk away". I am not going to put it away for you and it can't stay out. Doesn't it get dirt all over it when you are romping around with it just hanging? It's part of nature, I know, but I don't let any of the other males in the household run around with their junk out, so please, for all of us, "put your junk away". I know I don't say this one with the same high-pitched excitement that I do the others. I figure at this point I shouldn't excite you...any more than you already seem to be.

So please, puppy, go potty when I ask, eat your crunchies and for the love of God, put your junk away.

Things that only happen to me...

This happened in January of 2008. I think this was the beginning of the end for me at that job. I knew that I couldn't do many more of these meetings!

So my boss' boss decided that I should be the one to take over his Mental Health grant billing. I will wait for the irony induced laughter to stop. Okay good. Part of this promotion (???) is that I have to go to the meetings that the County of Orange puts on. Wow, that sounds so fun.

So yesterday was my first meeting. It was a "state of the union" if you will, and it involved all of the Health Care Agency employees, along with all of us providers. It was in downtown Santa Ana which always makes for an interesting meeting. After threading my way through one way streets, illegals behind the wheel and bums lying in pools of their own urine I got to pay $1.00 per half hour to park about three blocks away from this meeting. This is really starting off well…

Now I am not sure if it is a requirement that you have to be crazy in order to be a mental health provider, but from the looks of the crowd it seems to be encouraged.

Here is the bummer…I see people that I am loosely acquainted with. Paul used to work for the county and we recently attended the wedding of a county employee where I watched half of the Health Care Agency get drunk and take pictures of their asses. Guess who is at this meeting and wants to sit together? Yup, the ass photographers!

I manage to mumble something about sitting with other people from my agency and slink off to a dark corner of the room hoping for anonymity. I purposely find a seat that is far from the end of an aisle, I don't want to get stepped on every time some jackhole arrives, and also a reasonable distance from the door, so that I am not tempted to grab my purse and run for the hills…as much.

I also have evil plans (the only kind of plans to have) to ignore this whole meeting and text all y'all for entertainment. So I put my phone on vibrate, I am respectful if nothing else, and am horrified to see that I DO NOT GET A SIGNAL IN THIS GOD-FORSAKEN HOLE. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Okay, shake it off, I can survive this. I have a notepad (that is where this little gem came from) and I have my personal space. Oh shit. I HAD my personal space. There are about 65% of the seats still open and this FAT ASS BEAST finds it necessary to sit right next to me. Now let me explain something here. This is stadium seating, think movie theater, with armrests and limited seat size. She sits RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Really? There isn't any other acceptable seat in the house? Goody.

Sorry, I had to pick up the notepad, my pen and my meeting agenda, Big Bertha just sat down and bumped into me/unfolded her girth upon me and caused everything to go cascading to the floor. This just keeps getting better and better.

Oh God, no. Bertha likes to talk out loud. I have the sinking feeling that she is hoping that I will start a conversation with her. Not gonna happen. Ever. So I just sit and listen to her inane ramblings.

"Oh, there are handouts?"
"It's cold in here!"
"Now I am hot."
"Where is my pen, oh no, did I forget a pen?"
"I wonder if they are going to keep us the whole 2 hours"

Thanks for the reminder that I am stuck, literally - thanks to you sitting on me - for two fucking hours. Someone shoot me. We haven't even started the meeting yet and I am praying for death. I love Mondays.

I think she is spreading. Since I can't text anyone and I can't get out of my seat I figure I might as well listen to what the speaker has to say. That is when I realize that she is actually getting larger as she sits there. She is pressing more and more of her against me. I start a mental inventory of all the things I have done recently to add up to this karmic Fuck You that I seem to be receiving.

From what I have gathered so far, this isn't going to be a positive meeting. The state has no money, so the county has no money so they are going to cut our programs in half. That sounds promising for my job security. I really don't want to listen to two hours of depressing stuff. I drink on a regular basis to block out this kind if shit. I wonder if there are cocktails in that vending machine I saw on the way in…

Funny thing about meetings, I am reminded that I have ADD. Like a lot. I am literally going insane as I sit here. I can't sit still, I can't really move because a substantial portion of me is UNDER the fat ass next to me and I can't self medicate. Dying…

I love how when the news is bad the speaker resorts to clichés.

"We all knew we were building the plane as we were flying it"

WTF does that even mean?

As I scratch my head and think about flying half-built planes I see the error of my ways. It appears that the corner of the room that I found so inviting is actually a whore and will let anyone into her seats. Maybe it is just the fact that I am here that makes everyone else want to be? I will throw myself that bone.

Now it was a cold day, so I had worn my wool pea coat in to the meeting and when I removed it, I placed it on the seat next to me. I don't want to put it on the floor and it is too hot to wear it. So this lame ass guy that arrives 45 minutes late decides that he has to have the empty seat next to me that contains my coat.

Rather than ask if the seat is taken, or even assume it's not and ask me to move my coat he just says "Let me sit there." Excuse me? Let you what? Fuck you. At least that is what I said in my head. What came out was "I am sorry there isn't anywhere else for me to put my coat. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable over there" as I point to the half of the room that is EMPTY.

Perhaps I was wrong. He just grabbed my coat and set it on me. WTF?? I WANT to be under 5 lbs of wool when I am sandwiched between these two mouth breathers.

Now is a good time to bring up armrest etiquette. I was here first, they are mine. Enough said. DO NOT think that you are going to squeeze in next to me and take over my armrests, I will damage you. I will hurl an elbow into your ribs so hard you won't be able to breathe for a week. Come on, I dare you. I double dare you. I double dog dare you! I am ready to throw down.

That is the last thing I remember. The next thing I knew I was in my car, half an hour before the meeting was scheduled to end. I don't know what happened, but I have a feeling that I may have cracked someone's rib during my exit… I wonder if I am going to be asked to attend the next one.

The idiots I encountered today

This is from a rather trying day, back in July of 2007. It's amazing I didn't go to jail that day...

I crossed paths with a few exceptional idiots today, and I felt the need to share the experiences with all y'all.

The first two idiots, we'll call them Gas Station Assholes, I saw this morning. I had to get gas on my way to work, so I stopped at the neighborhood gas station. Apparently Tuesday morning is a popular time to get gas because the gas station was a clusterfuck. I was thinking about passing it and seeing how far I could get on my 1/2 gallon I had left when someone pulled out, leaving me the perfect opening. Hmmmm...maybe this isn't going to be so bad after all. So I get out, swipe my card and start pumping gas. Now comes the best part of getting gas, people watching!

I am watching my neighbors and fellow procrastinators that were too tired/drunk/lazy to get gas last night when I notice a very nice BMW 550i pull up on the other side of the pump I'm on. It had 4 men in it. They were all kind of fat (this becomes important later) Two of them get out, the driver and a backseat passenger. They go inside. They are inside the whole time I am filling up. Now I am thinking to myself, "wow, that is a really slow cashier and that sucks for all the poor people lined up to get gas, waiting for a pump to open up."

Right about then my pump is done and the two guys from the BMW come out loaded down with chips, soda, candy, etc... (you get the picture) They get in the car and DRIVE AWAY. They don't get gas. At all. They just sit their fat asses down in the car and leave. The parked at a pump to go get junk food. Now maybe you're thinking that there aren't any spots at the gas station. There are, they are simply on the far side of the lot, so you're looking at walking MAYBE an additional 200 feet.

THESE LAZY MOTHERFUCKERS TOOK UP A GAS PUMP FOR OVER 5 MINUTES BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T WANT TO WALK 200 EXTRA FEET!!! AND TRUST ME, THEY COULD HAVE USED THE WALK!

The next idiot I had to deal with today we'll refer to as Walmart Dipshit. I had to go get ammo to go to the range tonight. So I go to Walmart - they have the best prices on small quantities. I grab a couple of things I need then head over to sporting goods, where they sell ammo.

I hate Walmart, I should tell you that now, because there is NEVER an "associate" in sporting goods. So I set my stuff down on the counter and wander off looking for an employee to help me. I am about to give up and go find a phone somewhere and figure out how to page an employee when a guy in a blue shirt walks up. I ask him if he works in sporting goods (if not, he is useless to me, he won't have the magical key that opens the ammo case) and he says, "Yes I do, don't you feel lucky?" EXCUSE ME? I was so surprised by this that I didn't have time to filter myself so I actually muttered "You've got to be kidding me" to which Walmart Dipshit replied, "Nope, it's your lucky day, you get to interact with me!" I couldn't hold the laughter in. And that just egged him on more.

Rather than have a conversation with him, I just say "I need one box each of .38, .357 and 9mm 50 count please". I guess he couldn't just get those out and sell them to me because he asked me if I didn't want to get some paintballs or airsoft pellets instead. "No, thank you, I would like real bullets for my real guns." That must have been some secret code for please talk to me some more, because this moron subjected me to 5 minutes of how great a shot he is. I DON'T CARE. REALLY. I DON'T. I hand him my card and ask him to please make it debit card, hoping he'd get the hint to hurry the fuck up.

Then he asks if I want the "value packs". No thanks, the 50 quantity that I specified earlier is still fine. That prompted him to tell me that I was making a mistake by not buying more. Enter Walmart Dipshit 2, they come in pairs. He starts in with, "Where you shooting?" Now I know that anytime you but ammo they are supposed to ask you where you are going shooting, so I tell them the truth, "I am going to the range this evening". Dipshit 2 tells me that I don't want the ammo I am buying and actually starts to try and sell me their cheap shitty stuff that jammed my 9mm up BAD last time. The time has come to get rude. "I don't want that ammo, it is kind of dirty and gunks up the gas chamber on my 9mm. Please just sell me what I asked for. I don't care what you think, you don't know what I'm shooting and I don't care how great a shot your associate is, just sell me the damn ammo, PLEASE" That did the trick, I got out of there in about 22 seconds. I almost felt bad, but not really.

Now at this point I realize I shouldn't be in public anymore, I should go home and have a drink. Or two... But I still have one more stop, Trader Joe's.

So I run in, grab what I need and get in line. The lines are all really long so as I am standing there I look around at everything else they have. About 5 feet away from me is a display for cat litter, which was great, because I totally forgot that I needed to change the litter box tonight. Sweet, I take three steps away from my cart (I left it in line because there is NO WAY that the line will move in the 3 seconds I am gone) when I meet Idiot 4. I call her "Batty" because she is an old bat. She walks right up, pushes my cart out of her way and takes my spot in line. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME! I wrestled with the idea of just beaning the old bat with a 10 lb bag of kitty litter, but I realized that I really didn't want to end the day with an assault charge. So I retrieved my cart, put my litter in it and got back in line, behind Batty. Right about that time another cashier opened up and came right up to me and invited me over to his check stand. Batty didn't look too happy about being passed up for the new lane and was about to say something when I started laughing. It was all too much and I gave in to the hysterical laughter. I am sure the nice people at Trader Joe's think I am insane...I am starting to wonder about that, too!

So now I am home, armed and ready to go shooting...If only I could get pictures of all of today’s idiots and make my own targets...

What was I thinking?

This was my first posted rambling, from October of 2006. Paul still brings this up from time to time.

My latest display of stupidity is so good that Paul wants to tell everyone about it...I figure if I can beat him to that then it won't be so fun for him and he'll stop.

Let me preface this by telling you that on Monday I went to the dermatologist for a follow up appointment for dry skin on my foot. I thought I was getting a new lotion or something...she had different ideas. After looking at my foot and asking a few questions the doctor left the room and came back with a set of surgical tools and told me that she was just going to do a small biopsy to see what was really going on. Goodie.

A "small" biopsy meant her using a fucking hole punk and taking a piece of my foot about a quarter inch wide and a quarter inch DEEP INTO THE SIDE/SOLE OF MY DELICATE LITTLE FOOT. A "small" biopsy also required STITCHES to close it up so that I didn't bleed out from this assault to my body. Sweet.

As I left I asked her what to do about the pain, which I was anticipating would be significant. She smiled and said Tylenol would take care of it. Turns out that was nothing less than bullshit.

So, with my mad pharmacy skills, I put together a concoction of drugs and herbs that acted a lot like vicodin for pain relief and apparently took what little common sense I had with it.

I told you that story to tell you this one. I was at home today, wasted on my home made vicodin when someone knocked on my door. I open the door to a young woman selling magazines. I will wait for you to stop laughing at what you think comes next...it does.

After hearing her story about growing up in a rough neighborhood and battling her own drug addiction (anyone see Office Space?? Wanna buy a subscription to Vibe??) she told me about the program that is allowing her to turn it all around, with the help of nice people like me. NICE PEOPLE LIKE ME ARE ALL SHE HAS YOU GUYS. Wow. She was good. So I bought a couple of magazines.

That wouldn't be so bad, except a couple of magazines ended up costing $280. Yes, I typed two hundred and eighty dollars. I was loaded, remember that, please.

Enter Paul, home from work and going through the receipts for my purchases (he does this every day) As I tried to explain the magazines, they were both for him by the way, he just laughed his ass off, took away my drugs and told me I am not allowed to answer the door ever again.

So my plea to you is this...when he starts to tell you this story, please tell him you don't find it funny. Even though I am sure you do...

Tales from the child formerly known as Motor Mouth!

When I was a kid, my dad called me Motor Mouth because I never shut up. Nothing has changed, except now I can subject more folks to my ramblings. You've been warned. Here you will find all of the random things that pass through my mind, pictures of projects that I am compelled to start but rarely finish, and anything else I want to share with someone besides the voices in my head.

I will be posting a few old blog entries from that "gateway to harder blogs" - myspace. Enjoy!

**added note - as I was playing with formatting for this first entry I found that there is a font choice called Trebuchet. I am totally down with a font named after a medieval catapult.