New Blog Name

Well, I did it. I finally figured out a name for the blog. Welcome to "My Little House of Ill Repute." The decision has been made.

Years ago, Hillary Ryan, introduced me to Sandra Cisneros. She told me these poems would set me free. For this, I am eternally grateful.

They say I'm a beast.
And feast on it.  When all along
I thought that's what a woman was.

They say I'm a bitch.
Or witch. I've claimed
the same and never winced.

They say I'm a macha, hell on wheels,
viva-la-vulva, fire and brimstone,
man-hating, devastating,
boogey-woman lesbian.
Not necessarily,
but I like the compliment.

The mob arrives with stones and sticks
to maim and lame and do me in.
All the same, when I open my mouth,
they wobble like gin.

Diamonds and pearls
tumble from my tongue.
Or toads and serpents.
Depending on the mood I'm in.

I like the itch I provoke.
The rustle of rumor
like crinoline.

I am the woman of myth and bullshit.
(True. I authored some of it.)
I built my little house of ill repute.
Brick by brick. Labored,
loved and masoned it.

I live like so.
Heart as sail, ballast, rudder, bow.
Rowdy. Indulgent to excess.
My sin and my success --
I think of me to gluttony.

By all accounts I am
a danger to society.
I'm Pancha Villa.

I break laws,
upset the natural order,
anguish the Pope and make fathers cry.
I am beyond the jaw of law.
I'm la desperada, most-wanted public enemy.
My happy picture grinning from the wall.

I strike terror among men.
I can't be bothered what they think.
Que se vayan a la ching chang chong
For this, the cross, the Calvary.
In other words, I'm anarchy.

I'm an aim-well,
shoot-sharp,
sharp-tongued,
sharp-thinking,
fast-speaking,
foot-loose,
loose-tongued,
let-loose,
woman-on-the-loose
loose woman.
Beware, honey.

I'm Bitch. Beast. Macha.
Ping! Ping! Ping!
I break things.

Pizza Party

Since Georgia was playing in the SEC Championship on Saturday, we decided to celebrate by making pizza. The game might not have turned out the way we had hoped (congrats, LSU), but the pizza was a total success.

Pizza Dough

3/4 cup water
2 tablespoons oil
2 cups bread flour
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoon bread machine yeast

Combine ingredients and put in bread maker. If you don't have a bread maker, stop what you are doing and go buy one. It will not disappoint.

We made 3 batches of dough for various pizzas and by the time we were on the last one, Brandi had memorized the recipe.  According to her, this couldn't be easier.

Remove the dough from the bread maker and place on a floured pan. Knead for 1 minute. Then, let it rest for 15 minutes.  Roll out the dough. Place on a pan that has been greased and sprinkled with corn meal. Then, let it rise for 20 minutes. After you add the sauce and toppings, bake at 425 for 20-25 minutes.

Pizza Sauce

I took care of the sauce. We looked up a recipe, but I just poured a bunch of stuff in a pot and it turned out delicious. The measurements provided are rough estimates.

1 clove garlic, mashed and minced
1 teaspoon salt
1 can tomato paste (well, this isn't an estimation)
1 can tomato sauce (I used 2 cans whole tomatoes and 2 cans of diced tomatoes instead)
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1/2 teaspoon oregano
1/2 teaspoon olive oil (I definitely used more than this)
dash of red pepper (and more of this, too)

I also added Jane's Krazy Mixed-Up Salt (a dash or so)

Simply combine the ingredients and simmer. I ran our sauce through the food processor because I had used whole and diced tomatoes, not a tomato sauce.

For a while, we didn't think it would be thick enough. But let it simmer for a while and it will have the right consistency.

We made two pizzas for dinner.




Black olives, pepperoni, and mushrooms



Fresh mozzarella

 We also made garlic cheese bread.

Garlic Butter

Butter, softened
Garlic, mashed and minced
Salt
Oregano
Italian Seasoning
Parmesan cheese

This is really simple. Just mix all the ingredients together.  Spread on the pizza dough and cover with mozzarella cheese. Cook on 425 for 20-25 minutes. We used the pizza sauce as a dipping sauce. The result was delicious.

We also made a dessert pizza (see, we got a little pizza happy).


Dessert Pizza

Nutella (a gift from God)
Semi sweet chocolate chips
White chocolate chips
Coconut
Almonds (or other nut you find appealing)

As you can see, we started chowing down before I could get a picture. It was really good.

You can use whatever sweet things you enjoy. We like these things and they were delicious on the pizza dough.

So, even though Georgia lost (curses!), the day was not a total let down.

Bottle It Up: A DIY for the DIY Impaired

We have gone little craft-crazy this holiday season. The first thing we created? Silver bottles for the entry way. This project was really easy, but it did take a moment of trial and error.

What You Need:

Epsom Salt (We used Dr. Teal's Cooling Peppermint -- our bottles smell amazing!)
Glitter
Silver spray paint
Newspaper

Yep, that's all.

Side Note: Glitter is more expensive that I remember it being when I was 9.  This could be because I don't actually know how much it was when I was 9.

Put your newspaper down. Now, we mixed the glitter and the Epsom salt on the newspaper like so:

We sprayed the bottles completely silver and then rolled the bottom of the bottles in the glitter and salt mixture. This is what happened:

I don't know if you can tell (or maybe that's the wrong picture), but we didn't think things through. Our patio is concrete (or "concreek" according to B). Rolling a spray painted glass bottle over the concrete only scratches the paint off the bottle.  So what could have been a one-person project quickly devolved into a two-person laugh riot.

Basically, one person sprayed the bottle and the tilted it back (so as not the scratch the paint) and rotated it. Meanwhile, the other person threw the salt and glitter mixture gingerly upon the bottle as it was being rotated. Hilarity ensured when the person spray painting (me) paid no attention the the direction the spray nozzle was pointing and continually painted everything save the bottle.

But, we were ultimately successful. See:

The picture doesn't really do them justice. All in all, the project took about 20 minutes (half of which was us realizing concrete is not the ideal surface upon which to craft, followed by a good 2 minutes of laughing).

The 25 Most Exciting Days of the Year

December 1st is here. December, y'all! The years keep moving faster and faster and I just can't seem to keep up. Or get used to that fact. So, we're officially in the Christmas season -- the most wonderful time of the year. Crafting and cooking only get better and accomplished more often in this short season. Could a blog-a-day be upon us? Probably not. But Lord knows I have enough projects going to try.

B has made is Christmas wish-list. It is as follows:

(1) Any Wii game. Any game except Wii Sports "because it's the only one I have, Mom, and I need another one."
(2) "A smaller rug, just like this one, that I can put next to it so I have a bigger rug." B has a rug with streets and whatnot on it so he can play with his cars. He feels he needs more roadway.
(3) A bigger Whack-A-Mole game.

Basically, things he already has, just on a grander scale. That's it. Until I pressed him further. Then, he wanted everything he saw on TV. Sounds about right.

I am getting ready for the holidays by listening to Christmas music (I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas, Donde Esta Santa Claus?, and Elvis' Blue Christmas being my favorites) and watching Christmas movies (It's a Wonderful Life, Love Actually, and The Wizard of Oz. I have a somewhat odd definition of "Christmas movie").

This will be B's 5th Christmas. Here's a picture from his first:



Guilty Christmas baby ripped the present's wrapping as a sign of protest at having his picture taken 7 million times.

 Merry Christmas, everyone!

Cranberry Lime Vodka

Well, I'm making fruit-infused vodka. I mean, why not? I found the recipe on Pintrest (where else?). It comes from Fancy Napkin.  Not that anyone who ever attended a fraternity party needs a recipe. This girl also makes a Sour Cherry Vodka, so I'm excited to try all different kinds of fruit variations.

This couldn't be easier, but it could be a little less time consuming.

What You Need

Cranberries (enough to fill whatever size jar you're using to make your vodka; I used 3)
Lime Rinds
Sugar

You have to start by poking a hole in each of the cranberries. If this sounds daunting (particularly if you're making a lot of vodka), that's because it is. Sort of. It took me about 30 minutes to poke holes per 12 oz. bag. I watched Friends (The One With the Rumor, specifically) while I poked my holes. I took a lunch break, too. I mean, it took an hour and a half. A break was much needed.

I layered one bag of cranberries and then the rind of one lime and so on and so forth until the jar was full.

Then, cover the fruit with vodka and add sugar. I added about 2 spoonfuls of sugar, just to cut the bitterness of the cranberries. Then set the jar aside so the vodka can steep -- for 2 weeks to 2 months. Make sure you shake the jar every day or two, just to make sure that the sugar mixes in well.

This would make a great Christmas gift. If you get this from me at some point, it means I like you a lot.

Nerd Alert

I recently acquired three bookshelves, bringing the total number of bookshelves in my room to six.  I wasn't 100% sure I had enough books to fill all 3, but, much to my delight, I do.  I can't properly explain how much I love reading. A friend told me once that reading fiction was ridiculous (he prefered non-fiction). I almost died.  I don't know how to tell someone what fiction, poetry, hell, the dictionary, means to me.  Everyone I come into contact with should be on high nerd alert.

I had a birthday about a week ago. In two (very) short years, I will be 30. I am by no means a wise person, I don't learn lessons easily, I make mistakes in spades, and I don't know half of what I hope to one day, but I do know this: At 28 years old, I am a nerd. And I also know that I am absolutely comfortable with that fact.

There is no telling what B will remember about me or his childhood in 23 years (when he is 28). I often think about my childhood and my parents and what I remember about those days. And I don't mean the big memories -- the birthdays, the Christmas mornings, the school programs. I mean the little things. The small details that really matter.  I mean those random memories that creep up when you least expect them. The memories you didn't even know you had.  The memories that are triggered by a smell, or a song, or the way someone pronounces a word.

I remember how excited Taylor and I were when it snowed in Dothan that one year. I remember how my Dad's excitement matched our own (and how funny we all thought it was when Bailey, our dog, peed in the snow). I remember my Mom patiently placing all of my long blonde hair in pink sponge rollers at night and how she would let me then tangle play with her hair. I remember how my Mom and I made fun of the way my Dad said "milk." And how they made fun of the way I said "magenta" (I was eight. How was I supposed to know it wasn't "mag-neta?"). I remember how my Mom settled the WWIII caliber "Who Rides in the Front Seat" argument of 1992 (One of us got odd days, the other even). I remember (and still have) every note of encourgement, love, and even the occasional note of disappointment (I still have those, too). I remember my parent's reaction the day Taylor smashed my pinky finger in the trampoline spring and then again on the day I hit him in the back of the head with a golf club. I remember the way my Mom smelled back then. To this day, a Garth Brooks song reminds me of my Dad. I remember Taylor playing football with himself in the front yard.  I remember a million little details. 

But most of all, I remember reading. I remember huddling under covers and in closets, finding a little space of my own in this big world.  I remember solving mysteries with Nancy Drew. I remember sobbing uncontrollably when Kirsten's best friend died on the ship during their voyage to America. I remember when my friends and I tried to create a Babysitter's Club. I remember when my aunt gave me The Secret Garden and how mad I was that I didn't have a secret garden of my own. I remember when I thought high school would be just like Sweet Valley High. I remember Arthur Cluck and Amelia Bedelia and Sarah, Plain and Tall. And I remember that my Mom loved to read. She and I both read multiple (and by "multiple," I mean at least five) books at a time. We surround ourselves with stacks of books and pencils. In this way, we are identical. In 23 years, my go-to memory of my Mom will still be that she has always loved to read.

I can only hope Beckett remembers the same thing about me.

Mismatched Furniture Fix-Up

Like every single girl who has been a student for the better part of her life and has moved frequently over the years, I own a whole mess of mismatched furniture. So, about a month ago, I decided it might be time to try and make some of it match. Actually, I started this years ago. Basically, instead of having merely mismatched furniture, I have furniture that is painted two diferent colors. Exhibit A:

This is a bookshelf my Dad built for me while I was in college. Because it was made for a dorm room, it's pretty simple, but because I am a sentimental sap, I ca't bear to part with it. Plus, I have a bunch of books that need a home. As you can see, it's got some amazing quotes on the shelves (namely, one from a DMB song.....ah, college). As you can also see, the outside white and the inside is black. Looks great.

A couple of years ago, I decided to try to make this look a little better. B was about 3 or so, and I (wisely) let him help. Exhibit B is the result.:

Yup. B helped. And since I gave up on the project shortly afer I realized B could open a paint can on his own, the shelf retained this glorious exterior. And then, my sentimental side took over for a minute. I mean, B did this. So, I took a picture and moved on. But this is not the only problem with the bookshelf. There's Exhibit C:

This bookshelf saw me through three years of undergrad, one newborn baby, and three years of law school. The coffee rings were inevitable.  And finally, Exhibit D:

This picture best illustrates why one shouldn't give up on projects when they are only half finished. B had opened the paint can, spilled paint, and tried to paint the shelf. The spilled paint dried around the can and I just let it.  Later, when the paint can was moved, it left this amazing paint ring. 

Basically, this bookshelf has been begging me to fix it for years. I started painting it (comletely) black about a month ago. And then abandoned it again. Poor little bookshelf. It does, however, look infinitely better now. I am painting a design on the side that wound up taking me a lot longer than I anticipated. I had to abandon the bookshelf for the second time because I just couldn't deal with all the books being on the floor. I haven't taken a picture of the bookshelf's progress yet, but when I do, I'll post it here.

I must again admit that my Pinterest obsession is bordering on unhealthy. But, in light of my need to fix my bookshelf, I think this may be my next project:




from Ohdeedoh.com