So I found that I was asking myself a lot of questions when I woke up this morning.
Such as, where are our front steps? How can those birds possibly be chirping at me from that tree as I push a foot of snow off my car? How can I repay the nice man who took a snow blower to our front walk? Why is that guy up the street with the braces even attempting to walk his dog?
I’m not kidding about that last one. Guy’s like three hundred pounds and he smokes. He’s got braces attached to his arms that he uses to help him walk. Only time I ever see him out is when it snows and he’s with his dog. The dog runs around, he yells at it and feigns horror at the fact that he can’t chase after the thing. He holds a lot of conversations with himself in loud tones about how tired he is and what a pain in the ass the dog is. He’s loud and obnoxious and I swear to God if he ever falls down I am only going to use my cell phone to take pictures of it, not call an ambulance.
Is there an Olympic event for shoveling? ‘Cause if there is, I win the gold. And if not, fuck you Olympics. I felt like a curler this morning anyway, vehemently scraping the ice off my car.
Well, I’m off to shovel some more, as the white stuff just won’t stop falling. Toodles. : )
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
the all new, all purpose me.
As I have pointed out numerous times to you, I’m sure, I’m an only child. It wasn’t until recently, when Tony and I moved into our own home, that I’d really been out by myself with no one to lean on.
I’m not saying I’m not a domestic person, because I have certainly proven to myself in the past couple of months that I’m totally capable of handling my affairs with ease and efficiency. I knew I always had the knowledge and the verve to accomplish such things; the problem was, I never had an environment in which to use them. Well, now I do.
One thing that I have yet to fully exercise is my culinary skills (or lack thereof). Please understand that until about oh, five years ago?, I was an extraordinarily picky eater. I brought peanut butter sandwiches to lunch with me every day from eight grade until graduation. I used to scrape the cheese off my pizza and damned if I knew anything about fruits and veggies – what are those, anyway?
I still have my misgivings (tomatoes, onions, certain types of meat), but all in all I’ve gotten over my food phobias and have become a well-rounded eater. (Both literally and figuratively…although it could be all the Dominos, and not my expansive diet, that’s caused a bit of weight gain.) So, now that I have my own kitchen to mess around in, I’ve decided to delve into the art of cooking.
I come from a family of great cooks, namely my grandmother. She had a garden, made pasta from scratch, and was relied upon for the best meals during holidays. She made a spaghetti sauce that will never match any other. Unfortunately, by the time I realized I wanted to learn how to cook and make such a sauce, she was gone. I’ve just now inherited a little piece of her that should help me along the way.
The 1997 edition of The Joy of Cooking. Five-ish pounds of not only recipes, but the basics of food and appliances and cooking methods. This book was always at her side and now, with it in my hands, I see the tattered and bookmarked pages – she used this thing a lot. So, now I’m going to methodically go through it and do my best to nurture my (hopefully) innate Italian/Polish cooking skills and make some damn good meals.
Yes, I am going to go Julie & Julia on you for a bit here. Sorry. But when I screw up it’ll be funny, right? And if I don’t, simply tasty – and you’ll wish you were here to try it.
I’m not saying I’m not a domestic person, because I have certainly proven to myself in the past couple of months that I’m totally capable of handling my affairs with ease and efficiency. I knew I always had the knowledge and the verve to accomplish such things; the problem was, I never had an environment in which to use them. Well, now I do.
One thing that I have yet to fully exercise is my culinary skills (or lack thereof). Please understand that until about oh, five years ago?, I was an extraordinarily picky eater. I brought peanut butter sandwiches to lunch with me every day from eight grade until graduation. I used to scrape the cheese off my pizza and damned if I knew anything about fruits and veggies – what are those, anyway?
I still have my misgivings (tomatoes, onions, certain types of meat), but all in all I’ve gotten over my food phobias and have become a well-rounded eater. (Both literally and figuratively…although it could be all the Dominos, and not my expansive diet, that’s caused a bit of weight gain.) So, now that I have my own kitchen to mess around in, I’ve decided to delve into the art of cooking.
I come from a family of great cooks, namely my grandmother. She had a garden, made pasta from scratch, and was relied upon for the best meals during holidays. She made a spaghetti sauce that will never match any other. Unfortunately, by the time I realized I wanted to learn how to cook and make such a sauce, she was gone. I’ve just now inherited a little piece of her that should help me along the way.
The 1997 edition of The Joy of Cooking. Five-ish pounds of not only recipes, but the basics of food and appliances and cooking methods. This book was always at her side and now, with it in my hands, I see the tattered and bookmarked pages – she used this thing a lot. So, now I’m going to methodically go through it and do my best to nurture my (hopefully) innate Italian/Polish cooking skills and make some damn good meals.
Yes, I am going to go Julie & Julia on you for a bit here. Sorry. But when I screw up it’ll be funny, right? And if I don’t, simply tasty – and you’ll wish you were here to try it.
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