Smells Like Christmas

I have spent the better part of the past 3 hours cooking, cleaning, making shopping lists, and all around trying to get organized for the weekend. This is what the folks at Bon Appetit do to me. This little "cleanse" requires a ridiculous amount of thinking and planning, even though they pretty much spell it all out for you. I don't want to do one big shop for the week, because I know that as much as I say I am going to stick to this plan, shit comes up. So I'm plotting out three days at a time, which means going through each recipe and making a list of what I'll need through Sunday. So much for BA's handy-dandy shopping list.

But the house smells delish ... roasted beets with rosemary and thyme and some kind of squash raisin compote that is filling the house with the mouth-watering aromas of cinnamon and cloves. Smells like Christmas, but without the cookies!

A case in point of not all things going to plan: Tonight, after we enjoy our healthy snapper and chard, we will be trekking up the hill for a hilarious night of Cards Against Humanity. Is it wrong that I love that game so much!? I am bringing along the BA dessert for tonight ... how can you go wrong with Spicy Orange Hazelnut Chocolate Bark (oh, how I love BA's idea of a cleanse!! so so so much better than cabbage smoothies and plain broth)? The trouble with tonight is that I know I will indulge in my week's "allotment" of four alcoholic beverages in one night.

Oh well, it's the intention of it all, right? It's not like it's a doctor-prescribed program.

Other than that, all is well in the world ... mostly. I need to sort out stuff in my head and ratchet up my libido after the lethargy of the holidays. Gotta keep Mr. J and me happy! Of course, my idea of one way to keep me happy is to get me one of these:

Who looks an awful lot like this old guy, who I miss so much:

The first little guy, who I call Chester Part 2 (after the gorgeous fellow in the second picture), followed Mr. J into the house the other day. He explored all around, ate some canned crab, and then asked to be let out again. So polite. Today as I went out to check the mail, he followed me right inside. After another lunch of crab, he curled up on my lap and promptly fell asleep, purring away. I am in love! But he obviously belongs to someone in the 'hood, so when he loitered around the front door again, I let him out, and off he ran.

I'm thinking Chester Part 2 is one smart kitty who knows a good thing when he finds it. I wonder how many other homes he hits up during his daily wanderings!

Date Night

Technically, Mr. J does not believe in Date Night, which is really neither here nor there for this tale. But Sunday night, whether or not he cares to admit it, we went on a date.

After a 5-hour whirlwind of cleaning, during which I completed only 1.5 rooms (though the baseboards and fridge are now spotless), I was D-O-N-E with this house. And there was no way I was going to cook anything in my oven, mainly because it was sprayed top to bottom with stinky, fume-y oven cleaner. What had gotten me through much of my cleaning frenzy (which really only happens once a year, so I know to go with it when it hits) was the one sentence Mr. J had mentioned in passing while I was down on my knees, breathing in bleach, trying to get the high-velocity mud splatter off the walls (dang dogs): "We should go to Red Feather tonight."

In thanks for watching their pooch Roxie, our good friends gave us a super-generous gift certificate to one of the nicer restaurants in town. Thoughts of the Feather's tasty, unique cocktails and even tastier lamb ribs were what kept me going through three mops of the disgustingly dirty living room floor (where I was able to create an entire new life form from the piles of dog hair discovered under the furniture and behind the speakers).

So, by 5:30, even though I wasn't quite done with the kitchen, I declared that I had had enough. I was also starting to hallucinate, thanks to the lovely mixture of bleach, vinegar, goo-be-gone, and oven cleaner. I joked that maybe we should just stay in, as cooking a meal might help dissipate some of the fumes. Mr. J replied, "OK, if that's what you want."

Um ... Major Fail on his part.

He then came to his senses, after hearing me mutter and swear over the fact that I had mopped the kitchen floor four times and was still pulling up mud and dog hair, and said, "I think we should probably get you out of this house."

Yes.

So off we went, arm in arm through the cool, fresh, bleach-free air, to the sanctuary that is Red Feather.

Sadly they were out of the lamb riblets (NOOO!). So instead we ordered the spicy sticky wings. No buffalo wings, these. They were full chicken wings covered in the most amazingly sticky, delicious garlicky sauce. Literally finger-lickin' good. Then onto their infamous spicy lamb burger for Mr. J and the mushroom-stuffed chicken for me. I chose poorly, but that's because it had been so long since I'd been out for a nice dinner, I had forgotten my cardinal rule: "Never order a chicken dish, unless you are in an Asian or Mexican restaurant." So that was my fault.

But then came dessert. We were both completely satisfied with our meal, but the folks at the table behind us and the waitress both recommended the beignets with hot butterscotch sauce. And let me tell you ... if you are ever in Boise, even just passing through, go to Red Feather and order yourself a plate of these little powdered-sugar-coated pieces of nirvana. And the sauce? To die for!! After polishing off the hot-from-the-frying-oil beignets, we still had half a cup of sauce. Mr. J was sopping it up with his finger, while I was trying to eat it with a fork (we are so "couth"). Our lovely waitress, noticing our dilemma, dropped off two soup spoons and mentioned, "These will help." Apparently she is an expert on how best to eat butterscotch sauce. I threatened to lick the crumbs off the table, but Mr. J gave me a look that said it might be a bit over the top, though I could tell he was seriously considering it as well. Mmmm-mmmm.

When it came time for the bill, our lovely waitress wished us a happy birthday (I'm still not sure if she thought it was our birthday. Perhaps it was so obvious that we are the type of folks who never go out for a nice dinner except for on super special occasions. Who knows.) and thanked us for being such pleasant guests on what I guess was a really crappy night for her. And in thanks, we got our beignets free! Who could be rude to this beautiful waitress of ours? Silly them! And in return, we gave her a whopping big tip (and still have $30 left on our gift certificate ... BONUS!).

On the way home, we by the capitol building, only to find a security guard stomping in the snow. We could tell he was writing something with his feet. I was sure it was something along the lines of "F-U, Mr. Governor." I mean, that's what disgruntled security guards do when they are bored and alone in the freezing cold, right? I didn't want to stop and stare. But Mr. J yelled out to the guy, "So, are you Robinson?" Because that, in fact, is what the guy was writing. Mr. Security Guard laughed with glee and asked, "You can read this? That's great!!" Apparently, his boss, named Robinson, was sitting in the security room, monitoring the cameras, and this guy was writing a little "hello." It just cracked me up and made me happy that he actually seemed to be a nice (albeit utterly bored) guy without any angry hangups, at least not that night.

Then again, maybe this was just an absolutely normal thing to see and I was just high on sugar and butterscotch.

Fall and Friends

What a weekend! The rain started to roll in on Saturday. The first rain we have seen since June (well, not counting the rain I saw in the North Carolina or the fantastic torrential downpours we witnessed in the mountains of Costa Rica). There are still roses on our rose bushes, but most everything else is hunkering down for the fall. One maple has already turned a medley of oranges, reds, and yellows ... all on one leaf; while the other maple is starting to show hints of the brilliant red we were promised. The ash is almost bare, but the sweet gum is stubbornly holding onto its leaves, as it will do all winter.


In other words, fall is here! And I just found out that I have an autumn twin south of us in Colorado. I too am bundled up in sweater and furry shoes, sipping tea as I pay bills and file away paperwork. Nice to know I'm not alone in the joys of everyday life!

Our weekend was fabulous and a huge reminder of why we love where we live. Friday night was roasted chicken night with pals Ryan and Sid. They patiently waited as that stubborn bird took forever to cook. And they raved about it, even though I knew it was a little overcooked. My plot of starving them for an hour or more before eating worked!! :-) Saturday we cooked up a huge pot of stock and then transformed it into a Thai chicken soup and a cream of cauliflower soup, which we then shared with gal pals Judi and Sharki, with some leftovers going to poor, ailing Miss Z. And then yesterday was an Italian cooking frenzy as I whipped up two lasagnas for dinner party #3 ... the first lasagna was the traditional meat and sausage, while the other was a turkey mushroom lasagna that may be my new favorite (don't tell my mom, as the traditional one is her recipe, which I have loved and adored since I was able to enjoy lasagna). And each meal was supplemented with delicious homemade treats, including a pumpkin-chocolate-chip bread from Judi and divine homemade prosciutto and sausage from the Kramersteins.


Wonderful friends, good food, cool autumn weather, a muted rainbow of colors everywhere you look. Just what I want from our autumn in Boise.

Just Like Joaquin Phoenix ...

I'm still here.

There has been lots going on, but I've been in a pretty good frame of mind. And that usually means I neglect any kind of writing, introspection, blogging updates, etc. Funny how that works.

I'm on this crazy candida diet. I don't necessarily believe all the hype that says a buildup of yeast or bacteria or whatever causes all the woes of the world, from lethargy to impotence. But I do have annoying skin issues that no one seems to know a dang thing about. So now I'm trying out the latest salvo on my body to figure out what is causing it all. The upside of not eating any sugar, alcohol, bread, grain, beans, you name it, is that the pounds are finally dropping by the wayside. Plus I'm drinking way more water than ever (that tends to happen when every other liquid refreshment on the planet is banned), so I'm looking healthier and my little teenage style blemishes are finally clearing up. Huh. Who knew?

One more week to go.

The premise of the whole thing is that you cut out everything to clear out your system (I'm subsisting on meat, eggs, and veggies and lots of almonds in all shapes and forms). Then you slowly reintroduce foods to see if anything has a negative affect. And that theory all sounds fine and dandy.

The only issue is that as soon as these two weeks are over, we are hopping on a plane and heading south of the border to Costa Rica. Hooray!

So, I can guarantee that the slow re-introduction of things like beans, rice, and, oh, alcohol will be a little faster than the experts would agree to. Oh. ... and coffee!! Costa Rican coffee!! I cannot wait.

Anyway, it's probably not the best planning, but the whole Costa Rica thing wasn't finalized until after I started. So ... oh well.

And even though I may never figure out what is wrong with me and my innards, at least I might look a wee bit better in my bathing suit.

Other than not eating anything fun, life goes on as usual here. Work. Bike rides. Gym classes. Walks with the dog. Planting yet more trees. Knitting the never-ending baby blanket. Watching the apples ripen on our tree. Reveling in the cooler temperatures. Ignoring the news because it's just too dang depressing. You know ... Just life.

Hope your life is going just as well!

24 Hours to Go

The 22-day In-Law-A-Thon is nearing an end. I must admit that it has been easier than in the past. I am sure it has all to do with my occasional attitude adjustments (i.e., going to the gym, meeting a friend for coffee, meeting friends for a beer, beating my head against the wall), as they are just the same as they always are. Loving, kind, too-too generous people who just happen to drive me bonkers in the long term. Mr. J has also been ultra-helpful in aiding me along the path-of-least-resistance. In the short term, it really is the best alternative.

And now I am looking forward to getting a semblance of a routine back. It has been a non-stop eating fest for the past 3 weeks. And the trip out to Portland and Seattle put on serious poundage ... tasty poundage, but poundage nonetheless. We have been home for less than a week, and already we have chowed down on more fruits and veggies than we even considered during our entire 10 days away, when rich, creamy, hearty deliciousness seemed to be the way to go. I think my arteries are bowing own and thanking me. Or maybe that's just a minor stroke. One or the other ... it's got to be a move in the right direction.

So tomorrow I hit the mountain bike trails, and I know they are going to hit back ... hard. But I am ready.

OK, I'm not really ready at all.

But I have to start somewhere.

Right??

Just Stuff

It's been so long since I've bought whole 100% full-fat milk that I forget what it "acts" like. We have been soy drinkers or skim milk drinkers or whatever for so long now (Mr. J is mildly lactose intolerant ... boo hoo). And seeing as those products are mostly water, they don't usually hold very many surprises (not counting any surprises the processing of said beverages may create). But last time we went shopping, Mr. J bought the milk, and he does not pay attention to 1%, 2%, what-have-you. I think his criteria this time were price, recycle-ability of the container, and hormone-free/organic and all that. So we have this delicious full-fat yummy milk from a local dairy, provided in a fully-recyclable glass bottle. Joy!

However, the "expiration date" for said milk is 3/29, which is a full four days away (I believe those expiration dates as if they are set in stone and mandated by law). But today, when I went to make a tasty toasty Mexican-style hot cocoa, I noticed some scum on the side of the bottle. And when I poured the milk into the pot to heat it up, there was some slimy goo sitting on top. But it didn't smell bad, and I did not see any telltale clumps of badness. So I just stirred it up and attributed it all to the joys of minimally processed wholesome goodness. But now I'm admittedly a little hesitant to take that first sip. Already that hot cocoa slime is forming on the surface of my drink. Oh, the perils of modern life! What a dangerous life I lead!

********

On another note, it's a gorgeous spring day in Boise. A little smog has settled down here in the valley, but this morning's lovely 2-hour hike with friend Rhonda and the pooches got us up into the fresh air and out of the "fray" that is our little city on a Wednesday morning. I really need to remember how much I enjoy getting up early and moving and watching The Dog have such a blast (I love these "controlled off-leash trails" of ours). So assuming I don't die from some horrid milk disease, I'd say that this Hump Day is turning into quite the pleasant day (even if the rest of it will be spent here at this computer cleaning up a document on "very low-income loan obligations"...zzzzz).

Thoughtless Thursday

I thought it was Wordless Wednesday, but somehow I missed Wednesday (where did it go?). So instead I am instituting Thoughtless Thursday. Nothing really to say, so we'll let the pictures do the talking.

Here's what I am craving:

Two Posts in One Day?!

So, I often sit and ponder why I can't seem to drop these annoying 30 pounds that seem to have glommed onto me (through no fault of my own, of course) over the past 5 years. (And it has nothing to do with the fact that I do sit and ponder these things rather than getting out there and moving.)

Let me tell you about my day to see if you can help me figure this out:

First, all I had for breakfast was a watered-down smoothie--I only had a smoothie because we are pretty much out of food (I didn't make it to the grocery store yesterday), and it was watered down because our blender sucks and requires much too high of a liquid-to-solid ratio to make anything blend. But that's OK. I'm trying to be virtuous and good, and I can survive one morning on a watered-down smoothie.

Then Mr. J called from his business meeting to see if I wanted him to bring home a latte from the coffee shop. Now, a latte isn't that bad in and of itself, though I know he had it made with whole milk, because skim milk just isn't in his vocabulary. And I didn't add sugar. So that's all something. But I am trying to cut back on the caffeine. And yet after a week of herbal tea and water with lemon and honey, that latte was de.lish.ous! So I am not going to beat myself up about that.

Then, after a couple hours of work, I had to run some errands (including a much-needed grocery run). So I started off at Bed Bath and Beyond, where I had to return some stuff and then of course buy some stuff, And all this took way too long, so that I was starving by the time I was finally heading to the grocery store. And we all know that going to the grocery store on an empty stomach is bad news. (For me, this is not only because I will splurge on all the horribly bad stuff, but also because our local grocery store is a madhouse and I tend to get incredibly snarky and snappy at the people who just STOP in front of me or completely block the aisle as they analyze the contents and prices of every. damn. can on the shelf. Grrr.) Anyway, I knew this was all a very serious possibility, so I decided to stave off the snarkiness by stuffing my face with Arby's (I know ... gross). As I pulled up to the drive-through, I had every intention of just getting one measly little roast beef sandwich and maybe an unsweetened iced tea. Definitely no fries. But then I remembered about their curly fries. And then I saw roast beef with cheddar, which sounded weirdly appetizing. And then I saw the Dr Pepper, which I love, even though it leaves a really weird aftertaste in my mouth. So I totally caved and got a "roast beef" sandwich, curly fries, and a Dr Pepper. The sandwich was pathetic, and the cheddar wasn't even cheddar cheese; just some of that weird nacho cheese spread stuff (which I secretly like, but still, it's just not right). Of course I ate it all anyway. The curly fries were crisp and hot and yummy, even though I know that if I dropped one under my carseat (which I probably did) it would still be there, perfectly in tact, 5 years from now. And the Dr Pepper was ... Dr Pepper. The good news was that I was no longer hungry by the time I hit the grocery store. The bad news was that I ate at America's Roast Beef, Yes Sir.

My only redeeming grace of the day is that I spent a whopping $150 on veggies and fruit. So at least I know that in the coming days, I will be virtuous.

But wait, there's more. Tonight, I was invited to help a friend finish up her quilt (don't be impressed by me; all I did was stick in some pins and then help hold it all together while she ran it through the sewing machine; she, on the other hand, is a sewing queen). Then all the people who came to help were rewarded with an amazingly delicious dinner with appetizers, wine, yummmmmy food, AND a fabulous dessert. If I had known all this, I might have refrained from the absolutely disgusting Arby's lunch so then I wouldn't feel so bad. No, that's a lie. I knew there was going to be good food. I just didn't realize it would be so much and so good and so wonderful. Silly me. Don't get me wrong--I don't feel bad that I ate great food with wonderful new friends and lots of laughter. I do feel bad that I preceded that with my grease bomb of a lunch (which did come back to haunt me about halfway through dinner ... thank goodness for bathroom fans). And I really feel bad that I slept in this morning rather than squeezing in some kind of physical activity to relieve this haggard body of some of the pounds I keep adding on to it.

But tomorrow is another day, and now my fridge is stocked with all the makings of healthy, healthy food. And our next shin-dig isn't until next Tuesday (a whole week away), when we are having people over for our first "party" ... a Groundhog Day chili fest, where I have already found out that one of our other amazingly-good-cook friends is bringing jalapeno-cheddar-bacon cornbread. So ... where DO those pounds keep coming from??

Prepping

I actually don't have that much prepping to do at all. My sole contributions to tomorrow's big feast are a big vat of garlic mashed potatoes and some onion confit (a.k.a. caramelized onions) in place of cranberry sauce. I'm also throwing in a batch of chocolate chip peanut butter cookies, just cuz. We did the shopping last night. Tonight we cook. And tomorrow we just reheat everything once we arrive at H's parents' house. Easy Peasy!

But it's this holiday and the next that always make me a little homesick, especially as my folks came out for a couple very memorable, very tasty Turkey Days down in Denver. Planning the menu, organizing the house so we could fit all 20 people, doing the shopping, preparing the food, all over glasses of wine (well except maybe for the shopping) and lots of laughter. Good times, indeed. But this is our first Thanksgiving here, and we are just establishing our connections. Our roots are very shallow. If I think back to our first Thanksgiving in Denver, I can remember our roots were just as shallow. I just didn't realize it. It was just us and two friends, who flew out from California, loaded down with a huge shopping bag of goodies from Trader Joe's (oh, how I miss them!--the friends and Trader Joe's). I don't even know if we made a turkey or what we ate. But I still remember the laughter and the good times. And I know that no matter what, we will always have that, no matter where we are. And I am eternally thankful for that.