I really like to cook.
Oh, I can be lured by convenience food as much as anyone, especially lately. But there is something really satisfying about pulling ingredients out of the cupboard or refrigerator and combining them into a new whole.
I have had 3 primary cooking teachers in my life. First was my mom. From her, I learned how to read recipes and measure ingredients properly. She also taught me how to make a basic cream sauce and some other fundamentals of cooking. Those fundamentals have given me the base to do everything else.
My Grandma Sophie taught me some favorite recipes, including sausage gravy and biscuits. Seriously, I think mine is better than Bob Evan's. I loved to watch her bake. My sister Becky learned her method of making apple pie, and then put her own touches on it to make it her own. Pastry scares me, but I learned how to make her fudge icing and homemade chocolate pudding pie. I just use a store bought or graham cracker crust. ;-)
My dad did most of the daily cooking when I was growing up. Mom did the big holiday meals. From him, I learned how to experiment. He is known for claiming that something is Secret Recipe #7344. Oftentimes, he just made creative use of pantry staples, and some of those recipes are family favorites today.
Mom, Dad, and Grandma allowed us kids to watch and to help. We layered the lasagne and mixed the meatloaf mixture. We stirred the cream sauce so it wouldn't scald while Mom worked on something else. Grandma let us make cinnamon cookies out of the scraps of pastry dough, and we helped slice the apples. Mom and Dad also trusted us in the kitchen fairly early. I know I was making my own grilled cheese and fried eggs on the stove by the time I was 7 or 8, and baking cookies on my own by age 10. The main rule was that we had to clean up our mess, a rule we broke often.
As an adult, I have created some of my own recipes out of my head. Kale with apples and onions and Kris' pasta with fungus sauce are two of them. I also am fond of adapting recipes that I find in cookbooks. Thus, I have my famous black bean soup recipe. Tonight, I adapted a recipe I found on the internet and created a new tasty dish that will provide me lunches for the next week.
I remember teaching my niece Karolyn how to make homemade pancakes when she was 12 and staying overnight at my place. My other nieces and nephews like to help too, so I have had them help me make cookies or candy. I don't have children of my own, but I do my best to help pass on the cooking tradition in our family.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
caramel corn
I made some today. It is yummy. It's a good thing that it is going with me to a movie night tonight so that I can make other people help me eat it. :)
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The Unicorn Song
A favorite song from my childhood, written by Shel Silverstein. This version is sung by the Irish Rovers and "illustrated" by some random YouTube contributor.
Monday, September 22, 2008
my runniversary
Three years ago today, I took my first baby steps to becoming a runner. 60 seconds of running alternated with 90 seconds of walking, for 20 min total not including a warm-up and cool-down walk.
Those who have known me for a long time know what a big deal that was back then.
Since that time, I have officially run 1671.4 miles, but the real total would be more as there are a number of runs during that time where I measured only by time and not distance. The real total probably tops 1700 miles. For reference, Boston to Key West is 1657 miles.
Those who have known me for a long time know what a big deal that was back then.
Since that time, I have officially run 1671.4 miles, but the real total would be more as there are a number of runs during that time where I measured only by time and not distance. The real total probably tops 1700 miles. For reference, Boston to Key West is 1657 miles.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
change in plans
Autumn is the busiest time of year at my job. Probably the same is true for any university employee, but particularly so for the academic advisors who have to guide the new first-year students, teach the required "intro to college class", and also see the returning students who want to plan out the entire year. From just before the start of classes (i.e. this week) until at least after Thanksgiving if not finals week in December, it is a non-stop express.
I had plans to take a class this autumn. Last autumn, I took a fun class about science fiction literature. I loved the course. And I swore I'd never take an autumn class again. It was just too much. In the evenings when I wanted to relax, I had to keep up on my reading and assignments, which really were not too much for a literature course. Plus, with the class taking out part of my workday, I lost time that I could be doing my work and thus either skipped lunches or stayed late to get everything done. The craziness even affected my training for the Philadelphia half-marathon, I was too tired in the evenings after work to get in my weekday runs.
But then I got this idea in my head that I might want to apply to our MA program in women's studies. I talked with a professor in the program about it, and she looked over my undergrad and graduate transcripts and suggested I take this class to help me get stronger in theory. I also knew that I needed this class to help me answer one key question: do I like this subject enough to want to do a graduate degree in it? So in May, I signed up for the class with an eye to apply by Dec 31 for autumn 2009 admission.
Since that time, several things happened to make me rethink that strategy. In my office, the advisors are grouped into teams who are responsible for a specific set of majors. Due to people leaving and not yet being replaced, my team is currently down 3 people and soon possibly a 4th. Did I mention how crazy last autumn was when I tried to take a class? Yeah, we were at full staff at that time.
I also started thinking about the why of my interest in graduate work. So far, my best reason is why not? Which is really not a reason at all. I do not need another masters degree. I am not particularly interested in pursuing a Ph.D. I like my women's studies courses, but I can take them without working toward a degree, if only at the undergraduate level. So I had already started thinking that I would not apply to the program for 2009, but take the year to decide if I want to do it for real and figure out better reasons why if I do. And if I find those reasons and decide to go for it, I would apply for 2010.
I still did not want to quite give up on the class without a bit more information, even though I no longer needed to take it this autumn (I can take it in spring instead) and despite knowing that my quarter is going to be crazy. I e-mailed the professor to see if she would be willing to send me a draft of her syllabus before classes start this week. I received it on Thursday. Just as I suspected, it was going to be a lot of work, much more than my class last autumn. Lots of reading, a major paper, three exams, etc.
The deciding factor? The exams are take-home, where she emails the questions on Saturday and you turn them in on Monday. The first exam is the same weekend that I will be running my next half-marathon and having fun in general with friends in Grand Rapids, MI.
I dropped my class and will take it in the spring instead.
I had plans to take a class this autumn. Last autumn, I took a fun class about science fiction literature. I loved the course. And I swore I'd never take an autumn class again. It was just too much. In the evenings when I wanted to relax, I had to keep up on my reading and assignments, which really were not too much for a literature course. Plus, with the class taking out part of my workday, I lost time that I could be doing my work and thus either skipped lunches or stayed late to get everything done. The craziness even affected my training for the Philadelphia half-marathon, I was too tired in the evenings after work to get in my weekday runs.
But then I got this idea in my head that I might want to apply to our MA program in women's studies. I talked with a professor in the program about it, and she looked over my undergrad and graduate transcripts and suggested I take this class to help me get stronger in theory. I also knew that I needed this class to help me answer one key question: do I like this subject enough to want to do a graduate degree in it? So in May, I signed up for the class with an eye to apply by Dec 31 for autumn 2009 admission.
Since that time, several things happened to make me rethink that strategy. In my office, the advisors are grouped into teams who are responsible for a specific set of majors. Due to people leaving and not yet being replaced, my team is currently down 3 people and soon possibly a 4th. Did I mention how crazy last autumn was when I tried to take a class? Yeah, we were at full staff at that time.
I also started thinking about the why of my interest in graduate work. So far, my best reason is why not? Which is really not a reason at all. I do not need another masters degree. I am not particularly interested in pursuing a Ph.D. I like my women's studies courses, but I can take them without working toward a degree, if only at the undergraduate level. So I had already started thinking that I would not apply to the program for 2009, but take the year to decide if I want to do it for real and figure out better reasons why if I do. And if I find those reasons and decide to go for it, I would apply for 2010.
I still did not want to quite give up on the class without a bit more information, even though I no longer needed to take it this autumn (I can take it in spring instead) and despite knowing that my quarter is going to be crazy. I e-mailed the professor to see if she would be willing to send me a draft of her syllabus before classes start this week. I received it on Thursday. Just as I suspected, it was going to be a lot of work, much more than my class last autumn. Lots of reading, a major paper, three exams, etc.
The deciding factor? The exams are take-home, where she emails the questions on Saturday and you turn them in on Monday. The first exam is the same weekend that I will be running my next half-marathon and having fun in general with friends in Grand Rapids, MI.
I dropped my class and will take it in the spring instead.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
a SPY!!
I just found a teeny spider had built a web on my kitchen counter in front of my toaster oven. It was not there yesterday. The conspirators clearly found out about my earlier blog post and sent this one in for a little reconnaissance work.
Spiders. They're everywhere, I tell ya!
Spiders. They're everywhere, I tell ya!
The Great Spider Conspiracy
I do not like spiders.
I would not classify my dislike as a phobia, it's not as intense as that. If I see them outside, I leave them alone. If I see them in my house, but they are quietly hanging out in some quiet corner somewhere, I leave them alone. But if they are crawling anywhere near me, or are in my bedroom anywhere, they die. I am not that humane.
The summer after my sophomore year of college, I sublet my brother's apartment so I could keep my college job and take a class instead of going home for the summer. He was doing summer stock theatre and lived on-site at the theatre so it worked out for him too, since my parents paid the rent and I paid the electric, gas, and phone bills. His apartment was a ground floor apartment whereby the eye-level windows were grass-level outside. That summer, these huge garden spiders kept getting into the apartment. They were light brown with black markings, and their primary color was the exact same color as the carpet in the apartment. I could only see them when they were moving. Ugh. More than once, I caught one creeping up on me, but a little spider spray around the windows seemed to keep them at bay so I did not have to kill so many. For the record, my brother swears he never saw a single spider in the 3-4 years he lived there.
Fast forward to 2006. September.
Three times that month, I found 1-2 cm sized jet-black spiders crawling on my dashboard. While I was driving. Twice while I was at highway speeds. I am surprised that I did not crash my car into someone else as a result of my violent startle response. Fortunately, all 3 times, I was able to remove my shoe and smush said spider.
By the 3rd instance, it got to be almost funny except for, well, the spider part. So I told my coworkers and friends that it was a spider conspiracy against me. One of my coworkers, now retired, played a joke on me. She snuck into my office one night and taped a little paper decoration on my computer monitor, which is a line of spiders. She also put a plastic spider ring of the kind you might get while trick-or-treating in my keyboard. I still have them both, the ring hanging from a pushpin on my bulletin board and the border taped to my monitor, edges curling over now.
This week, while driving to work, I noticed something.
There has been another spider in my car. It spun a web against my windshield a few days ago. The silk strands are delicate and not too densely packed together. But it spreads out across nearly the whole thing, and I see it mocking me when the sunlight catches it. I keep forgetting to wipe it away when I get out of the car, and I can't reach it easily from my seat. I have yet to see the architect of this little monument.
But I am sure it is all part of the Great Spider Conspiracy against me.
I would not classify my dislike as a phobia, it's not as intense as that. If I see them outside, I leave them alone. If I see them in my house, but they are quietly hanging out in some quiet corner somewhere, I leave them alone. But if they are crawling anywhere near me, or are in my bedroom anywhere, they die. I am not that humane.
The summer after my sophomore year of college, I sublet my brother's apartment so I could keep my college job and take a class instead of going home for the summer. He was doing summer stock theatre and lived on-site at the theatre so it worked out for him too, since my parents paid the rent and I paid the electric, gas, and phone bills. His apartment was a ground floor apartment whereby the eye-level windows were grass-level outside. That summer, these huge garden spiders kept getting into the apartment. They were light brown with black markings, and their primary color was the exact same color as the carpet in the apartment. I could only see them when they were moving. Ugh. More than once, I caught one creeping up on me, but a little spider spray around the windows seemed to keep them at bay so I did not have to kill so many. For the record, my brother swears he never saw a single spider in the 3-4 years he lived there.
Fast forward to 2006. September.
Three times that month, I found 1-2 cm sized jet-black spiders crawling on my dashboard. While I was driving. Twice while I was at highway speeds. I am surprised that I did not crash my car into someone else as a result of my violent startle response. Fortunately, all 3 times, I was able to remove my shoe and smush said spider.
By the 3rd instance, it got to be almost funny except for, well, the spider part. So I told my coworkers and friends that it was a spider conspiracy against me. One of my coworkers, now retired, played a joke on me. She snuck into my office one night and taped a little paper decoration on my computer monitor, which is a line of spiders. She also put a plastic spider ring of the kind you might get while trick-or-treating in my keyboard. I still have them both, the ring hanging from a pushpin on my bulletin board and the border taped to my monitor, edges curling over now.
This week, while driving to work, I noticed something.
There has been another spider in my car. It spun a web against my windshield a few days ago. The silk strands are delicate and not too densely packed together. But it spreads out across nearly the whole thing, and I see it mocking me when the sunlight catches it. I keep forgetting to wipe it away when I get out of the car, and I can't reach it easily from my seat. I have yet to see the architect of this little monument.
But I am sure it is all part of the Great Spider Conspiracy against me.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
A different ring story
A few weeks ago, I wrote about my new ring. A few minutes ago, I read a post on a friend's blog about an antique piece of furniture and how it came into her hands. It reminded me that I have another ring story to tell.
I was named after my great-grandmother Rose, as Rose is my middle name. Rose was my mom's maternal grandmother. She was the 1st of what is now 5 generations of college-educated women in my family. She earned a BFA in music from Ohio Normal University, now Ohio Northern University in Ada, Ohio. I have her music cabinet and some of her old music books, including one that she inscribed with "Rose T. S------, Ada, O. O.N.U. 1905."
Grandma Rose married much later than was common at the time. I cannot find the date that she and Grandpa Archie were married, but I know she did not have my grandmother until she was 36 years old and my great-uncle two years later. Guess I am not the first "old maid" of the family. ;-) When she died, my grandmother inherited her engagement ring.
At some point during my early childhood, my grandmother gave my mom that ring, on the condition that it eventually be given to me, as I was (at the time) my great-grandmother's only namesake. When I was little, my mom would sometimes allow me to try on the ring but I knew it was not a toy and that it would be a long time before I would get it. I always assumed it would come to me upon my mom's own passing, and I am clearly interested in that event being delayed as long as possible.
When I gained all my weight over the years, the ring gradually did not fit me any longer. My mom once had it resized from a size 5 to it's present approximate size 6 but there was not enough metal to resize it any larger beyond that. I could barely fit it on my pinky finger, and for a long time, I thought it would be something that I would eventually simply keep in my jewelry box but never be able to wear.
And then I started losing weight. At some point along the way, I think when I had lost about 100 lbs, my mom told me that once the ring fit me, she would give it to me.
Wow.
It was a weird thought at first, actually. As I said, I had always figured I'd get it after my mom died. I wasn't sure I was ready for the ring, in part because my parents are already in their 60's and so it reminded me that my parents are not immortal. Most of my grandparents and great-grandparents lived into their 80's and even 90's so chances are that I have my parents around for a lot longer. But you never know. My sister's best friend lost her mom the other day in a car accident.
Anyway, another year or so passed. One of my goals for losing weight was to be able to get into this plaid ballgown that belongs to my sister. On the day that I was able to put on that dress, we took photos. Mom had me put on some of her jewelry, including that ring.
It fit as perfectly as the dress did.
I gave the dress back to my sister when we were done. But my mom gave me the ring for keeps that day. It is the oldest piece of jewelry I own, and the one with the most meaning. I tend to save it for special occasions, but occasionally wear it just to work or out with friends. I usually put it on my right hand now, especially if I am going out. It is an engagement ring, after all, and I won't want any cute men thinking that it means I'm taken. ;-)
Here I am with the plaid dress and ring, worn that time on the left hand.
I was named after my great-grandmother Rose, as Rose is my middle name. Rose was my mom's maternal grandmother. She was the 1st of what is now 5 generations of college-educated women in my family. She earned a BFA in music from Ohio Normal University, now Ohio Northern University in Ada, Ohio. I have her music cabinet and some of her old music books, including one that she inscribed with "Rose T. S------, Ada, O. O.N.U. 1905."
Grandma Rose married much later than was common at the time. I cannot find the date that she and Grandpa Archie were married, but I know she did not have my grandmother until she was 36 years old and my great-uncle two years later. Guess I am not the first "old maid" of the family. ;-) When she died, my grandmother inherited her engagement ring.
At some point during my early childhood, my grandmother gave my mom that ring, on the condition that it eventually be given to me, as I was (at the time) my great-grandmother's only namesake. When I was little, my mom would sometimes allow me to try on the ring but I knew it was not a toy and that it would be a long time before I would get it. I always assumed it would come to me upon my mom's own passing, and I am clearly interested in that event being delayed as long as possible.
When I gained all my weight over the years, the ring gradually did not fit me any longer. My mom once had it resized from a size 5 to it's present approximate size 6 but there was not enough metal to resize it any larger beyond that. I could barely fit it on my pinky finger, and for a long time, I thought it would be something that I would eventually simply keep in my jewelry box but never be able to wear.
And then I started losing weight. At some point along the way, I think when I had lost about 100 lbs, my mom told me that once the ring fit me, she would give it to me.
Wow.
It was a weird thought at first, actually. As I said, I had always figured I'd get it after my mom died. I wasn't sure I was ready for the ring, in part because my parents are already in their 60's and so it reminded me that my parents are not immortal. Most of my grandparents and great-grandparents lived into their 80's and even 90's so chances are that I have my parents around for a lot longer. But you never know. My sister's best friend lost her mom the other day in a car accident.
Anyway, another year or so passed. One of my goals for losing weight was to be able to get into this plaid ballgown that belongs to my sister. On the day that I was able to put on that dress, we took photos. Mom had me put on some of her jewelry, including that ring.
It fit as perfectly as the dress did.
I gave the dress back to my sister when we were done. But my mom gave me the ring for keeps that day. It is the oldest piece of jewelry I own, and the one with the most meaning. I tend to save it for special occasions, but occasionally wear it just to work or out with friends. I usually put it on my right hand now, especially if I am going out. It is an engagement ring, after all, and I won't want any cute men thinking that it means I'm taken. ;-)
Here I am with the plaid dress and ring, worn that time on the left hand.
Friday, September 5, 2008
another rainbow
I saw this one this morning as I drove to Panera for a bagel and coffee. This is the 4th time since April that I have seen a rainbow. I blogged about 2 of the other occasions, and one was while I drove home from Madison on Memorial Day.
I once (several years ago) saw 7 separate rainbows form and fade as I drove home, traveling south, storms moving off to my east, and the sun setting in the west. The whole thing lasted about 45 minutes. Obviously opportunities like that are very rare. Normally I might see 2 or 3 in a year.
Rainbows have been granted symbolic meaning by various cultures over the years. When I started poking around, it interested me that so many varied cultures have seen the rainbow as some sort of connection between the human and the divine/God/gods/heaven. It is also a symbol of promise and hope.
I do not really believe in omens or signs. Rainbows are just cool optical phenomena that are beautiful and fleeting. So I would not say that I think there is some sort of divine message I am to take from seeing all these rainbows, despite their unusual frequency in my life in recent months.
All the same, I am glad that I have seen them. They make me smile.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
happier thoughts
I have a cute new haircut that everyone likes, including me. I smiled a lot today. :-)
Tuesday thoughts
I was driving home this evening and started cruising the radio stations and happened upon Delilah on one of the stations. Delilah annoys the crap out of me, has for years. Partly it is the tone of her voice, which to me sounds patronizing. Still, plenty of people like calling into her show and requesting love songs for the people in their lives. I left it on the dial as I drove, trying to figure out why she bugged me so much. After all, many of the songs are ones that I enjoy if I hear them at other times. I grew up in the era of the 80's power ballads after all.
It occurred to me that hearing several songs like that in a row reminded me of junior high and high school dances. I do not remember those fondly at all. I could go over in gory detail about the many rejections that I faced and how alone I felt in those crowded rooms, but suffice to say that I disliked them enough that I went to 2 total dances in 4 years of high school. Once my freshman year, and then my senior prom. Both were awful experiences.
Wedding receptions to me are much the same as those dances. I at least am more likely to dance the fast stuff now, so I am not a total wall-flower, but when the smoochy romantic stuff comes on, I walk off the dance floor. I've never had a date to take with me to a wedding, and opportunities with other guys just don't seem to come up.
Basically, the Delilah show subconsciously reminds me of some of the occasions where I have felt most unwanted in a romantic sense. Geez, no wonder it aggravates me!
I long ago decided that if I ever get married, I will not have dancing at my wedding reception. There is something to be said for creating newer and happier associations with dancing, but honestly, the most fun I ever had at a wedding was my brother's. He had a beach party, where we all got into our swimsuits and just had no-pressure fun. I had already decided by then that I wanted a non-traditional reception, and his just cemented that resolve.
Zoo party, anyone? :-D
It occurred to me that hearing several songs like that in a row reminded me of junior high and high school dances. I do not remember those fondly at all. I could go over in gory detail about the many rejections that I faced and how alone I felt in those crowded rooms, but suffice to say that I disliked them enough that I went to 2 total dances in 4 years of high school. Once my freshman year, and then my senior prom. Both were awful experiences.
Wedding receptions to me are much the same as those dances. I at least am more likely to dance the fast stuff now, so I am not a total wall-flower, but when the smoochy romantic stuff comes on, I walk off the dance floor. I've never had a date to take with me to a wedding, and opportunities with other guys just don't seem to come up.
Basically, the Delilah show subconsciously reminds me of some of the occasions where I have felt most unwanted in a romantic sense. Geez, no wonder it aggravates me!
I long ago decided that if I ever get married, I will not have dancing at my wedding reception. There is something to be said for creating newer and happier associations with dancing, but honestly, the most fun I ever had at a wedding was my brother's. He had a beach party, where we all got into our swimsuits and just had no-pressure fun. I had already decided by then that I wanted a non-traditional reception, and his just cemented that resolve.
Zoo party, anyone? :-D
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