- Getting a bunch of internet research done.
- Developing a loose plot-line.
- Getting my crafty on.
- Feeling the burn.
- Completing seven basic scrapbook pages, to which I can add details and stories later. It’s a start on the 10 year backlog.
- Broasted veggies and fresh bread for dinner.
- Being asked to make more bread for breakfast.
- Freeing myself from the obligation to read The Psychiatric Interview
- Writing down the daily agenda. Yeah, finally. I had to see what worked.
Archives
May 2, W is for
Wal-Mart run. I bought some kitchen things.
January 27, In Which We Start A Jar of Joy
So, I decided just before the end of 2012 that I would keep a Jar of Joy for 2013, and tonight I put it together. The very fancy jar is the plastic one that held my first purchase of Arborio, which is what I use to make the risotto I have posted pictures of. The lone item inside (for now) is one half of an oyster shell found on Chesapeake Bay *with its matching half* by my friend. He kept one side for his jar and I took the other for mine.
The other thing of note that I did today was to write my first piece of publicly consumable erotica. No, you won’t be seeing it here. Muhahahahahahahaha!
Oh, and wash my kids’ heads with lice shampoo, since it has been 10 days since the first time I did it. God, my hands reek!
January 23, In Which We Make Risotto
So, you probably figured out that I went away for the weekend. I had a wonderful time, and that is all I am going to say about that here for now.
While I was gone, I was taught how to make risotto, and I attempted it alone yesterday. I started 8 chicken thighs with “garlic and parsley salt” in the croc kpot before I went to school. I filled the pot up to the top, because risotto takes a LOT of stock.
When it was time to cook, I moved the bubbling, steaming crock pot to the other counter (sometimes I am such a forward thinker 
), and removed the chicken to a plate.
I sauteed a half pound of mushrooms in a third of a stick of butter, and put them in a bowl when they were done.
While the mushrooms were cooking, I sliced 8 green onions and diced 3 shallots. I added another third stick of butter and set these to saute.
Then I added 3 cups of Arborio rice. And some olive oil. And some more olive oil. And a little more olive oil. You are supposed to coat the rice with the oil, and stir it until it is translucent with a white dot in the center. I think my heat may have been too high, and my delay in comprehending how much oil that was going to take too long, because by the time I got all the rice coated, it had turned opaque again. Just noting that for next time.
Then I started ladling in stock, one ladle-full at a time, stirring almost constantly. I used about 10 cups of stock, I think, but I could have easily added in at least another cup, maybe two. Just before I added the last of the stock, I added the mushrooms and the (now de-boned and chunked) chicken back to the pot.
And here is what it looked like when it was done. It did need a good deal of salting at the table, but I wasn’t sure how much to use, and erred on the side of caution. It’s much easier to add more than to take some out, right?
It was a big hit here! Most of the kids had seconds, and the neighbor loved it. I had her step in for a bite or two last night, took the leftovers to her tonight since she had surgery today. I will definitely risotto again. Perhaps with tonight’s left over pot roast.
Test
Testing the tablet.
January 7, In Which We Prepare for School
Break is all but over! School begins on Wednesday, so I am trying to tie up loose ends. Today, I ordered the last of my books, and 2 pairs of shoes. I love me some shoes.
Then I took 15 years off my 45 with the help of Miss Clairol. I said when my face matched my hair, I’d quit dyeing it, and my face still has not gotten as wrinkled as my hair is grey. Thank God, and who ever else is listening.
After I sorted through the clothes yesterday, I got a little overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I have. Not just with clothes. See, I also finished the first pass through the cubbies yesterday. (Yes, I was a busy girl.) I have too much of everything. There is not enough room in my room to put it all away. (Yes, I know I ordered shoes this morning. I do have empty space in my shoe racks!)
I am a hoarder. Clothes, books, notebooks, scrapbooks supplies, yarn, beads, eyeshadows, lipsticks, all of it, and all too much. Freud would have a field day. I’m not Freud. And I am learning to accept that there is enough. Of everything. Enough money, enough love, enough time, enough STUFF. And I don’t have to, cannot afford to, keep all of it in my house at all times.
I have given myself a year to flip this room. By January 6 of next year, it needs to function smoothly, as I intend it to function. Nothing stored on the floor. A cubby full (and no more) of supplies for each of my hobbies. The chair and the bench need to be open and available for seating.
So, the Great Wear It Experiment is starting over. I laid out my sweaters this afternoon. These are the long-sleeved ones with closed fronts and no buttons and that don’t need an undershirt for modesty’s sake (ok, two of them do, but it’s because they are thin, not because they are open-weave). No cardis, no jackets, just regular winter sweaters. There were 33 of them. Thirty-three is an amazing number of sweaters, even for a knitter, and I have only made two of these. And this is what it looks like. An entire double bed full.
I weeded out three without trying any of them on. One was too big. One had a hole that I have elected not to repair, because, really, 33? The last one was difficult. I’ve had it for 20 years. It was a gift from my cousin when I was pregnant with my second. But it has some staining now, and really? 33? If I don’t do something, I will be needing premier mounts on my walls to hold more shelving, just for my clothes.
So, down to 30, which I will be wearing one by one while it is still cold enough to do so. I’ll be looking at color, comfort, fit and all that stuff. I’ve also pulled all my scarves out. 16. Geez. All my winter bottoms are out, too, but I am not counting them. Yet. Also shoes.
But on January 6th of next year, if I have not found a way to wear everything I own….it’s gone.
Ten Day Writing Challenge, Day 6
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
My five are the ones I can go to when I have a struggle, and they encourage me to do, (and help me figure out,) what is right for me not just what is “right.” No names, because it’s not my right to violate their privacy.
stajl
When in doubt, buy new skivvies
In leopard print if you can find them. I’m just sayin….
So for a while, like, 30 years give or take, I have been confused by men. Well, that’s not entirely true. I understand them well enough, and I get along with them. I both comprehend and speak man-ese. It’s the whole man/woman dynamic that gets me addled. They have this on again/off again thing they do. Want you, don’t, want you, maybe, want you, don’t, how soon can you be here, never mind cause I’m busy? WTH? I thought it was them, and then I saw this picture a few minutes ago, and I realized…it may be me. Maybe this whole time that I thought I was mirroring men in their indecisiveness, they were mirroring me.
I have to admit that I have a certain ambivalence about relationship. Not relationships, because I don’t deal in multiple romantic interests at once. RelationSHIP. I’m fairly content single, calling my own shots, doing what I want when I want. Sometimes, yeah, I want male company. That whole breathless excitement thing. Confirmation that I still have it going on. But mostly I only think about my “relationship status” when one of my long-term single friends pairs off. There’s this momentary ”what’s wrong with me, that I can’t find a man and form a real relationship?”
But maybe I keep ending up in the friend zone because I am a damn good friend, which is NOT a bad thing. Maybe I end up in the friend zone because that’s exactly where I need to be, where I am most comfortable Hmmm. I’ll have to consider that a bit.
What does that have to do with leopard print skivvies? Buying brazen underwear to wear for my own delight is a wildly liberating thing. It’s a fresh perspective on small pleasures that are just about me. It’s saying to myself that it’s okay to not know exactly what I want, and a reminder that maybe, just maybe the non-relationship relationship is enough for me just now. Maybe, just maybe it’s time to quit worrying about it and enjoy it for what it is.
P.S. I found mine at Wal-Mart!
P.P.S. This article, Unconditional Love versus Sexual Desire, though only tangentially related to this post is BOSS. I found it by clicking a link after clicking a link Zemanta suggested. Zemanta is also BOSS.