Coming along nicely...

I recently wrote about my preparations for my Germany/Austria trip and the things I wanted to accomplish before leaving. With less than three weeks to go, here's how I'm doing with my list.

Goal 1: Find the perfect bag.

I found one that's pretty nearly perfect. The Rick Steves Civita bag is a backpack made of soft, light, tough fabric and it's super roomy. I took it to Idlewild a couple of times and I was impressed. Plus it's got tons of pockets for staying super organized. I consider this goal accomplished.

Goal 2: Learn a bit of German so that I have a base to build upon when we get there.

Epic fail. The only German I know is the one swear word I picked up from watching Run Lola, Run and the words to a beer drinking song my friend from work sent me. Since I have zero plans to be frustrated on my trip or to consume the troughs of beer they serve at Oktoberfest, I doubt I'll need either.

You know what I'm talking about.

Goal 3: Learn how to better use my Nikon.

I'm reading my Nikon Guide and making progress, but I'd like to do better here. Kristen, are you giving any classes in the next two weeks?

Goal 4: Establish a packing plan that Rick Steves would, if not be proud of, at least not sneer at.

I'm proud to report through the judicious use of packing cubes and the vicious slashing of my packing list, I might just possibly carry-on my luggage for 8 days in Europe. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be able to do that. We'll see...

Four years old.

Happy birthday to my sweet little pumpkin.

Photo credit: Kristen Gibson

Fair warning.

Today my sweet little niece is starting Pre-K. I may have a breakdown.

Hola! Vamanos! Me estoy volviendo loco.

This really is an outrageous level of enthusiasm.

I'm currently watching episodes of Dora the Explorer in order to get ideas for a treasure hunt I'm creating for Julia's birthday party. Things I have gleaned thus far:

1. Dora really does scream every single word she says. If she were ever in serious danger, I doubt she could communicate her peril to anyone because her alarm would just sound like her regular voice.

2. Dora encourages her young viewers to become screamers themselves. They have to yell things like "Map!" and "Backpack!" at the screen constantly. Frankly, it's exhausting.

3. Swiper the fox is easily deterred from his kleptomanic ways. He simply stops when he is told to. Hardly a worthy opponent.

4. Three episodes in a row of this is my limit. It does not have the charm of Fraggle Rock.

It's hard to be menacing when you're dressed like a Wonder Twin.

So tonight I finally sat down to watch a DVD Brian lent me, The Warriors. Brian loves this movie and has since he was a kid. And it is a movie with a huge cult following. However, Melis would describe this film by using word "crap" as every possible part of speech. I hesitate to comment on something that has been the lynchpin of disagreement in their marriage, but this cannot be ignored.

I actually really like the premise. This group of guys has to get from the Bronx to Coney Island (and that is a looong way, babies) with every gang in the city gunning for them. Good premise, lots of potential. The execution, though? Oh no. This film was written, directed, and most importantly costumed by someone who has absolutely no idea what the term "street gang" means.

The film opens with footage of various "gangs" making their way to the Bronx for a gang meeting. I sensed something was amiss when I saw the guys in the hot pink sequined vests, but my suspicions were confirmed by the appearance of a gang of mimes in white pancake make-up, suspenders, and top hats.

Take a moment and let that sink in.

The only thing missing were the little robot silhouettes at the bottom of the screen. Three minutes into the film and the director had already lost me.

But then! We see the gang conference, where approximately 179 gangs of 9 guys each have converged in the Bronx for a smorgasbord of costume delight. We have the gang in jaunty French striped boatneck shirts, the gang in skin-tight purple unitards with matching knit caps, and the gang who goes shirtless and wears porkpie hats. And let us not forget "the most powerful gang in the city." To flaunt their authority they choose to attire themselves in... flowing silk robes.

I have news for you, gentleman. The Bloods are going to kill you all.

Look, I am sympathetic to the poor woman who had to come up with dozens of individual types of gang attire for this scene, but the moment she gave me the face-painted dudes in the baseball uniforms and the guys in the sheepskin vests, I entered the realm of the ridiculous and there was no clawing my way back.

People, this is the type of thing I am dealing with:

You know you look ridiculous, right?

Supremes de Volaille aux Champignons

Well, this one was rough. To be honest, when I started my scheme to cook one meat meal per month in 2011, I thought to myself, "I'll probably never make it to chicken." Chicken is, to me, the most terrifying of all the raw meats. It looks revolting and it's squishy and disgusting. Just picking up the package to put it into my cart was a saga. And that was only the beginning...

Thus far, every meat meal I've done was begun with trepidation and ended with me admitting that it wasn't all that terrifying after all. Not so with the chicken breasts, or "supremes" as the French call them. This was every bit as horrifying as I feared it would be and more. The worst part is that I have three chicken breasts left in my fridge and I just don't think I have the strength to try another meal with them.

I got this recipe from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I was drawn to it because of a scene in Julie and Julia where Julie makes the dish. It just looked so mouthwatering. It's the scene where she learns, "Don't crowd the mushrooms. Otherwise they won't brown."


This is a Julia recipe, so of course we start with lots of butter.


I couldn't bear to photograph the raw chicken. Just know I was squealing in horror and disgust as I maneuvered them into the skillet. I briefly considered throwing away the tongs I was using, but I only just got them and they're really nice. But here's a shot of the beautiful sliced mushrooms in bubbling butter.


Then I added in heavy cream and Madeira wine, which I got carded when purchasing (yay!)


After the sauce thickened, I popped the cooked supremes back into the sauce. Julia's instructions said to spoon the sauce over them, but in the movie Julie nestled them into the sauce and it looked delish.


And here's the final product. I was so stressed from dealing with raw chicken that I didn't even make a vegetable.

It was really delicious, but I don't know if I can make it again for a few years. That chicken really put me through it. I'm gonna need some time to recover.

It's the little things, people.

Today I was sitting at work, tired and fried, and then I suddenly remembered I had a smuggled piece of banana bread from Sarah's wedding in my camera bag, and I couldn't wait to get home. Brightened my outlook right up.

Sometimes that's all it takes.

In praise of the unmade bed.

I read lots of articles about organization. I love organization. If I had to the chance to go out to dinner or stay home and organize a closet, I’d really have to think about that choice. So it bothers me that the first thing so many organizers tell you to do is make your bed every morning.

What? Make my bed?

I never make my bed and I am the most organized person I know. Many aspects of my life could easily be made into a visual representation of data because I organize my life by Excel spreadsheet.

So I must disagree that bedmaking is the first step to an organized lifestyle. It’s not even that it’s a waste of time, because really it’s not that much time you waste. It’s that a made bed makes a room look sterile and uninviting. An unmade bed, with its fluffy pillows askew and its soft blankets heaped up like clouds, says to you, “Come closer. I am terribly snuggly. Wouldn’t a nap be a good idea right now?”

Yes. Yes, a nap would be a good idea right now. A nap is rarely a bad idea. If you’re driving a car or watching a Broadway performance, only then a nap is a bad idea. And frankly, I’ve seen many people in theaters disagree with me on that second one. Which is all to say, embrace the unmade bed! Life should be as simple and napful as possible.

Best engagement photo ever

Obviously.

Well, this is terrifying.

A recent tweet from Dave Ramsey:

If the US Gov was a family, they would be making $58,000 a year, they spend $75,000 a year, and are $327,000 in credit card debt. They are currently proposing BIG spending cuts to reduce their spending to $72,000 a year. These are the actual proportions of the federal budget and debt, reduced to a level that we can understand.

I really do not want to witness the collapse of the world's economy. I hope it happens way after I die.

Meine Gute, y'all.

Kristen, Alexa, Maggie, and I went to see The Help tonight. I loved the book and the movie was a very good adaptation of it. The film was written and directed by the best friend of the novel's author, and he grew up with her in Mississippi, so it feels very true to the book's spirit. Viola Davis was amazing as always, but I think Octavia Spencer stole the show as Minnie. I'd love to see her get an Oscar nomination. (And the little girls who played Mae Mobley broke my heart clean in two.)

But! More entertainment awaited us when the credits rolled. A large group of young women sitting in the row behind us (and whom I'd had to shush during the film) erupted into thunderous applause as the movie ended, leaping to their feet and seemingly overtaken with emotion. Then at least one of them broke down into sobs as she was comforted by her companions. I mean, this woman was distraught. I immediately felt awkward. I don't do well when people cry in my presence. I do not, like Truvy, cry with them. I freeze like a deer in headlights and wait for someone to come to my rescue.

I leaned over to Lex and hissed, "Are the people behind us weeping?" She assured me they were. I assured her that I felt extremely uncomfortable. I would have exited the theater immediately, but I really like to stay for the credits.

Imagine my surprise, nay, my shock, to discover that these women were German. German! I don't know... call me xenophobic, but between the ovation and the blubbering, I guess I wasn't prepared for Germans to exhibit such a display of emotions. Unless said emotions are, like, yelling at people in harsh voices. (I am such a citizen of the world.) I felt frozen in my seat, afraid that if I leaned over to speak to Lex or Kris it would look like I was gossiping about the sobbing Germans, which I would absolutely be doing, but I still didn't want to be caught doing it. So instead I texted Alexa, "The weeping Germans are FREAKING me out!" And she texted back, "Trust!" which I didn't understand at all but she assures me is current UPJ slang, which made me feel both xenophobic and old.

So, that was my night.

And so it begins. Again.

The 2011 Mehall Cousin Fantasy Football League now has a drafting order. Last night Maggie pulled slips of paper to determine drafting positions and for the first time in four years I will not be drafting on the elbow. I'm smack in the middle, something my sisters tell me is a good thing, so I have chosen to believe them.


Kristen held the basket of names while Maggie drew, so everything was on the up and up.


Jen was extremely pleased with her spot in fourth position.


And here, if you can decipher through the bluriness of the photo and Melis' handwritin' of a serial killer, is the final drafting order.

Off to the mock draft site to practice...

So close!

I'm here to report that we are so close to having the poster and its sound effects safely off the main page so James can return without fear. Just one more post will do it! Stay tuned!

"Little more than half a day's journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance."

And we're off! For the next nine days I will be visiting my dear aunt and uncle and cousin, and indulging in indolence and delight and sunning and swimming. Jen is driving. Maggie is sleeping. Jules has her bubble gum, swim floaties, and Dora the Explorer doll and she is all set to go.

I write to you from the PA Turnpike while listening to a song with the lyrics, "Take a right at my parents' house on 869, goin' straight on to Bedford till you start seeing signs for the Pennsylvania Turnpike, then you'll know what to do. And once you're out on the highway it's all up to you."

Indeed.

A special request

James informs me that he's annoyed he has to hear the flame noises from the interactive Hunger Games poster I wrote about last week. He wants me to post more so that the Hunger Games post moves past the main page and he doesn't have to listen to it anymore.

So here you go, James. I'm working on it.

It's appalling the way I indulge you.

Tilapia redux, this time with pics

The Tilapia I made last weekend was so delicious, I couldn't get it out of my head. So I made it again and this time I used a non-finicky photo card.


The recipe is super easy. First you mix up some flour, black pepper, and kosher salt. People, are you using kosher salt? Because it will change your life. It's flaky and a little crunchy and quite ten times better than regular salt.


Brown up some butter (yum city) but don't let it get too brown. This is a quick and easy dish, but it's one of those ones that you have to pay attention to or it can get away from you.


Before I started browning my butter, I chopped up some fresh zucchini and yellow squash and threw it in a pan with a little butter and kosher salt. Soon the kitchen was smelling amazing, and I just love the fresh, bright colors.


You pat your fish dry, sprinkle one side with a little salt, and dredge it in your flour mixture. Easy as anything, even for someone like me who is terrified of actually touching raw fish, despite the fact that I love sushi.


Pop it in the butter and cook one side on low for two minutes. When you flip them over to cook the other side (two more minutes), you add the lemon juice. That's when the butter gets all bubbly and delicious and the two form and wonderful lemon-butter sauce for the fish.

I didn't have any fresh lemons on hand tonight, so I just used lemon juice from a bottle and the dish didn't suffer one bit.


The recipe also said to sprinkle it with fresh parsley before serving but I was too lazy to do that. And too eager to dig in. Delicious!

Now I'd like to try my hand at making other fish dishes, so recommendations for good recipes using mild-flavored fish would be much appreciated.