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



(What) To Be or Not To Be? That is the Question.

I just logged onto Facebook and the first status I saw was that of Danielle, wondering what she should be for Halloween. Danielle, I find myself in a similar dilemma. It's going to be a budget Halloween, for sure. But I have a lot of crazy in my closet, so surely I can come up with something. For example, we have a variety of "hair hats" (thank you, Paige Evatt, for that delightful way to refer to wigs).

We have this hair hat:

Which doesn't help much because:  (1) I am blonde (again) and (2) I can get my hair just as big as the wig (on a related note, there is an amazing t-shirt idea in there somewhere). So, we'll move on to this one:

Last year, I was Cher. So I am now the proud owner of this wig. I feel sure it can be recycled, though.

Now, the piece de resistance:

The real dream is to find a use for this wig. I mean, this is the dream. But I am currently at a loss for ideas. So any suggestions are welcome.

While I was writing this blog, Brandi and I had this conversation. I found it oddly fitting.

Brandi: She is a crazy hippie.
Me: Dude, that sucks. I love a pseudo-hippie, but the full-out hippie? Go away.
Brandi: Yeah, she has a purple stone tied tightly on a choker, like a witch.
Me: Nice.
Brandi: A million earrings. A ring on every finger and hair to her butt that's in a ponytail.
Me: Oh, so me the day I finally lose my shit?
Brandi: Lol, no. You will never wear clogs.
Me: TRUE STORY.

So, maybe I should be a hippie? But probably not. I'm not even wearing clogs for the sake of a costume. They are that awful.

So, you can see I have a major problem on my hands.

I found this on Pintrest today. I find it hilarious, but other people seemed to be offended by it. I guess they thought there are people out there who are legitimately in favor of teaching kids to accept drugs from strangers. It's a joke, people. Kids should only accept drugs from people they know. This is why I am a good mom.

Much Like the Honey Badger, Crazy Cat Lady Don't Give a Damn

To begin, I must admit that this post will make almost no sense whatsoever. Much like my train of thought.

This video cracks me up. I can't exactly watch it (it truly grosses me out at points), but listening to it gets me rolling every time. Speaking of things that crack me up, there's always this:

I spent all day yesterday destroying a 10 year old pair of capri pants. I'm not sure what's more disturbing: that it took me all day to destroy them (I get easily side-tracked) or that I still had pants from 10 years ago? And also, I have no idea what I think I'm trying to make out of them. I just know that they no longer need to be capri pants. Pictures to follow. Unless, of course, I just make a huge mess (which is the most likely outcome).

And now for something completely unrelated to the above.

Anyone who knows me knows that I live by this simple motto: The bigger the hair, the closer to God. And as such, am in great need of this shirt:

My birthday is in 18 days, so you can find this for me here.  I have been using Aqua Net like it is my job lately.  And this causes some serious tangles. My mission is to figure out how to use my beloved Aqua Net without getting a crazy bird nest on the back of my head by the end of the day. I feel certain Google will be able to help me out. If not, I'll just channel Truvy. Surely, she will have some insight.

When I started this post yesterday (and by "start," I mean, posted the Honey Badger video), I had a lot of things to write about. Did I write any of them down for reference later? Um, no. Wait. The cat.

It's official. I am a crazy cat lady. And I am surprisingly okay with this. It occurred to me yesterday when I was taking a shower. Why the shower? Yeah, that's because Liza Jane sits on the edge of the tub, peeks around the shower curtain, and just watches me shower. So that, coupled with the fact that I am now blogging about it, makes me a crazy cat lady. I've decided to embrace it.  In that spirit, here's something that reminds me of my previous cat (who ran away shortly after B was born), Steven J. Stickers, Esq. (Yes, that was his full name, but those close to him called him simply Steve Stickers):

I think maybe I'll bring the rambling to a close now. Back to destroying old clothes, using Aqua Net, and talking to my cat.

Update: I was just sitting on my back porch and had a stroke of genuis. I think I'm going to have to call my blog The Pigloo. It seems such a waste to have that awesome picture and do nothing with it. Plus, this blog makes no sense and I think "The Pigloo" really captures that perfectly. 

National Poetry Day

Today, October 6, is the first Thursday in October, or National Poetry Day. In honor of the day, here are some of my favorites:

The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man's love! - more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
'Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced -
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and dote.
                  -Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet XXXII, 
                   from Sonnets for the Portuguese

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message: "He is Dead."
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now, put out everyone.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
                        -W.H. Auden, Funeral Blues

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing.
The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes the darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.
                  -David Whyte, Sweet Darkness, from House of Belonging

October is the perfect month for National Poetry Day. The back porch, a cup of coffee, a great poem, and gorgeous October weather go a long way to healing the soul.

National Coffee Day

Or, as it is known by me, the high holy day. Anyone who knows me, knows that I do not function well without coffee in the mornings. I will pretty much drink it however it is given to me. When I make it at home, all I need is creamer. No sugar for me. And just plain creamer, none of the flavored sweet stuff.  Generally, I like it hot (that's what she said. Sorry, I couldn't resist). But I decided it might be time to try something different.

Thus, my foray into the world of Homemade Iced Coffee. I found two recipes (one from the Pioneer Woman and one from Smitten Kitchen). They're pretty similar and not too complicated. I followed the one from Smitten Kitchen because it was simpler. Of course, I found them because of the beauty that is Pinterest.

Both recommend cold brewing the coffee, rather than brewing coffee like usual and then placing it in the refrigerator to cool. This is what I did.

from Smitten Kitchen (I really want to call this site Smitten Kitten).

Cold-Brewed Ice Coffee
From The New York Times (via Smitten Kitchen)
Yield: Two drinks


1/3 cup ground coffee (medium-coarse grind is best)
Milk (optional)


1. In a jar, stir together coffee and 1 1/2 cups water. Cover and let rest at room temperature overnight or 12 hours.
2. Strain twice through a coffee filter, a fine-mesh sieve or a sieve lined with cheesecloth. In a tall glass filled with ice, mix equal parts coffee concentrate and water, or to taste. If desired, add milk.


I tripled this recipe, so 1 cup of ground coffee and 4 1/2 cups of water (right? I don't do math. It worked, though, so I guess I was right. Take that, fraction addition).  I used pretty cheap coffee (see above, I will drink whatever is available) and it tasted fine to me, but use whatever coffee you like.  As far as straining goes, I placed a paper towel in our fine mesh sieve (because the mesh just isn't quite fine enough. I do, however, like that calling it a "fine mesh sieve" makes it sound super fancy). It helps to take a wooden spoon to the coffee grounds, just press gently (be careful not to rip the paper towel) and squeeze out as much of the liquid as you can.


After you've separated the coffee grounds out, you might want to refrigerate the cold brewed coffee. Or not. Maybe you want your caffeine NOW. Maybe I know exactly how you feel. 


After you've decided whether or not to be patient, grab a glass. Fill it with ice cubes. Then, fill half way (or more, depending on your desired coffee to milk ratio). Fill the remainder of the glass with milk (or half and half, whatever floats your boat). 


One of those recipes (I think the Pioneer Woman) suggests adding sugar or making a simple sugar with a flavoring, like vanilla. So, I did. But I made it with peppermint extract.  


Simple (really) Sugar
-1 part sugar
-1 part water
-peppermint extract to taste (or vanilla or whatever else your little heart desires)


Bring to a boil, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved.


Seriously simple.


This is what I added to my iced coffee this morning. It takes about 3 minutes to make. But, the peppermint sugar tastes bitter in the coffee unless you let it sit for a bit. I took my drink back to my room, played on the internet, blogged about mexican pizza, and then took a sip of my iced coffee. It was ten times better. Maybe the vanilla wouldn't be like that. Peppermint, why you gotta be like that? But the upside is that the coffee was cold when I added it to the drink, so the ice didn't melt and water the drink down while I was doing other things. 


Now, if only I was drinking my coffee out of these:

Mexican Pizza (a la Taco Bell)

I think I have documented my love for Pinterest. If you don't have an account, you are truly missing out on an amazing time suck. But I justify the time I spend playing on the site with the fact that I actually try a lot of the things I find there.

Case in point: last night's dinner. We had already settled on Taco Night. But, while playing on Pinterest, I found this:

Mexican Pizza. Now, how did we never think of this? It's slightly infuriating.  I mean, we eat Taco Bell mexican pizzas like it's our job. Our pizza wound up being slightly different than the one at Honey, What's Cooking?, but it was delicious nonetheless.

Ingredients:
-Tortillas (2 per pizza)
-Canola Oil (very small amount; just enough to cover both sides of tortilla)
-Water (1/4 cup)
-Onion (small)
-Refried  Beans (whichever brand you like; 1 pound can)
-Scallions, Tomatoes, Black Olives (whatever you like)
-Ground Beef (1/2 pound)
-Taco Seasoning (again, whichever brand you like)
-Mexican Cheese Blend (enough to cover pizzas)
-Salsa (whichever one you like)
-Sour Cream (optional)

Directions:
(1) Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
(2) Lightly brush both sides of 2 tortillas with canola oil.
(3) Place on foil lined tray and put in oven for 10 minutes -- 5 minutes on each side. If you have room, you can cook more than 2 at a time, but we don't, so we didn't. Also, I would highly suggest setting a timer. Five minutes is pretty fast when you're trying to do 10 things in the kitchen.
(4) While the tortillas are cooking, heat up the beans. Empty can into pot with 1/4 cup of water and cook over low heat. The water makes the beans (a) easier to cook; (b) creamier; and (c) easier to spread on the tortilla. Just do it.
(5) Chop the onion. If everyone you are feeding likes onions, then put them in the beans. If not (like our house), just leave them on the side.
(6) Chop whatever other vegetables you want (scallions, tomatoes, black olives, etc.).
(7) Cook ground beef and follow directions of taco seasoning packet. The other recipe wants you to add the seasoning to the beans, but that recipe is meat-free. We just added the taco seasoning to the meat and that added enough flavor.
(8) Take tortillas out of oven, but do not turn oven off. They will be really crispy. Ours managed to get a bunch of bubbles in them, so I just poked the bubbles with a fork and that flattened them back out.
(9) Spread the beans on one of the tortillas. Put some ground beef on top of that. The other recipe says to put a thin layer of salsa on top of the beans, but I opted not to do this.

(10) Then, place the second tortilla on top. Spread salsa in a thin layer and then cover with vegetables (onions, scallions, tomatoes, olives) and cheese.  See:

(11)  Place back in the oven. The other recipe said to cook for 12 minutes, but I found that the tortilla started to burn after about 5 minutes. Just watch it and try to leave the pizza in long enough to melt the cheese, but take it out before it burns (obviously).

We added Taco Bell mild sauce, sour cream, and guacamole and then enjoyed. A lot.

Just as an added tip, if you want to put salsa on your pizza, I would suggest making it. Most store-bought salsas are too chunky for my liking and about a year ago, Brandi and I decided to try to make salsa that had a consistency closer to that of restaurant salsa. Mission overwhelmingly accomplished. And it couldn't be easier.

Concord Foods Salsa Seasoning Mix (in whatever kind you like - both the mild and hot are good). All you do is add 2 cans of diced tomatoes (do yourself a favor and make sure you don't use the ones with basil or garlic or anything else Italian in it. You'll wind up with salsa that tastes like spaghetti sauce). The recipe calls for an onion, but we use scallions. Dump all of this in the food processor and blend. But pay attention and don't liquefy (another mistake we made that I hope you avoid). Delicious. And it lasts for a while, too.

The moral of this recipe? Pinterest makes me seem like the kind of person who comes up with mexican pizza recipes.

This recipe just illustrates this sentiment beautifully: