Monday, January 28, 2013

Eye Fluffing and/or Candy

[Currently listening to: "Since I Don't Have You" by The Skyliners]*

FACT: I'm a busy girl.

Who isn't though, right? I'm sure we all juggle several things in our lives. Society seems to think I should juggle more since I have a vagina. Oh, does that word offend you? It seems when I say that word people give me "that" look. The look that seems to say, "I can't believe that just came out of your mouth!" For those of you who gasped at the thought of me using "that" word, feel free to read blogs elsewhere (like the aforementioned gardening and birth story blogs, although be forewarned, the birth story blogs will probably contain that pesky "v" word.) I'm a nerd, which is why I insist on using the proper terminology when referring to anatomy. Anyhow, back to the subject at hand: juggling.

At any given time, I will have a "to-do" list running through my head. I'll refrain from listing the things I do on a regular basis here for three reasons: 1. It's too darn long, 2. You all have your own to-do lists, so you probably don't care, and 3. I'll develop anxiety from the overwhelming number of unchecked items, which I refuse to do right now, because my children are finally fed, clean, stories read, prayers said and faking to be asleep, but really reading books and listening to music on their iPods. We (me, Trevor, Chloe and you) are all going to pretend they're asleep so I can justify listening to doo-wop music in bed on my iPad, while beginning my "unwind" time by writing this blog and drinking a heart-healthy portion of Old Vine Zin.

Now where was I? Oh yeah, I was talking about being busy. I'm always busy and thinking about ideas in my head. Thank goodness for my iPhone. Seriously, I'm amazed at people who live in our society without smart phones. It's rare, but they do walk among us. I consider life before Siri as "the dark ages." How on earth did I function before I met her? Now, back to the topic of this blog. Since I'm always busy I utilize my notepad app quite regularly to jot down ideas. I have a note titled "Blog Ideas", and under it I had "Eye fluffing? Is that a real thing?" I suppose I should be more detailed with the ideas typed out in my notepad, because for the life of me, I can't remember what I was referring to when I typed out the term "eye fluffing." I usually have quite the detailed memory, but I suppose the fact that I was driving home from getting my face rocked off by Under A Blood Red Sky, our friend's U2 cover band, and chatting with Jeff and Legendary, I must have forgotten what I wanted to write about. I asked Jeff and he couldn't remember. Maybe if TLCF is reading this he'll be able refresh my memory. It's seriously driving me crazy that I can't remember. I remember when I mentioned it from the passenger seat of the car we all started laughing. I also remember having tequila on Friday, which probably contributed to my memory loss.

Speaking of getting our faces rocked off, the song "If You Wanna Be Happy" by Jimmy Soul (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MH_PANCU9oQ) came on Pandora. Yes, the song is pretty screwed up, but it's also somewhat true. Here's a sample of one of the verses:

"Don't let your friends say
You have no taste,
Go ahead and marry anyway,
Though her face is ugly,
Her eyes don't match,
Take it from me she's a better catch."

This made the wheels in my brain spin. Am I the ugly wife? Is my cooking really good, or do I just think it's good because people lie to me? Am I less of a feminist than I thought because I'm actually allowing my brain to size up my entire being as a woman simply by my looks and cooking abilities? Would I rather be a piece of eye candy with no brains or talents? This is the senseless crap that goes through my head when I can't sleep at night, which is pretty much every night. Don't get me wrong, I'm not writing this in efforts to fish for compliments... I know I'm not the prettiest girl, but I'm also not the ugliest. Hopefully my crossfit addiction has helped to nudge me a few pegs closer to the attractive side... if not, at least the strength I've gained will enable me to punch a guy a little harder for calling me ugly. ;) Yes, you can be both beautiful and talented--several people *are* both, but I'm talking about one extreme or the other. Would you rather be freakishly smart and fugly, or drop-dead gorgeous and an idiot? You have to pick one or the other. My brain functions in extremes, people.


*I've decided to put a "currently listening to" at the top of my blogs as homage to the Stranahan Whisky bottle. It's kind of cool to see what the person was listening to while preparing my whisky, and I have been known to buy the bottles that were made while the person was listening to one of my favorite songs/artists. Cheers!

Thursday, January 24, 2013

The Cheesyl Conundrum and Chicken (recipe included)

We went to Interstate Kitchen last Saturday to celebrate a friend's birthday. The retro chic decor, combined with the new spin on vintage food, made for a happy Chérie. Plus, I've been in a doo-wop phase, so it tied the night in quite perfectly. As I type this, Frankie Valli is playing on Pandora. I'll let you guess which song is playing. Of course, you'd actually have to comment instead of being a blog stalker, but I'll take what I can get. ;)

Now back to the topic at hand: cheesyl. Poor Chris' salmon was undercooked, but we're going to pretend that didn't happen and the experience was perfect. As we were throwing back our retro beers (Olympia and Hamm's), waiting for the birthday boy's salmon to finish cooking, we began discussing the topic of Velveeta. We came to the conclusion that vinyl is to leather as Velveeta is to cheese. Viola! The term "cheesyl" was born.

What is Velveeta anyhow? Its cardboard box and lack of refrigeration makes me wonder, which is why I decided to take it to Wikipedia. Did you know that Velveeta was the first cheese product to gain the American Medical Association's seal of approval in the 1930s? Wow. People are actually out saving the world, and here I am, sitting on a heating pad in bed (the "Death by Thrusters" WOD was aptly named in crossfit today... I may or may not be able to squat to pee tomorrow), researching Velveeta and drinking an overly filled glass of red wine... from a box. It's official: I've reached the low part of my day.

Moving on to bigger, more important things. I perfected the buffalo wing and the Cielo Rojo (red beer) this past Sunday. Since you all sat through my ramblings on Velveeta, I'm going to reward you with the recipe for my chicken wings. You're welcome.

[Warning: lame story beginning in 5...4...3...2...1...]

For those of you who don't know me, my cooking is not exactly a science. I love science. I may or may not have had a crush on Mr. Wizard when I was a kid (perhaps that's where my love of nerdy, older white men developed?) I'm a perfectionist, but cooking is the one thing I do where I resist the confines of measuring equipment. You can't fence me in, yo'. Cooking is my therapy. The kitchen is my safe place. Yeah, I know... I sound very 1950's housewife. I'm sure any of you who have a passion for something can relate. When I cook I go into a place, and it's almost as if I'm meditating. Yes, I'm going into a pretty deep conversation over a chicken wing recipe, but they were *that* good... or maybe I was just a little hungover from Chris' birthday celebration and needed to eat after my long run.

Now is probably a great time to stop boring you with my ramblings. Besides, "Day-O (Banana Boat Song)" by Harry Belafonte just started playing on Pandora. Roxy, my miniature long-haired dachshund, is freaking out because she thinks there's a strange man in the house. Here's the recipe:

Buffalo Wings:

2 pounds chicken wings, sectioned
Coarse sea salt (or Kosher salt)
Cracked black pepper
Fresh garlic, minced (can substitute garlic powder)
Onion powder
Frank's Wing Sauce

1. Cut the wings into three sections: the drumette, the wing (the flat part with two bones) and the little tip at the end. Discard the tip at the end. It's gross, but trust me, the results are worth breaking slimy chicken bones. Wash your hands.

2. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a jelly roll or sheet pan with foil, and grease the foil with coconut oil to ensure the wings do not stick.

3. Place the drumettes and wings into a bowl. Sprinkle the wings with the salt, pepper, garlic and onion powder. Use your hands to ensure that all the wings are coated evenly with the seasoning.

4. Wash your hands! Then wash your hands again, because you just handled raw chicken!

5. Sanitize your work station.

6. Place the chicken in one layer on the sheet pan, making sure they do not touch.

7. Bake for 30-40 minutes, or until they are no longer pink by the bone. The wings will be a beautiful brown color.

8. Place the cooked wings into a bowl and drizzle them with the wing sauce. Toss them to ensure they're evenly coated.

9. Put the coated wings back onto the pan and cook for an additional 7 to 10 minutes.

10. Remove and enjoy!

[Note: I normally post pictures of my food. As I thought of taking a picture, I realized buffalo wing fingers and white iPhones do not mix.]

Monday, January 14, 2013

Who says you can't revamp a blog?

"Even if I lived in a box, I'd never drink wine from a box."

That's what I used to say. Then I discovered Old Vine Zin from Bota Box, thanks to my neighbor, Jenny from da Block. I may or may not be currently drinking a glass (or two) of OVZ as I write this blog. I used to say a lot of things... then I actually lived life and discovered that people aren't perfect. Speaking of perfect, I'm far from being perfect (I mean far). Yes, I'm notorious for calling people out on their BS, but rest assured, I'm even better at calling myself out on my own BS. It turns out that I'm my own worst critic, and there's probably nothing you could tell me that I haven't already thought of myself.

This started as a food blog. Then I realized that I don't have tons of time to post step-by-step pictures, and I'm embarrassed of how little I've been able to cook these past few months (mainly because I've been so freaking busy.) I find writing cathartic. I used to blog with quite the following on MySpace--you know, before a bunch of slutty teenagers took over the site with their glitter graphics and pictures of themselves making duck lips in their bathroom mirrors. I have a strange sense of humor, which most people find offensive. Speaking of offensive, I'm rarely offended. If you're easily offended, I'd suggest finding another blog to read... like a gardening blog, or perhaps a blog about motherhood (you know, where the moms talk about how perfect their children are, and they all compare each other's labor stories?) Have I mentioned that I'm a stickler when it comes to spelling and grammar? I'll still write about cooking (aka: my therapy). Since I've been eating Paleo for quite some time, I'll mostly be posting Paleo recipes. I'll also write about my hippy causes (trying to save my children's school district from corporate greed), trying to raise my children into productive members of society, crossfit, brewing beer, drinking tequila, and exploring the great state of Colorado. If that sounds interesting to you, feel free to subscribe and be entertained (I've been told that I'm the funniest person I know.) If not, move along, Cowboy, this blog is obviously not for you.