I've fallen in love with cherries the last few weeks. Prior to this year, I may have only eaten them fresh once or twice - typically, if the hankering came round, I'd find myself a nice can of mixed fruit, or - worse - a jar of maraschinos and go to town. (Maraschinos aren't a type of cherry, by the way. They are called so for the liqueur in which they are preserved. Royal Ann or Gold cherries are typically used for this dessert-topping delight).
The cherries I've been swallowing are simply called Sweet Cherries, per their bag, and I'm delighted to discover that they were harvested in the USA. I've learned that the US is the second-largest producer of cherries in the world, beneath Turkey, of all places. Up until this moment in my life, I thought that nearly all cherries derived from trees first cultivated in Japan. I expect that I thought this in part because I grew up not so far from Washington, D.C., and have heard more than once about the famous cherry blossom trees that line the Tidal Basin (a gift from the Emperor of Japan in 1912). However, cherries don't come from cherry blossom trees. Go figure.
I don't know why I didn't eat cherries in my youth. Perhaps because they are somewhat expensive. Most of the fruits of my childhood were grown locally, and my mother found ways to preserve them infinitely. The exception to the rule was peaches. We always, always had peaches. I think because my dad liked my mom's peach jam.
The pit of a cherry puzzles me. It's not really in the center of a cherry, at least not all of the time. And, it's not called a pit by most - but a stone (it is a stone fruit, like a peach - see the foreshadowing in the previous paragraph). Don't try to bite into it because you'll chip a tooth. Lord forbid you try to rid your mouth of the stone politely - one ends up appearing as a cowboy aiming for a spittoon. Still, it is a lovely fruit, and one I suggest you buy in spades if your market is having a sale.
Some stores sell cherry stoners, by the way. I think that sounds funny, and it makes me want Cherry Garcia ice cream all the more.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Cheaper by the (un)Dozen
In an effort to consolidate my shopping this morning, I decided to buy some groceries at Target (not a successful consolidation, as our Target - unlike those fantastic behemoths of the north, is a glorified convenience store when it comes to food). I was, however, grateful to find eggs. I was also grateful to find picnic/soda bins on clearance (in red!), and so in an effort to be environmentally friendlier, I asked the nice checkout lady to pack my scant items into the bin. And, she did so... until she came to the eggs.
"I'll just put these eggs into a bag to keep them from cracking." And then she put them in a plastic bag, which she placed on top of the groceries in the soda bin. Now, had I been bagging my groceries alone, I'd have put the eggs in the top of the soda bin. I suppose, though, that this nice checkout lady thought that the plastic bag served as some super-barrier for the eggs.
Alas, she thought incorrect, since as I put the bin the back of my car, I set the (too heavy) bin down to hard and the eggs practically hopped out, opened, and promptly cracked up with laughter at our joint foolishness. Well, not all of them cracked up. 7 of them were too upset to even smile, thankfully.
"I'll just put these eggs into a bag to keep them from cracking." And then she put them in a plastic bag, which she placed on top of the groceries in the soda bin. Now, had I been bagging my groceries alone, I'd have put the eggs in the top of the soda bin. I suppose, though, that this nice checkout lady thought that the plastic bag served as some super-barrier for the eggs.
Alas, she thought incorrect, since as I put the bin the back of my car, I set the (too heavy) bin down to hard and the eggs practically hopped out, opened, and promptly cracked up with laughter at our joint foolishness. Well, not all of them cracked up. 7 of them were too upset to even smile, thankfully.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
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?
Just kidding. Who wouldn't buy a kid a puppy after seeing these photos?
Thursday, December 04, 2008
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...
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...
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
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?)
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?)
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