Tag Archives: booze

First Dates and Consequences

4 Sep


First, let me say that renewing your tabs is hard.  I admire all of you who get it done.  Sometimes I get my tabs renewed, but then putting them on the car is hard.  This was not my first tab-related run-in with the law.  I believe it was my fourth.

When the nice man pulled me over, he said, “Ma’am [cringe], I pulled you over because your tabs are expired.”  I almost said: “I know!  Did you notice how I was trying to stay BEHIND you?”  The clever fella had pulled off the road, let me pass him, then pulled back on and pulled me over.  Sneaky…  What I actually said, though, was, “I know, I just noticed that,” which was a total lie, and “I changed my name and moved last year, so never received a notice in the mail.  I didn’t know they wouldn’t find me like all my bills did.”  That part was true.  And I didn’t notice for a few months, but it should’ve been done by now.

Because we were on the highway, he was talking to me through my passenger window.  When he went back to his car to make sure I’m not a felon or whatever, I noticed that we’d been chatting over an open container of gin on the floor.  In my defense, I don’t have a trunk and the seats are down in my SUV, so that was the least chaotic place to stash it on my drive home.  While he was away, I quickly covered it with my bag and fluffed my hair up a little for good measure.  He came back with a warning for the tabs and a “ticket” for my expired proof of insurance (another thing that is hard), and sent me on my way.  He was pretty nice, but not very observant.

I bet you’re wondering what a nice girl like me is doing driving around with an open container of gin.  Well, it was left over from a first date I had last night.  My lovely friend over at Riot and Frolic was nice enough to have me for dinner, drinks, and blog-strategy.  We’ve been FBBFFs (that’s facebook-best-friends-forever…s) for a while now, but decided it was time to take things to the next level.  It was lovely and charming and full of fresh produce and fancy tonic water in small bottles.  I had brought the drink ingredients, and was just on my way home with my little open container.  No big.

I feel lucky to have so many great friends, but new ones are so great and it’s definitely harder to make them once you’re out of dorm life.  Even turning a coworker into a friend isn’t as easy as you get older.  At least it’s not as hard for me as it is for the menfolk, but I couldn’t help my amusement at how we were both nervous that it might not “work out.”  But it did, and I’ll probably wait 3 days and then call her.  Look out, this could be the beginning of some great writing material…

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Ya Gotta Have Friends…

29 Jul


My friends are the greatest!

They tell me when I’m good at stuff.  Occasionally, they tell me when I’m not so good at stuff.  Example: “You should maybe consider taking your life in a different direction.”  They tell me when I look great, and when I’ve strayed from the looks that I look great in.  Example: I now own two of the currently-trendy belted Hefty bag dresses.  One maxi, one mini.  Friend J has insinuated that while I look fine in them, I should not add to my collection.  No matter how comfy they are.  Her (and my) better half hates them entirely, but we all have fat days.  This lady illustrates that you don’t have to have a fat day to wear this dress.

Sometimes, your friends will pretend that you don’t bother them when you totally do.  Example: Friend N (see also: Husband) pretended this morning that we weren’t leaving the house 15 minutes late.  He sat at the breakfast table, staring into space, as I rushed around trying to get out the door.  He then claimed that he “hadn’t noticed the time” and marveled at how “the last 10 minutes go by so quickly!”  I think he was grinding his teeth, but it was nice of him just the same.

Sometimes, your friends remind you to do the things that make you happy.  Friend K, who is 11 months pregnant, is getting impatient with my lack of writing.  She sent me a message at 4am today that I should get to writin’ because she is bored and can’t move/sleep/sit still/function.  Or something to that effect.  So here I am, 12 hours later, writing!  Hi K, hope you’re staying cool.  You should really schedule your last trimesters for the cold snaps.

Sometimes, your friends help you buy things.  In college, Friend B and I shared joint custody of a pair of purple velvet pants.  No, really, they were cool…  Friend KS and I currently share joint custody of a set of sweet recipe cards from the 70s that have cocktails on one side and appetizers on the other, complete with awesome photos.

Sometimes, they challenge you to try new things!  Or new old things.  Like crocheting.  Is that even a word?  I’ve tried knitting… I’m okay at it.  Crocheting is easier, I think.  Friend J just asked if I could show her how.  Right now, I could not, but I was just thinking about trying it again after reading Friend K’s post about it.  So I think I’ll re-examine my yarn collection and crochet hook, figure it out, and teach Friend J.  Think about it… I get to do something challenging (figuring it out), something creative (making something fuzzy), and something that adds to one of my many great friendships (teaching Friend J)!  I think I’ll try this cute flower, it looks like a good first project…

I can barely keep track of my great friends, but they seem to always still be there when I resurface from my long work weeks.  Maybe it’s because of my keen fashion sense… or my cocktail-making skills.

Kitchen Ninja

12 Jul

Yesterday was Day One of my Week of Good Things.  I’m going to be honest with you – I got a lot done.  First things first, I sat out on the back porch with a cup of coffee and read.  No, wait, that wasn’t even the first thing.  First, I MADE the coffee, then I lounged around with it.  Don’t leave, it gets more interesting.

Breakfast tacos were the first menu item yesterday.  Soft shell for him, hard shell for me.  Some scrambled eggs, cheese, and a buffet of taco toppings.  One of the best ideas I’ve had!  Super easy, and having to put it all together each time kept me eating slowly enough that I didn’t do that thing that horses do.

After that mess was cleaned up, I whipped up (with my helper) a breakfast bake that should get us through the week.  Today’s report: the wheat baguette we put in it this time is overwhelming.  No amount of Tillamook cheddar can quiet this bread.

Next, I took the 16 organic lemons that I bought over the weekend at Whole Foods and my life-changing Microplane zester and zested and zested into a gallon jug.  Well, into a funnel that was on top of the gallon jug.  Live and learn.

Then, once I coaxed the big zesty clog down into the jar (I used a chopstick), I poured in a 1.75 of decent vodka and corked it.  This will sit in my pantry for a few weeks until I get around to making some simple syrup to add to the mix.  It’s soooo much better than the stuff you can buy, and so much cheaper!  As soon as it’s done, I can get to the very important and not-to-be-taken-lightly task of inventing a new cocktail.  And yes, I’m wearing purple polka-dotted pants.

Next, I looked at the big bowl of now-naked lemons I had.  Those won’t keep!  So what did I do?  I made lemonade!  This would have been a LOT more fun if I owned a citrus reamer.  What I do own, though, is a set of matching thumbs.  So my thumbs and I got to work squeezing all 16 lemons into a big measuring cup.  3 cups of juice is what made it INTO the cup.  If you’ve ever squeezed 16 lemons with your thumbs, you know that a lot of juice ends up on you, on your work surface, and on the floor.  I recommend getting an audience (husband) for this process, it’s really enjoyable for them (him).

I’m just not convinced that you can dissolve granulated sugar effectively in lemon juice, so I made a simple syrup to sweeten things up.  I didn’t use nearly the proportion that my guideline recipe called for, and I still might have over-sweetened it.  I saved the rest of the syrup so that I’d have a little jar in my fridge, something I’ve been meaning to do for a while.  It’s a taco sauce jar, and even though I cleaned it out really well, the lid still smells like taco sauce.  So here’s hoping my simple syrup doesn’t taste like green chiles.

A short break was taken to go compare prices at the liquor stores in the area (research for our upcoming bbq), and to pick up some herbs that I fully intend to pot very soon.  I didn’t get to it yesterday, and today isn’t looking good either.  But they are by the window in their plastic bags, and I think they’ll be fine for a few days.

When we came back, I embarked on my final project for the day: red curry glazed salmon with bok choy and pineapple slaw.  A-mazing.  Recipes coming soon to a blog near you.  I got them from this month’s Real Simple, they had an article on 3-ingredient recipes.  I didn’t expect the flavors to be so interesting, but it was great!  I think I’ll keep these handy.  Bonus: 3-ingredient meals are cheaper than 17-ingredient meals. Plus I used some of the remaining cilantro to make a neat tequila drink.  Whatever helps me waste less, people.

Dinner is served.

Freaks!

8 Jun

Seems that a busy work week can put a damper on my intentions to get to this… ironic, given the title of my last post!  Oh well, back on the wagon!

We are both control freaks, but of different colors.  Me, I’m a freak about the details.  He is a freak about “the plan” and something called “all-or-nothing.”  I will explain.

Because of the high incidence of Spandex (R) and exposed skin in our chosen profession, we sometimes (less frequently than in previous years) shave some carbs out of our diets.  For me this means having two pieces of cake instead of three.  Or having sushi, because “it’s only a little bit of rice!”  For him this means eating scrambled eggs and cottage cheese and grilled chicken.  Once he decides not to eat cake or rice or anything that tastes good, he just doesn’t.  End of discussion.  I can’t seem to understand why, after our grilled chicken and cottage cheese, we can’t just have a little dessert!

By about Tuesday (we have Sunday and Monday off, so Tuesday is the beginning of our work week), he is usually asking me what “the plan” is for the weekend.  My response is usually something like this: “…I don’t know…” accompanied by a look that says, “stupid question, stupid answer.”  I’m a really nice person.  The thing is, I’m a recovering over-planner, so whenever possible, I like to go where the wind blows me.  I learned it from my friends, I think it’s lovely.  He thinks it’s disorganized.

However… if we are GOING to make “a plan,” it needs to be The Perfect Plan.  This is where I become a freak.  (Maybe my resistance to planning is a self-preserving attempt to be less freakish?)  We’re going out to lunch?  I have to research the menu online – nothing is more irritating than an unpublished menu! – so that I can make a decision on my order sometime the same day as being seated.  I need to find the perfect patio on a gorgeous day.  And what kind of cocktail will enhance the sunshine?  It’s paralyzing, folks.

A couple weeks ago, after much “What do you want to do?” and “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” he planned a date.  It was wonderful.  I did not criticize the details.  I didn’t even want to!  We went to see The Hangover 2.  He poured Captain Morgan into our Coke.  The movie, and the drink, were gross.  Then we went to dinner.  This was actually pretty exciting, because we never do the dinner-and-a-movie date.  I had a good martini, some thawed calamari, a pretty decent entree, and a great time.

I think we can all see the lesson here: let him handle the details.  I’m going to start doing a LOT of delegating.  As an act of self-therapy, of course!