I Didn’t Even See Outside Today

I uesd to take naps but now naps take me.

Seriously, one minute I’m minding my b-i-bidness and then the next, I open my eyes and an hour has passed. Take today, for instance – I had a modest little shopping agenda. I took a shower, got dressed and all fixed up, sat down at around 12:30 pm to put on my shoes and goodnight, nurse.

Now, in my defense, I had my customary messed up night time sleep complete with pre-dawn coffee drinking. The (kid)napping occurred about 7 hours after the last cup. And I did do laundry and whipped up a new batch of biscotti (anise) in the meantime.

Supper overload: I made stuffed peppers today at the same time that  Sami decided to take advantage of NJ’s mild weather and make kutfa an on the grill (Sami’s recipe involves mincing the parsley and using the finest side of a box grater to produce onion juice). I took the path of least resistance and went mid-eastern for tonight. That means tomorrow’supper is in the bag and I might even have time for a nap when I come back from the office. Although I might not need that after-work nap if I fall asleep sitting upright at my desk.

Don’t get me wrong – I like to take naps but I want to do it on my terms.  I do not care for naps taking me.

Here’s The Plan

I’m up way early today. I’m going to make a fried egg sandwich and see what’s on TV.

That’s as far as I got with the planning.

UPDATE -10;30 am: Nice day for a drive so I got in the car and drove to gas station. As I was sitting there putting on my makeup, as you do, the strangest thing happened. Every time I passed the puff over my right eyelid, my eye made a noise just like this:


Every time I touched the lid, it squoinked. No pain, no movement, just a squoink. I can’t stop thinking about it.

UPDATE 2 -12:30 pm: Went to brunch. Brunch! I haven’t been to brunch since Hector was a pup. I had a Bloody Mary and the fritatta al fiorno.

UPDATE 3 -5:00 pm: Question: did Billy Joel die or otherwise make the news? I’ve had the car radio on scan and every single classic rock station is playing his songs today.

UPDATE 4 -6:15 pm: Just made a killing on Old European-esque wine glasses from the Pier 1 clearance section. They’re super funky and heavy and a little bit lopsided and unintentionally fraught with air bubbles. The salesperson was trying to be my friend by making small talk while she wrapped each glass. “Oh, these are the pretty glasses for Girl’s Night. You send the husband and the kids away and these are the glasses that come out. The ladies will really appreciate how beautiful these glasses are.” I didn’t tell her that they were just for me and  I was buying four in case I knocked three over I’d still have one left for myself.

It’s possible that I may have overfilled this one  just a bit.

Did I mention that it was green glass? The better to hide the Cheese Nips fingerprints, my dear. Green and thick like an etched soda bottle, but not as uniform. Good for whites, of course not reds. I know – they’re very fey but I have plain and elegant simple clear glasses but sometimes a girl needs a little festivity at her private Girl’s Night party, no?

Anyway, they were marked down to $2.00 each so what the hell.


Dog pictures, taken 15 seconds apart.

The dog lost consciousnesses while I was trying to take his picture. Scared the hell out of me but it turns out that he was just tired and had to take an immediate nap. I’m also a little bit scared of his freakish devotion to that Crazy Critter.

The Worst Thing About Business Travel

… is being held captive at the airport boarding gate while CNN spews all over you from every direction. It’s far more entertaining to watch the regular characters without the sound. This is what I had to look at all morning yesterday. It’s either Nanny Pee or that velociraptor from Jurassic Park.

Ok. It is Nanny Pee. The dinosaur had better skin.

I love how as more and more of her eyeballs is exposed at each “procedure”, her eyebrows seem to compensate by growing farther down the side of her face.

separated at birth (of the universe)

Flying Monkey

I’m flying to Atlanta today. Do you think I’ll get tornado’d?


UPDATE:  No tornado action. Smooth flight. Arrived uneventfully and on time.

I am in the crappiest hotel on the planet. And that includes the 4 Arrowheads or whatever that disaster in Oklahoma was when I stayed there 8 years ago. It’s really more of a motel. A crappy motel. Plus, I don’t have a rental car for this trip so I’m limited in how I can soothe myself with dinner offerings. I’m stuck with a french “bistro” just off the crappy lobby. If they don’t have wine, I swear to God I am going to flip my shit. My hip hurts, I haven’t eaten all day and did I mention that I’m in one of those Stop N’ Rob kind of rooms where the my door is next to an easily accessible picture window on the ground floor and my bed is three feet from the dimly lit public walkway? If I get a bed bug here I am going to pull my hair out.


UPDATE #2:  Quel surprise! I don’t know how they landed here in this crappy motel.  But wow! White tablecloth, small candles, fresh flowers on the table. For my first course, I had rillettes de porc à la moutarde.

house made pork rillettes with dijon mustard, red onions, cornichons, baguette toasts

I know! How did I ever live without this? It was like big super-fatty cold pork meatloaf slices! Accompanied by crisp salty things. I’m pretty sure I can replicate this with Oscar Mayer baloney in a blender*. Let’s have a dinner party!

Then I had truite grenobloise  (fresh local rainbow trout, couscous pilaf, asparagus,
toasted walnuts, capers, brown butter).  Can you even believe it? I also swilled down two glasses of French Voigne. It makes the whole crappy motel room thing seem insignificant.

*My mother used to tell me that she and her two girl friends used to have WWII-era teenage parties where they would invite the same three boys and play the radio and serve minced baloney mixed with mayonnaise and chopped pickles. The three girls** married the three boys*** and they stayed married until they all died. The power of minced baloney! Even the French know it.

**Geraldine, Irene and Aldona

***Babe, Youngy and Shanky

Stock Up On The Wine Sales Now

Looks like booze is the next area of intense over-regulation  for the feds. I’m no expert but just my minimal exposure to a small portion of the healthcare branch has me convinced that every single federal agency has the same marching orders right now: take over.

yeah. that would explain a lot.

I didn’t know who the CDC is talking to but even I don’t know anyone who “downs eight mixed drinks within a few hours, four times a month.” Do you? Maybe Snooki. Possibly Michelle Obama.

Oh, I see now that as I read through the article America Is Drunk, they are talking about young people. Obama voters.

“This is what is happening. It is critical we determine why it is happening… My theory is that Americans are on a flight from reality. Faced with painful facts—including the precarious state of the economy, the gathering storm represented by militant Muslims, in general, and Iran, in particular, the crumbling state of marriage in this country, the fact that our borders are being overrun, and the fact that our health care insurance system is in shambles (to name just a smattering of the troubles we desperately need to address)—we as a nation are drinking, drugging, gambling, smoking, Facebooking, YouTubing, Marijuaning, Kardashianing, Adderalling, Bono-ing (as in thinking of Chaz’s sad flight from reality as good), Prozacking, Twittering, and Sexting ourselves into oblivion.”

Now it makes sense.

not opposed to the occasional youthful bender

The First Snowy Day In NJ

Indoor activities for this Saturday. Actually, every Saturday is indoor activities for me. Sunday,too. The difference is when it’s nice and sunny outside, the pressure is on to do something interesting and I can’t hold up under that weight and so I just hide inside and I don’t do anything in case anyone catches me. That way I can pretend that I was just about to go outside.  But on a bad weather day, I can be free to wallow in the glory of actual activity.

You people know too much about me.

Anyway, Sami is outside performing his meticulous, hours long routine of snow removal plow/cursing at the plow. I have already made Orange-Cranberry Biscotti and I have some chicken soup simmering on the stove for him. It’s one of those refrigerator dump soups inspired by some forlorn leftover Chicken Dijon. When it’s all finished, I’m going to add some left over penne, each of which I will cut into 4 pieces. Depending on what shape he’s in when he finally comes in, I might produce a grilled cheese sandwich as well.

There’s only about 4 inches of snow out there but it’s not the nicest snow. It’s that fine needle-y snow that’s so heavy to start with. The temperature is only 26 degrees and the plows now have salt dispensers on the back so as they move along the street, the salt turns whatever is left behind into instantly freezing mush-slush which will soon freeze.

taken from the warmth and comfort of the den

By the way, the township must be afraid of losing their snow removal budget so they seem intent on spending it down in a single day. So far, four plows have been by on a dead-end street that is usually forgotten until evening. Three of those four plows must have been driven by teenagers. You never saw so much back and forthing and the high speed plow runs to exit the street – oh, my dears! I fear for the asphalt after hearing a few loudest-ever plow drops onto the surface. Meanwhile, I’m going to sit inside without guilt and get into that World’s Fair book that I bought a few weeks ago. Equal parts pleasant nostalgia and evil (or misunderstood) Robert Moses.

Here. Have some biscotti.

lookin' like a cranberry tastin' like an orange

I love the way the information superhighway helps to pull things together that you might not have thought of on your own. Since I’m all about food and ’64 World’s Fair today, I though you might like to join my mindset by taking a look at an article I came across recently about  the Culinary Impact of the 1964 world’s Fair.*

 *I must confess that for many, years of my early unsophisticated hick life before I went off to the big time (nursing school  in Hackensack NJ), I did call those things Bel-gem waffles.