Unresolved

No matter what time this ends up being posted, it's important for you to know that I started writing at 4:20 AM. That is not to say that I just woke up and started writing. Hardly. No, DH had to get up for work, and I woke up right before his alarm went off.... at 2:15.

I've read through my Google Reader (twice), checked GMail (twice), and read through the very few interesting stories on FoxNews. If I can't sleep after I post this, I will probably read Miss Manners.

Most nights, I sleep better than this. I'm blaming my insomnia on my environment. That is, a twin mattress in the floor of my soon to be ex-rental house. It should have been an ex a week ago; alas, we still do not have a closing date. Our belongings are packed and moved (not into the new house; just moved). Save, of course, the random odds and ends that plague every mover - and anyone who has moved understands this. As my eyes wander around the room, I see a lamp, the printer we needed for whatever reason, the shelves DH didn't take down yet, a cake stand and cookie rack, some paperwork, blah blah blah.

A new year's celebration is about reflecting (backward) and hoping & planning (forward). I'm trying not to judge myself to harshly this morning, but I'm not entirely happy with the progress of 2008. Work-wise, I think that my team has made steady progression toward some goals, but I can't think of any bright, shining moments. Many of my team members have faced setbacks of either a personal or professional nature (we'll call them growing pangs and learning experiences). I wish we could take some time off, mentally, but this is going to be the most difficult quarter yet as we prepare for some major transitions.

Personally-professionally, I'm still not quite where I want to be. I found out right before Christmas that my proposal to speak at a national academic conference has been accepted - more on that later, I'm sure - and it's great to finally highlight my work and the work of my team. And, I think that our topic - library teaching & assessment, generally - shines a light on a best practice that should be adopted by most, if not all, academic libraries. However, this is an academic conference, not a library conference, so it will be at least several more months before I publish and speak on this topic to my own peers outside of my institution.

Boy does this post sound like a downer. I need to quit blogging so early in the morning.

The Oxford English Dictionary lists 2 definitions for Resolution: 1) a state of dissolution or decay; and 2) the process by which a material thing is reduced or separated into its component parts or elements; a result of this. I like both definitions. The first because I feel like many parts of my life are in some form of decay (my body is at the top of the list; even though I am only 28, I have aged my body through, shall we say, over-indulgence). And of course, there are many elements in dissolution: the house, where my career path is heading at my workplace, and so on.

The second definition, however, is more hopeful. To me, it says that a resolution is not an all-encompassing thing. I don't have to solve a crisis or make life-altering decisions or changes, or define unreasonable, unattainable goals. I can reduce a challenge into its element - it's "raw material". I like this approach. It's fresh, and it lightens what would normally be a tremendous burden that we place on ourselves (at this time of year, at the time of our annual review, after a life-altering experience, etc.).

With no further ado. Resolved:

1. I resolve to take better care of my body. That means taking all of my medicine, eating less and eating better, being less of a davenport tater, and drinking more water and less Pepsi. (I loves me my Pepsi).

2. I resolve to sleep more. Starting in like 10 minutes, I hope.

3. I resolve to call more and e-mail less.

4. I resolve to get help when I need it - at work, at home, and psychologically.

5. I resolve to send birthday and holiday cards on time. Ok, I resolve to send birthday and holiday cards after I buy them.

6. I resolve to not base my organizational, baking, and craft-y worth on the airbrushed, painstakingly designed photos in the likes of Good Housekeeping, Martha Stewart, etc.

7. I resolve to be more friendly to my environment.

8. I resolve not to overdo "it" - potluck is my new word for 2009.


Happy New Year, everyone.

Shameless Child Labor!

Another example of a cute kid being used to sell a product.

Just kidding. Who wouldn't buy a kid a puppy after seeing these photos?

The Sleeping Habits of Felines

Cats know how to nap. They have elevated the quick snooze into a fine and delicate art. Take our Oatmeal, for example (DH named her, not me). She has a morning ritual of waking DH up around 3:45, after his first alarm goes off. She'll jump on him, walk on his head, and normally lay down beside him, knitting until she either falls asleep or he wakes up. For those not familiar with felines, a cat knits by digging claws into the flesh in a methodical, repetitive pattern, sort of like testing a pillow to make sure that it is soft. It's painful.

So painful, in fact, that she's not allowed to do it to me anymore. If she begins to knit, I just kick her off the bed, or couch, or wherever we might be being lazy at the time. Not literally kick. That would be mean.

Back to napping. Cats have the right idea. They are supremely invested in their own comfort, they are happy before they nap and when they wake up, and they do it in short bursts, to remain fresh throughout the day. How can one who has slept most of the night then take a nap at 7:30? Ask Oatmeal. This morning, she jumps on my head (I don't even need an alarm, thank you), walks down my back and lays right in front of me. I wrap my arm around her like I'm holding a pillow, she rests her chin on my propped up elbow, and purrs for about 3 minutes before she falls asleep for 15. Then, she wakes up, purring, and jumps down to take a bath in her water bowl (she's odd) and find every toy in the house.

Why can't we all take 20 minute naps, play in our water bowls, and then play with our toys? Perhaps in my next life...

Thanksgiving: The Aftermath

I haven't blogged in a month because I've been planning for Thanksgiving for a month (among other things; more on that later). I had initially planned to do this whole before-and-after series in the style of Anderson Cooper (I love you. Marry me. Really). However, things happen the way that they always do, so I'm writing about it now, more like the second graders who do the news report before classes start over the intercom.

I cannot even blame the DH for this one, although he will certainly be held accountable for his minor role. For you see, I was the one who said "we're going to do Turducken".

For those of you who are not avid readers of foodie blogs, or have never seen Paula Dean's Thanksgiving episode (no one plays cards like that. no one.), a Turducken is a chicken inside of a duck inside of a turkey, with stuffing in between each layer. While this idea has been attributed to many chefs, Chef Paul Prudhomme is generally credited for its creation. The finished pictures of a good looking Turducken are quite a sight, really, for the avid carnivore. And of course, there are modern variations with tofu, unpronounceable bacon-wrapped monstrosities, etc.

This was to be a simple task. Get a turkey, duck, and chicken. Make some stuffing. Stuff stuffing in turkey, duck and chicken; then stuff chicken inside of duck inside of turkey. Roast for a very long time.

Did I mention that all three birds needed to be deboned? And that most of the recipes suggest 12 HOURS for roasting time?

Deboning, piece of cake. In fact, DH and I got TWO chickens from Sam's just so we could practice. One night before Thanksgiving around 10 pm, he says to me "let's watch a video and learn how to debone the chicken". Ok, so we did that. We watched three videos, as a matter of fact. Feeling quite confident, we marched into the kitchen. I said "I'll debone it, since I'll probably have to do it for real anyway". And he said "great, I'll supervise".

(Imagine, dear reader, a great wall of silence here. Followed by me tightening my grip around the knife until my fingers went white).

Perhaps this part of the story would be best left out, but the deboning was not pretty. We mutilated that poor chicken. If it could have picked up its innards and made a run for it, I'm sure we'd have seen it dashing out the door. I tried to cut but ended up slicing through meat. DH decided to step in and "fix it". I slammed the knife down and cursed. Lots. And then I left. We ate homemade chicken nuggets for dinner. As DH cleaned his plate, he says quite casually "maybe someone else should debone the birds." YOU THINK?

So I called the high-end grocery store about 40 miles north (because there is not much high end in "Slocala") and asked them. Nope, they don't debone. Or, maybe they did, but I couldn't understand the butcher's broken English, so that was that. Butcher two, no dice, and so on. Five places I called. Now, I panic, because I've told PEOPLE that we are having Turducken. And I can't let PEOPLE down. Finally, I call Publix, our local average grocery store chain. And of course, they'll do it, for free. I love Publix.

So we pick up the birds a few days before, to brine them. And not only has the butcher deboned them, but he did so from the inside out. He basically took the skin and meat off like a sleeve, not cutting the birds at all. If I ever decide on a hobby, I totally want to learn how to do that. Or not, that sounds a little psycho.

So, tis the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house, it's crammed with cans and veggies and potatoes and bread and decorations and boxes of stock and juice and you name it. I had my own grocery store in the dining room. So I started on a few of the sides (we ended up with 8 total, I think) and then I made the first stuffing (because we can't just use one stuffing. Oh no. That would be sane. Three different stuffings. Soooooo stupid). And then we prepare to stuff.

I've never really stuffed a bird before. I mean, I've put a little stuffing in, but usually with a spoon. Spoons do not really maneuver well inside of a duck inside of a turkey. No matter how many pictures you see of a Turducken online, they NEVER show you a girl freaked by raw poultry juices with her arm stuck halfway inside of three birds. It was vulgar.

As soon as the bird was in the oven, I went to bed. We decided to roast it in the oven overnight (about 6 hours) and then smoke it for the other 6 on the big grill. Of course, when we got up in the morning, it was done.

Done.

And so am I. Dinner went fine. The family only drove me a little crazy, but my favorite aunt-in-law and best friend helped me with the dishes, and everything but the pecan pie came out well. Even the turducken.

Would you like to know what we are having for Christmas?

Ham sandwiches.

My Version of Tim Gunn's Guide to Style

Let me clarify up front that I love Tim Gunn. He's like a man version of Miss Manners. Who doesn't love a man with impeccable taste?

However, I must confess: I'm not the most fashion forward. I don't always see the sense in some of Tim's reasonable instructions. With no further ado, I give you:

Emily's 10 Essential Items

- Little black bra with a wire poking out
- Fleece hoodie
- Off-black pleated bicycle pants (the ones that wrap tight at your ankles)
- Slightly gray tshirt that has hit the wash with towels too many times
- Jean shorts
- Cashmere? Are you kidding? Rayon-nylon blend, baby!
- Skirt-culottes
- Moo-Moo, a cotton robe, and bunny slippers
- Sweat suit. Hanes Her Way, Walmart

(Second confession: these are not really my ten essentials. However, I did buy a sweatshirt this week. Does this put me in the running for Tim's assistance?)

484

My mother is coming to visit this weekend. She'll be here on Friday afternoon and is leaving on Tuesday. I had planned on getting everything ready for her on Friday afternoon, but then I volunteered to teach Junior Achievement to a group of second graders. So... I have tonight and tomorrow to get everything ready.

The house is more or less cleaned up, which is good. However, we don't have a guest bed. Guest mattresses, yes, but no box springs. So that has been a bit of a concern. Not that my mother wouldn't sleep on the couch (and honestly, it's more comfortable than any mattress in the house), but nobody wants to say "I made my mom sleep on the couch".

So imagine my excitement (or don't, because I'm telling you about it) when I saw a twin bed set on Craigslist for $25. I'm a huge friend of Craigslist because it relies mainly on folks being honest and harkens (what a word) back to the days of barter. This is a very good deal for a bed, so I swooped in and grabbed it up.

When DH came home from work, we immediately set out to pick up the bed. I was at least smart enough to clean up the car before he got home. We put the address into the nav system and drove down to Highway 484. And drove. And drove. The roads were pretty familiar - until we hit dirt. And kept driving on dirt. This was serious off-roading. DH called the woman again who explained that she just moved in so she didn't really know the roads around her house, but she had a white trailer with red shutters (we passed no less than seven of these in a three mile strip). So we finally got to her house, where we both observed that she'd transposed the house number in her e-mail.

So we pulled the bed out of the house and stuck it in the car and headed out on our merry way. I tried to ignore that she had three cats in the house and four dogs outside yipping like mad to get back into the house as we were leaving. I could not, however, ignore the smell. The mattress smelled. Imagine age and wood smoke (or cigarette smoke) and must and age. Yup. Smelled.

The bright side to the next piece of the drive was that we happened to be near some folks who sell duck eggs, and we got 18 eggs for $2 bucks. Unbelievable deal. From there we had about a two mile drive to WalMart to grab a few items. I begged DH to drive to the back of the store to dump the mattress - because all we needed was the box spring(s), and I couldn't take the smell. I learned that WalMart has no dumpster - their compacter is attached to the back of the store. Go figure.

So we got our stuff, which always turns out being more stuff than the stuff that we went in for in the first place. So we come out and it's 8pm and almost dark and I beg DH to drive over to the gas station to dump the mattress. And he says no because there are too many lights. So I say go to the Denny's and dump it. And he says do you not see the lights? And I say yes I see the lights but who cares? And he says that he doesn't want to get arrested for dumping the mattress.

Ok. So we drive around to the back of Beall's dept store. And it's dark and DH is driving like 10 miles an hour scoping all around talking about all of the security cameras. And then he parks in a shadow and jumps out and hauls out the mattress and throws it BEHIND the dumpster (isn't that littering)? And as he does so a car drives by on a road by the dumpster. That was really funny. And as we leave I ask him if he took the tags off the mattress too, because if so they'll double his jail sentence.

I WON!

I won the chili contest. I will admit that I was pretty surprised. One person made a mole sauce as her base, another used corn and other concoctions... 9 contestants total. I came out on top with 4 whoppin votes. Which is not that many, considering there were like 25 people in the room. But a few of them didn't vote (including myself - because if I had I would have had 5 votes. I'm not afraid to vote for myself. It was good food).

So what they didn't tell us before this whole thing started was that we have to take our ingredients to the site and make the chili there. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I don't cook well under pressure and I don't want all these people coming up asking how things are going. It might be fun, though. And if I win? WOO HOO! You'll never hear the end of it.

Chili, Part II (subtitle: Hell hath no fury)

I make darn good chili. I honestly think that this stuff could win. It feels good in the mouth - the different meats give it texture and flavor, and you can taste the "southwest" - cumin, cilantro, oregano. Then, you swallow, and BAM! The heat rises fast and urgent in the back of the throat, sits for a minute, and then gently fades. It rules.

The problem is that I didn't measure most of the herbs. I just kind of... put them in. So I'll need to remember what everything looked like should I need to make it once again for the final competition (for Junior Achievement).

The picture is slightly deceiving. I did not make the chili in the slow cooker. It's only being used as a warming carafe until this afternoon. Although, undoubtedly, the chili will taste better then since it's had all morning to meld.

Recipe:
Chop 1 and a 1/2 red onions and 1 head of garlic very fine. Set aside.
Brown 8 oz. of medium-heat pork sausage in 2 Tbl. corn oil in a large saute pan(I used one with straight edges). Drain and set aside.
Split 3 lb. of stew meat into 1/3 and 2/3. Cut 1/3 into small, bite size pieces. Grind the other until almost hamburger, removing any large fatty or gristle pieces (I used my food processor for this). Brown all meat in 2 Tbl corn oil. Drain and set aside.
Finely chop 2 strips of thick cut bacon and cook in same skillet until brown. Remove but reserve grease in the pan. Add in onion and garlic, stirring frequently until onions are cooked through. Move onion/garlic mixture into your chili pot.
Deglaze your pan with Patron. Do not partake if you are making the chili before 12pm.
Process bacon until crumbled. Add all meats into the chili pot. Add in one box of beef broth (Swanson's low-sodium), one large can of tomato sauce and one large can of pureed tomatoes (yes, there is a difference). Stir and bring to a boil.
Using your food processor with blade, chop finely 2 jalapeno and 2 arbol peppers, with seeds. Keep your hands and eyes away from the finished product. Add to chili pot and reduce the chili to a simmer for about an hour.
Tip: when you are ready for the next step, pull the lid off toward you so that you shield your face from both the steam and the "heat".
Add 3 heaping tablespoons of cumin; 2 tablespoons of dried cilantro; 2 tablespoons of dried oregano, 2 tablespoons of chili powder, and a heavy dash of red pepper flakes. Stir in thoroughly. Insert three bay leaves around the pot, replace the lid, and simmer for at least 1/2 hour more.
Remove the lid and add 2 Tablespoons of brown sugar and the juice of one lime. Salt to taste.

Chili, Part I

I promise you that this will not become a food blog. There are many excellent food blogs (read: people who do nothing but cook, eat and type) out there. I don't cook enough to be one of those people. Honestly, we eat Chef B at least 3 days a week.

Today, however, is the chili contest at work. Woo Hoo! I love chili. Well, at least, I love my mother's version of chili. When I was a child, my sisters and I got to eat whatever we wanted on our birthdays. It was the one day a year that we got to pick the meal. My middle sister always picked lasagna (what she considers lasagna; she hates ricotta cheese). My youngest sister picked hot dogs and macaroni cheese or pizza. She still picks it, actually, nearly every day.

I, on the other hand, had a much more refined palate. Corn dogs and chili. Yep, you read it right. I LOVE corn dogs. Don't ask me why, but I've never been a fan of the white bun. Fair corn dogs are the best because the cornbread is nice and crispy and the dog is nice a steamy. When I was a kid, I'd squirt ketchup on my plate in a big pile and then I'd put mustard on top and mix it around like I was Degas. Now, I eat them plain.

I don't have my mother's recipe for chili. I know that she used tomato sauce that she canned during the summer, as well as kidney beans and meat and a few other goodies. I hated canning season, and for the longest time, tomatoes: the kitchen always smelled like a tomato exploded (and, if the burner was left too high, it usually had). My aunt would give us a bushel of tomatoes and my mother would blanch them and peel them and then pulverize them through her old-fashioned, hand-operated meat grinder. That was the fun part: watching the big, juicy tomatoes go in and a mess of seeds and juice and tomato meat come out. Mom made spaghetti sauce and tomato sauce (there may not have been a difference) and salsa, and we ate it all throughout the winter in various forms. One year she burned the spaghetti sauce . And we at it all throughout the winter in various forms. That was a bad winter.

So now it is 4:51am EST and I am without my mother's chili recipe. Which may not be a bad thing since this is supposed to be "professional chili" without beans (do real people eat chili without beans, seriously?). I've scoured the internet for decent chili recipes and then manipulated them to be my own, based on the ingredients that I can work with and have available (we are shopping at Winn Dixie, not Fresh Market).

Part I is complete and simmering on the stove for a couple of hours. Once it has simmered I'll add in the rest of the ingredients. At least, that is the plan. If it turns out good you can have the recipe.