April 2012 : Page 2 of 2 : Fluid Pudding

To Kale a Mockingbird

This is Tuesday’s haul from the produce co-op.

We scored cilantro, two bunches of kale, bananas, cherry tomatoes, Baby Bella mushrooms, broccoli, green peppers, limes, lemons, corn, zucchini, garlic, mangos, oranges, and pears. All for a total of $23.

Now I shall share a dark secret with you.

I have never eaten kale before.

On Wednesday afternoon, I typed Kale into Pinterest, and quickly came up with 4,392,493 recipes. 4,392, 490 of them were for kale chips. (My numbers might be a little fuzzy.)

Because I’ll eat anything whose birth had nothing to do with a canal, I knew kale chips had to happen. (Side story: When I told my mom that I was going to make kale chips, she said, “Well, Ice didn’t like them very much when Coco made them.” My mom and I live in two very different worlds.)

Here’s what I did: I de-spined my kale and threw the leaves into a bowl with a few tablespoons of olive oil. (I took the spines and buried them in the back yard with my placenta! I’m just kidding!)

I then mixed the leaves and olive oil together and threw it all onto a foil-lined baking sheet, where I sprinkled it with sea salt while listening to Enya.

Finally, I baked the leaves at 350 degrees for twelve minutes, removed them from the oven, and placed them upon a plate with some Carolina Creole.

(If you don’t know Carolina Creole, you should probably get to know it. Jeff cooks shrimp in it. I dip chips and vegetables into it. I almost feel like when I use it, I’m one step closer to hugging Bobby Flay. (In my world, that’s a good thing. He voted for Andrew Cuomo. Politics! Look at me!))

Do you see that plate of kale chips? I finished it off in less than ten minutes, and then I made another batch. Later that evening, I made another batch, and this afternoon I’ll make another. I’m going to keep eating kale chips until my body is GLOWING with sulforaphane. (If you really are what you eat, imagine what could happen if I became a sixty-six inch breathing model of anticancer. Dream it and achieve it, Oprah!)

Kale Chips. Make some. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Jeff is in Orlando. I just turned the furnace back on.

Back in 2009, Jeff decided to take a family photo after we returned home from church on Easter.

I have never seen a photo represent our family as well as this one. Jeff? Happy. The rest of us? On the edge of something wicked.

We did a bit better in 2010.

(The kids weren’t cooperating, so Jeff and I decided to make the most of it.)

This year’s photo is Very Much Okay.

(I’m not liking Flickr’s new photo editing options. Change is so hard, people. Especially when you lose your white balance option.) A much better photo from our Easter is this one:

When I was a kid, my favorite cake was chocolate chip cake with no icing. Although my mom doesn’t recall making it for me, she made it for me. Fairly often. I’ve been searching out a similar cake recipe for years, and I’ve finally found one that I love. (The layers of cinnamon and sugar take this cake right over the edge. Go make it right now. I’m making another one tomorrow. Really. Because I’m still hungry.)

I was going to tell you all about last night’s produce haul at the co-op, but today is the only day this week during which I have a four hour block of time to work on freelance. My four hour block begins in ten minutes.

Tomorrow is another day. A day for discussing mangos and kale chips! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The oven is my beetbox and I just ordered a pizza. Good Friday, indeed.

It feels like Saturday, doesn’t it? It does.

This morning I hung out at the hospital while my mom had surgery on her ankle. (Necrotic tissue, bone spurs, ice machine and elevation for a week, you get the picture. All is now well, although she got really sick to her stomach right after I left. I tend to have that effect on people.) While at the hospital, my dad and I strolled over to the cafeteria where I ate the worst hummus in the history of chick peas. I really should have known that hospital hummus wouldn’t be good. Lesson? Learned.

This afternoon? We picked up one of Meredith’s friends and then quickly dropped Harper off at a friend’s house. Do you remember that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Harrison Ford replaces the golden idol with a bag of sand? We’re doing that with kids this weekend. Drop off a kid, pick a kid up. Pick a kid up, drop off a kid. Harper weighs about 43 pounds. I’m guessing Meredith’s friend comes in at around 58 pounds. (Harper’s packed suitcase weighed around 15 pounds.) Equilibrium has been achieved.

Earlier this week, I attended my second-to-last PTO meeting as Treasurer.

The Things I Love The Most In Life On Friday, April Sixth
1. My family, my friends, my church, and all of the other stuff I’m supposed to list first.

2. Beets that have been wrapped in foil and baked at 400 degrees for an hour, then sprinkled with sea salt and olive oil. Seriously. Try it.

3. This song, which is full of bad words and 100% better than the original, which is sung by a woman who is known at The Pudding House for having dirty feet. (Last week Harper went out to get the mail with no shoes on. Meredith yelled, “No! You’re going to get Ke$ha feet!” My job here is done.)

4. Knowing that after May 1st, I will never have to sit at a big PTO table in front of a group of 20 (or so) people ever again. My voice has shaken and my eyes have rolled into the back of my head many times this year. (Incidentally, I’ve been reading a lot about introversion over the past several months, and I’ve learned that it’s okay to be me (la la laaaah!) and it’s okay to absolutely hate being at the front of the room and it’s okay to not attend events that make me feel awkward and it’s okay to be known as the person who always cancels. Similarly, it’s okay that not everyone wants to be my friend and although I’m still struggling with that one a bit, I *do* know that I have a few friends with whom I’m tight, and I just finished a 32 ounce cup of Diet Dr. Pepper, and the caffeine is sort of manifesting itself in this parenthetical aside. My whole self-awareness thing is so boring for you, isn’t it? I should warn you before I go off like this! Anyway!) Last Tuesday we held the election for next year’s officers, and it was announced that I wasn’t adding my name to the ballot because I want to increase my volunteer time at school. That’s not necessarily true. My volunteer time completely depends on the girls’ teachers and if they would like me to give spelling tests or grade papers or do anything else I can to save them some time. The reason I didn’t run again is because I would rather sit in the back of the room than in the front of the room. When the May meeting is over I plan on driving straight to Houlihan’s and treating myself to a chocolate martini with a Ding Dong sidecar, and it will look a little something like this.

Something Completely Different: I’ve been on a kick to finish a few knitting projects.

A few weeks ago, I finished my Damask. I really should have placed a quarter or a squirrel or something on the shawl so you could get some perspective. It’s really more of a shawlette, I suppose.

Last week I finished my Guernsey Wrap. It’s huge and cozy and I’m finally figuring out ways to wear it that don’t inspire Meredith to accuse me of trying to look like Jesus.

Last night I finished my cotton Liesl. It’s red and blocking and maybe I’ll show it to you next week. I’m currently working on a Seraphim for Jeff’s author who sends us towers of gifts each Christmas, along with handspun fingerless mitts for Gina. AND, I’m feeling the urge to try to spin a pound of fiber and make a sweater out of it. (It’s the Knitmore Girls Spin Along, Knit Along (aka SPAKAL)!)

Also, I’m seriously thinking about planting a salsa garden in my front yard.

Enjoy your Easter.

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I probably think this song is about me…

Do you remember back in December when Harper had that weird fever thing that ended up being an unusual strep strain?

She had the weird fever thing again last week. No other symptoms, just a fever that went as high as 103.6. Sadly, the only time the doctor could get us in was thirty minutes after Harper performed a fashion show for me—complete with a black velvet dress and black eyeshadow. (I let her keep the dress on for the appointment, but made her spend the entire twenty minute drive scrubbing her eyelids with makeup remover pads.) The verdict? “I think it’s a sinus infection.”

By the way, stay away from the internet when you’re searching out information on high fevers with no other symptoms.

Today I’m at a bit of a standstill with my latest freelance project, so I’m meeting my mom for lunch, getting a haircut, and thinking about cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen for Meredith’s sleepover on Friday. (Harp is attending her very first sleepover that evening, so we’re letting Meredith have a friend over for the night. Sadly, because of the weird timing, we’ll be missing one of my favorite church services of the year. It’s a quiet service. A powerful service. It’s the service that killed me dead two years ago when the flaming wick from the candle lighter’s big golden candle lighting tool thinger dinger broke off and fell onto the aisle carpeting—forcing the candle lighter to do a hilarious little dance to extinguish the flame. I could barely hold myself together, and then I started thinking about the time I watched a fly die in church and the time my thumb busted open and started squirting blood in church, and I can barely type right now because the tears are starting to roll.)

Sunday is Easter. Last Easter was my very worst Easter ever.

I just realized that I’m spending this entire post linking to myself. (Please know that right before I begin each new paragraph, I smile at myself in a mirror for twenty seconds. Well, hello there, Lady! Hi, Lady! Lady! You’re my night in shining armor, and I love you.)

Four years ago I wrote backwards on my face with eyeliner for Easter, and then I almost got sued. To keep with my me! Me! ME! theme, here you go.

Yes. The paper towels are off of the holder. Please know that we replaced that ridiculous paper towel holder after finally admitting that unscrewing the top to replace the roll was just too much of an ordeal for us. What a living hell that thing was.

Incidentally, the very eyeliner I used to write on my face fell into the toilet yesterday morning. Gone forever. (As much as I love my eye doctor, I don’t want to risk needing to see him because I’ve been blinded by makeup that may or may not have been contaminated by human waste.) ((And, yes. I don’t use eyeliner very often. After having it for more than four years, it was probably time for that thing to go. I know makeup tends to last longer than raw chicken, but I can’t really keep any of it straight.))

Hey! I finished two knitting projects. Let’s talk about them next time.

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