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Since I have too much free time, I’ve decided to delve into some of the more pervasive commercials of this time. Issue one- the Glade lady. She started out innocently enough- throwing a gathering for a few girlfriends, it’s during the holidays, she has a gorgeous house, the perfect LBD, it’s the picture of early 90’s Chris Columbus perfection. But there’s something missing…maybe the dog rolled in mess outside and tracked it in. Maybe hubby is slacking on garbage duty, and they had flounder for last night’s dinner. Or maybe she’s a real estate stager, and is all out of cookie spray. Whatever. Enter Glade candles. But what lurks beneath the slightly quirky surface of our domestic doyenne is far more sinister than a love of over the fence gossip.

She lights the candle. The doorbell rings. This candle isn’t Diptyque! Hell, it isn’t even one of those White Barn Candle Co. candles from B&BW. It’s Glade…from the cleaning supplies aisle in Wall Banger’s. Its closest neighbors are those 98 cent jelly cones and Toilet Duck. This will not do, even though the scent makes everyone want pie. So, off goes the label, into the trash (or so we thought.) Door is answered, greetings all around, “is that pie?” No! It’s a candle…from France. What’s fancier than candles from France? Nothing, and don’t you forget it. Oh you mean Glahday?? Hens cackle, candle is described, candle lady finally admits that yes, the candle is Glade, end scene.

So. What can we tell about our heroine from this ad? And from all subsequent ads? That she’s got caviar taste and a catfish budget? That perhaps there is little to suburban fulfillment beyond having all the right things? Yeah, that’s what Glade wants you to think. What I think is that she’s got sociopathic tendencies and is a compulsive habitual liar. Why else would she lie about being at the spa while soaking in her own tub? Or lie about cleaning all day after a few spritzes of a new Febreze-like product? Because deep down, she is the new girl in 7^th grade, with a bad perm and buck teeth, and all the wrong clothes. And the only thing in this world that will keep the queen bees of this world off the gawky outsiders is flashing the “right” item before they hit. Thank you, Glade. Ok, so it’s not as serious as all that. Sometimes, a candle is just a candle. Unless it’s from France Please join me next week, when we discuss the deeper meaning of improv in a drive-in.

I’ve been at my mom and dad’s since Saturday, and wound up staying until Tuesday afternoon. It was an adventure in crap eating I love my parents, but they no longer cook, preferring to eat nearly all their meals from anywhere that accepts drive thru or call in orders. Fantastic. Day 2 was innocent enough- We stopped at Taco Bell on the way down for brunch, and I got 2 bean burritos and one of those little bags of chips and nacho cheese. Not great, but I was craving a bean burrito. When we made it to my parents’ house two hours later, we decided that dinner would be from the new Taco Bueno (byoo-no, as my mom stubbornly calls it, despite muy mucho corrections.) It was a party burrito (beans and cheese) and a Mucho Nacho with no meat or sour cream. I was looking forward to those, because the picture showed them with black olives and tomatoes (yummy!) Nope. Just chips, beans and cheese. Clearly, day two was my own personal colon blow.

Day 3- Another Taco Bell brunch for me (the bean burritos and nachos.) Dinner was a baked potato with cheese, butter and green onions. I am not a real big fan of that particular onion (especially when so roughly cut), so they were picked off. Day 3 was not a particularly filling day, especially since we moved furniture for most of it. My most of me is still sore from that.

Day 4- Started innocently enough. My mom loves salads from Spirits (Alexandria, La, if you’re ever in the area- I used to be a fan of their meatball hero and curly fries. Their salads are awesome, too, and all dressings are made fresh daily.) They have a “half and half” salad, that consists of a regular green salad and some pasta salad. I’m not a fan of pasta salad, so I got the half and half with extra spinach. This is where I slipped up; I was feeling a little blah, perhaps from all the work from the previous day, perhaps because of all the burritos. I decided I needed something more than just salad. I came thisclose to getting my beloved meatball hero, but decided to get grilled shrimp on my salad. Yup, it only too 4 days for me to go “hmmm, I want something meaty!” Granted, shrimp are not exactly “meaty,” but still. So, I slipped. It was a huge salad, seafood aside, and I was full for the majority of the day. When 8 p.m. rolled around, I finally asked what was for dinner. My mom decided pizza would be good, and this is where things got a little “ugh” inducing. I go to the bathroom (hello, or rather, goodbye, burritos!), and the next thing I know, my mom is telling me “We ordered a Supreme and a Meat Lover’s pizza. We would have gotten a cheese or Veggie pizza, but you can just pick off the meat.” Yeah. Thanks. So, I had a few pieces of basically wet dough with sauce and cheese, and a pile of meat on my plate. And that was day 4.

Day 5- Leaving meat land at last! Breakfast was picked over, leftover pizza and water. I am drinking a lot of water lately, which is good, b/c normally, I’m all about the DDP. I’m so down with it, I might just bleed DDP. Awesome. Dinner was some fries from Wendy’s and a side salad with Italian dressing (and I almost had some extra cherry tomatoes for a snack, but I was pretty zonked out after dinner.)

Day 6- Started well enough. A bowl of blueberries and a glass of choco Silk. I had a killer headache, so after breakfast, I laid on my new couch (yay!!!!) and watched about half of “The Big Lebowski.” When I woke, it was 3 p.m., and my head was still being a pain in my face. So, a bowl of shredded wheat and cow’s milk, followed by three aspirin, some chow mein noodles and a large glass of water. I pretty much just nursed my poor head today and slept a lot. Dinner was cheese and black olive pizza (since I was so not in the mood to cook.) And yes, I realize I eat a lot of crap foods myself. And right now, I have a giant glass of ice water. I like it when I am craving water (which is odd, b/c I’m drinking plenty of it anyway). But craving it makes me feel like my cravings are leading to something productive. Maybe I’m crazy though.

So, I realize that to keep this up for the next however many days, I need to shape up. Part of my problem is that I am so notoriously picky. I am really a nightmare for anyone who would want to cook for me, because my list of “foods I like” is about 1/4 the size of the “foods I hate” list. I am also one to want to eat the same thing everyday for a week (see days 2-3) just to avoid making a choice or trying something new. I feel better when I have a real breakfast, so now that I’m back home (where the groceries live!), I’ll be able to just go and grab a bowl of cereal, oatmeal, or make some eggs and toast. Another challenge for myself is seeing past salads. Yes, they are tasty, quick and good for you (if done right), but they are also boring after a while, and I detest washing lettuce.

I have decided to try to make eggplant parm later tonight (HOPEFULLY!) And maybe some hummus for lunch. I’m trying to be proactive about this whole thing, and the only way for me to do that is to keep up the willingness to try new things. I just hope they both turn out better than that funky, squishy fake chicken. Yecch.

For our last night of meat for a month, we decided to go out for dinner. We’d planned to go to The Pickle Barrel, a sandwich shop/deli with the best chicken sandwich I’ve ever had (if you’re ever in Monroe, La, go by and get the Chicken with No Name. It’s good.) They close at 8, and it was 8:05. Curses. So, we cruised through town for a few minutes, then Brian decided to go to China Cafe (also highly recommended- the food comes quick, it’s always fresh, and the lady that runs the place, Rachel, is so friendly and chatty, and always makes sure you like your meal.) I decided to get the sweet and sour chicken, Brian had the house lo mein. And we always get the crab rangoon It’s really sweet and tasty. And this is silly, but the Sprite was particularly crisp, cool and refreshing last night, as well. I could go for another right now.

I noticed in the vegetable section of the menu that they serve sauteed broccoli and water chestnuts. I love both of those, so I asked what they were sauteed in. Rachel told me “they come in brown sauce,” then we had a chat about vegetarianism. She said they could put tofu in with the dish, but I smiled and declined. They use silken tofu, and it’s just too squishy for me. Carrots would be good in it though I bet. I just hope the brown sauce is not oyster sauce. She also said that they have the only vegetarian menu in town (in Chinese restaurants, anyway), so I look forward to trying that dish.

I’ve been recipe browsing lately, and I have found a few things I want to try. Falafel, hummus, eggplant parm and a pasta dish with some olives, sundried tomatoes and pesto. I think some feta cheese will go nicely. I can tell already that I’m not going to completely forgo chee I tried the soy cheese we bought, and let’s just say I hope it’s better melted. It was so not great. I’m also considering getting a few laying hens, so I can be sure any eggs we would use come from happy, well cared for animals. I guess my other major life goal is to have a small farm one day, and to learn to make cheeses. I’m not much of a straight up milk person, because it makes me phlegmy, but take away my cheddar, and I’ll put your eye out. So now I need to figure what’s on the menu for today. I had some frosted mini wheats and chocolate soy milk earlier, and it was really good. It’s also really good in Kashi Crunch cereal. Very sweet. And, hopefully we can hit up the local farmer’s market this afternoon. I am dying for some fresh tomatoes and peaches! And so begins day 1…

Bouquet

Originally uploaded by crimmles

I didn’t realize the various gardenia bushes around the house would be so full of blooms now. They are, and that makes me happy, because gardenias are one of my favorite flowers. Plus, I adore the scent; it might scream old lady to some, but to me it whispers classical sweetness. Tomato, tomahto.

Now my mantel is happy with its new bouquet, the scent is lightly wafting through the living room, and they look nice in the bud vase Brian received at his friend’s wedding last year. I just wish I had a bedside table to put another bouquet beside, because drifting to sleep to the scent of gardenias sounds heavenly right now.

So sad there are no leftovers

Originally uploaded by crimmles

Here at last- the super easy, beefy-beany enchiladas.

This town is pretty sleepy, in a Mayberry way (not that that’s a bad thing). But in the last 2 weeks, I’ve had a small herd of cows moving through my yard, to and fro. It’s funny to watch the cats freak out in the windows when these behemoth bovines walk through. Fuzzed tails are always funny. I’m not at all afraid of cows, and if only the camera would appear to me, I’d make friends with them, and have an impromptu photo shoot in the yard. Which is kinda funny, b/c if my mom knew, she’d freak. Nevermind the fact I’m 27 years old; she thinks all cows are killer beasts whose only purpose is to be served on a bun or with A-1. They may be tasty but they are pretty cool. How many other animals do you know can touch their noses with their tongues?

So, the camera hunt of ‘08 has begun. And I’m hoping that when that stinking garden plot I keep threatening is finally dug, that they will be nice cows and leave.it.alone. Maybe I’ll tell them I was a vegetarian once, and I’ve always thought cows were noble and stoic, and chickens taste better, anyway. If not, then…well, summer’s coming, and I love a good bbq

I love winter, I really do. It has two of my favorite holidays- Christmas and my birthday- the weather doesn’t really bug me (we don’t get a lot of snow in Louisiana), and there’s nothing better on a cold winter night than a bowl of potato soup and a cheesy biscuit (and I’ll be posting those recipes shortly!). But for the last few years, winter just doesn’t do it for me. I’ve started to miss leaving the windows open all day and seeing flowers in the yard. I blame the Burpee and Park Seed catalogs.

Last year, I went a little crazy in a couple of garden centers. I bought several packs of flower seed, some bulbs (I hope peonies last a while in unopened bags!), and a couple of pink ranunculus, tulips, and purple hyacinth (that my cat peed on while in the window…) This year, I’ve decided to challenge myself. Our yard doesn’t suck at all; we have various flowering shrubs and trees, all blooming at different times. What’s missing are smaller bursts of color. Basically, I really love all sorts of flowers, and I’d fill the entire yard with them if I could. But I have decided this year, instead of spending way more on flowers than I do on a lot of other things, I am going to challenge myself to work with the rest of what I have from last year, and try to spend no more than twenty dollars on new stuff. Part one of the challenge is deciding which areas need the most work. There are four areas I want to improve: the two flowerbeds, the front walk, and the mailbox.

The flowerbeds each have specific challenges. The front one has a spot that is flooded each time it rains. I need to find plants that will stand up to run off from the roof, and I’d like to find some way to combat that problem, without giving the local mosquitoes a place to breed. The side bed is where my rose is. It’s problem is it gets a little more sun that it should, and it looks kinda lonely there all by itself. It’s a yellow hybrid tea, and last year it bloomed at the same time a wild purple iris bloomed. I loved that combo, so I think some lavender will work with it. And I’d like to add both some wood mulch and a lower growing flower, to combat the weeds and give the lower part of the rose a little break from the high sun.

I planned to put petunias on each side of the front walk, but I wound up planting most of them in hanging baskets. They died after a month or so, but they looked good while they lasted. I saw in one of the many seed catalogs I get a grouping of red, white and blue petunias, and I liked it. Not only is it cute and patriotic, it goes well with the house’s exterior and the stargazer lilies I have planted at the end of the walk.

Lastly, there’s the mailbox. I still have a good amount of gladiolus’ left, and I like the idea of them mirroring the verticalness of the mailbox. I was also thinking of some medium height sunflowers and maybe some coleus for below. I loooove coleus It comes in so many colors. And even though I won’t be getting any anytime soon, I really like the black velvet elephant ears. So dramatic and striking. They just wouldn’t look right in my yard, I hate to say. But Diana, if you’re reading this, you should look into them!

So, I have a list to make, and I’ll post it once I’ve finalized. We’ll see if I stick to it!

Everyone is entitled to a grump day. Your boss pissing you off? Happens too often, I’m sure. Significant other being pissy? Smack him (never her!) on the back of the head and say “wtf, jack?” Currently, my “looks like a chipmunk with a gland problem” tabby, Parker, is attempting to knock as many things off my desk as possible, in the search for treats- as though she actually needs MORE treats. You can’t explain to her that treats are why she looks like she has severe hypothyroidism (she is a cat, after all, and last I checked, their grasp on English? not so great.) Why am I all grump-ified today? I have a wisdom tooth giving me hell, and it’s causing my jaw and head to hurt like eff. It sucks. So today is my official grump day (at least for this week.) And here’s how it’s going down:

Cookies- Since I still have a stash of frozen chocolate chip cookie dough, my fat happy ass is going to cookie it up. I will likely still be a bit pissy after a stack of warm cookie and a glass of moo juice, but you can’t say I didn’t try.

Books and Magazines- It’s time to lay down, pretend that I have a huge, fluffy down comforter, tons of pillows, and a personal masseuse. Until then, I will lay back on my new bed (thank you, Bribles!), bust out Glamour and various cookbooks, and take my mind off my barking jaw- by planning a day after Thanksgiving and Christmas meal of some sort menus. And which cookies I’ll be making this holiday season. Seriously, people, it’s all about the cookies.

Nap time- Reading in bed makes me sleepy. That’s why I do it. Enough said.

After several hours of cookies, planning, and naps, it will be time to make dinner. Thankfully, I planned ahead, and have all the ingredients for stir fry on hand. If only I had a kick-ass recipe for crab meat and cream chee wontons. That just might make the rest of my week better, tooth pain be damned. So, for your Grump day, do what pleases you (well, as long as it’s legal; don’t beat down my door if you got snookered and drove a go-cart into a fountain b/c it makes you happy- I’d suggest drinking at home and playing Mario Cart, but that’s just me.) Eat cookies. Order too much pizza. Look at magazines and think of all those ridiculous clothes you would never wear and can’t afford, anyway. Volunteer at an animal shelter. Which brings me to my final point- I would have fewer grump days if I had a certain Dachshund/Poodle mix named Goldie from a local shelter. That dog has me written all over her. I even have her fall wardrobe picked out (lots of herringbone sweaters in red, white, black- and of course pink.) So, I’m working on getting into dog ownership, as it’s been two years since my sweetie Siobhan passed. Dogs rule. David Duchovny wouldn’t lie. And dogs are the all-time, number one fix for Grump day. If nothing else, they can provide the fuel for a little gift to leave on your boss’ doorstep.

We all experience cravings at some point. For some of us, nothing gets the job done quite like chocolate. It’s sweet and perfect on it’s own, but pairs so well with creamy, salty, toasty….almost any flavor. And when you want it, nothing else will do. I had one of these days last week. I was going through my typical daily routine of random distraction, not cleaning or doing the laundry as I should have. A favorite memory from my childhood flooded my brain- a cookie making party my mom had when I was about 5. She’d invited several of my cousins, and even let my brother (who was the family klutz at that time, not to mention, only three years old) help. I have a picture of all of us around the kitchen table in my scrapbook. It was a happy, messy day, as evidenced by all the flour covering the six of us. I think this was the first time I ever helped make Toll House cookies. And certainly the first time I had my first spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough.

The memory sparked a craving, one that I hadn’t had since late December. I wanted fresh-from-the-oven, gooey, chocolaty cookies. Made from scratch.

I usually have all the common baking ingredients on hand- flour, sugar, eggs, etc. Even real butter. This day was no exception. All I needed were the chocolate chips. So I had to convince the Bribles that A) he wanted fresh cookies, too, and B) the only thing he needed to pick up that evening was a bag of milk chocolate chips. He happily obliged. And what he came home with was nothing short of shocking. The only request I had was they be milk chocolate. What came happily through my door was not at all what I expected. It was so much better. Ghiradelli. Not that I’m some chocolate snob- if it’s sweet, brown, sold in the candy or baking aisle, I’m all for it. My palate may not be that well refined, but I know what I like. And I can’t say I have one go-to recipe for these particular cookies. Usually, whatever’s on the back of the chip bag is good enough. They are, after all, just some combination of the same ingredients. This recipe didn’t seem like any exception. The dough tasted right. (Note: I love cookie dough…maybe more than the cookies, but raw egg strains the relationship.) I whipped out my melon baller, which I recommend for all drop cookies, and got to dropping dough. I think I actually hit the suggested yield according to the recipe, which was a first (so, if you are one who likes to bake cookies, get a melon baller!) Pop them in the oven, and eleven minutes later, they came out, the most perfectly shaped chocolate chip cookies I’d ever made. Once cooled sufficiently, about 5.8 seconds, I started the nibbling. It had the perfect chewy-crunchy texture. Of course, it was warm, and the chips just melt-y enough (they are actually larger than the chips I am used to) to make me need to sit down for a minute. Then I had another, then two more. Craving satisfied. But the best reaction of all came from Bribles, who upon first taste exclaimed “I think these are the best cookies I’ve ever tasted!” They were all gone the next night. Which was also when we decided the only logical step was to get more chips. Only this time, freeze the dough, so we can have fresh cookies when we want. Because you never know when the craving may hit.

Is not my thing. Since I was a kid, I have had either a problem or just a fascination with not doing things in exactly the manner they were “supposed” to be done. Once in kindergarten,  we were all given a leaf to color. The teacher (supposedly, I was in the bathroom at this point), told everyone to color them green. I return to my seat, see everyone around me filling theirs in with green crayon, and decide mine will be red. I have nothing against the color green. It’s a lovely color and an admirable way to live. I just thought that that sea of green could use a bit of livening up. So, after I’d chosen the perfect red (not red-violet, that shouldn’t even be a crayon, yuck), my nearest classmate goes “Ooooh, we’re s’posed to make them green!” She tells the teacher. The teacher informs me that there are only enough for everyone to have one, and next time, I’d better FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS. Granted, I can’t follow directions I haven’t heard, but 23 kids with green leaves should have tipped me off. And as for tattletale, she wound up with Play-doh in her hair a few weeks later. I was caught and served one of the dreaded “frowny-face” papers to take to my parents, I guess to shame me into better behavior next time. It wound up in the trash the minute I got off the bus (so, directions be damned). And tattletale didn’t find out about the “Play-doh Incident of ‘86″ until about ‘93.

I credit my mother with my unwillingness to go with the flow. She would say “different is good, different is best, different doesn’t wind up pregnant at sixteen!” And so, I was different. Taller and chubbier than all the other kids (not that I could help most of that), wearing clothes unlike everyone elses’ (much to my “be different!” mother’s chagrin), and quieter than everyone in my family. I am different, whatever that may mean. To me it’s being myself, the self that both loves and hates getting up really early in the morning, the me that tweaks recipes until maybe they are truly “mine,” and the me that is constantly accused of grandmotherly-slow driving by anyone lucky enough to ride with my slow ass. Which is all fine and good, but not really why I’m here. I do think it is a good bit of info about myself to share with others, because it is a key part of my personality and why I do the things I do, and why I do them the way(s) I do. So now I’m off to the kitchen, to decide whether I should clean it up before I make some brown sugar cupcakes, or just add to the mess. Knowing me, I’ll opt to clean the larger mess later. Just don’t tell my mom I swept before I wiped off the counters and table. That always bugged her.