Well, it was bound to happen. My first true failure on a What's For Dinner entry. :( The recipe had promise. It was a chicken dish that was baked in pineapple juice and orange juice and an array of spices. But, the recipe called for dijon mustard and since I'm not a mustard fan, I just omitted that and that may be why it was an utter fail.
We suffered through the meal. Wade said it was good, hesitantly, and then left most of the chicken on his plate. He's wisening up. I tried to eat mine, but I only ate about half.
So for dinner, we each snuck back into the kitchen and snacked on doritos and animal crackers.
Eh, you win some. You lose some. Oh well.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Picture Perfect Tuesday
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Sunday, February 6, 2011
Book Review Sunday
Book: Heart in the Right Place
Author: Carloyn Jourdan
Pages: 297
This was such an interesting find, I can't believe my good fortune. I literally ran into the library one Wednesday afternoon while my mom sat with a sleeping A. and a talking J. in the car and grabbed this off the nearest shelf. I love it when a gamble plays off.
At first, I thought the book would be a snoozefest. Another memoir proclaiming how "changed" someone was because they returned home. However, I was quickly chastised.
What this turned out to be was a rare gem. Jourdan, an attorney on Capitol Hill, has been called home to the hills of East Tennessee to help her parents out for what she thought was going to just be the weekend. Her dad was the only doctor in town and her mom, receptionist and aide to Jourdan's father, had just had a heart attack. Jourdin prepared to take over receptionist duties until her mother was released from the hospital.
However, nothing could prepare Jourdan for what laid ahead. The cast of characters that come through the revolving doors of this one-man outfit is something straight out of fiction. Everything is represented in full force; hypochondriacs, cancer, geriatrics, workplace hazards, pysche problems, drug addiction.
Days stretch into weeks then months and Jourdan grapples with the desire to return to the life that she left behind in DC or to stay at her childhood home, where she was needed the most. There was some criticism on the goodreads.com site that maybe she spent a lot of time grappling with what seemed like an easy decision, but I personally felt like it gave it some credibility. What might seem like an easy decision between the pages isn't always that clear cut when played out in real life.
My most favorite character of the book was Jourdan's dad's best friend, Fletcher. He always seemed to be waiting at the family barn with some gem of wisdom to bestow upon Jourdan after a tough day at the office. One thing he shared was very profound:
"You know how in Bible stories whenever an angel shows up, the first thing he always says is, 'Fear not!'"
"Yeah."
"Well, it took me most of my life, but I finally figured out that he's not trying to comfort us when he says that. He's giving us an order. It's a command given more than 300 times in the Bible. The Lord's telling us not to let ourselves be afraid. We can't afford to be scared. It just gets in the way of us doing whatever it is that we're suppose to be doing."
Bingo! Wow. What an eye opener.
This book saw it's share of tragedy. How to do know how much to charge someone for telling them they're going to die? But, amidst the tears, there were laugh-out-loud moments and you saw a resounding theme emerge:
Sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone else is to just show up.
Author: Carloyn Jourdan
Pages: 297
This was such an interesting find, I can't believe my good fortune. I literally ran into the library one Wednesday afternoon while my mom sat with a sleeping A. and a talking J. in the car and grabbed this off the nearest shelf. I love it when a gamble plays off.
At first, I thought the book would be a snoozefest. Another memoir proclaiming how "changed" someone was because they returned home. However, I was quickly chastised.
What this turned out to be was a rare gem. Jourdan, an attorney on Capitol Hill, has been called home to the hills of East Tennessee to help her parents out for what she thought was going to just be the weekend. Her dad was the only doctor in town and her mom, receptionist and aide to Jourdan's father, had just had a heart attack. Jourdin prepared to take over receptionist duties until her mother was released from the hospital.
However, nothing could prepare Jourdan for what laid ahead. The cast of characters that come through the revolving doors of this one-man outfit is something straight out of fiction. Everything is represented in full force; hypochondriacs, cancer, geriatrics, workplace hazards, pysche problems, drug addiction.
Days stretch into weeks then months and Jourdan grapples with the desire to return to the life that she left behind in DC or to stay at her childhood home, where she was needed the most. There was some criticism on the goodreads.com site that maybe she spent a lot of time grappling with what seemed like an easy decision, but I personally felt like it gave it some credibility. What might seem like an easy decision between the pages isn't always that clear cut when played out in real life.
My most favorite character of the book was Jourdan's dad's best friend, Fletcher. He always seemed to be waiting at the family barn with some gem of wisdom to bestow upon Jourdan after a tough day at the office. One thing he shared was very profound:
"You know how in Bible stories whenever an angel shows up, the first thing he always says is, 'Fear not!'"
"Yeah."
"Well, it took me most of my life, but I finally figured out that he's not trying to comfort us when he says that. He's giving us an order. It's a command given more than 300 times in the Bible. The Lord's telling us not to let ourselves be afraid. We can't afford to be scared. It just gets in the way of us doing whatever it is that we're suppose to be doing."
Bingo! Wow. What an eye opener.
This book saw it's share of tragedy. How to do know how much to charge someone for telling them they're going to die? But, amidst the tears, there were laugh-out-loud moments and you saw a resounding theme emerge:
Sometimes, the best thing you can do for someone else is to just show up.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Clothing Malfunction
Okay, I think I'm ready to talk about it.
So, a few weekends ago, I traveled down to St. George with my posse. We had signed up to run a half marathon and, though I wasn't really all into it, I was still going to run it anyways. Mostly because I had encouraged the wife of Wade's cousin, who unexpectedly passed away in November, to run it as well and I'd feel really dumb if she ran it and I didn't.
Besides, it was becoming a yearly tradition. And this year, instead of it being cold and 20 degrees, it was pleasant at 50 degrees. Much more pleasant than the 10 degrees that it was up here. And I could endure a few hours of pain to spend a few hours away from the smog and the mounting laundry piles and the dirty dishes.
But, I knew I was going to be in trouble because I definitely did not put in the training that I had last year. Last year, I was at the fittest I have ever been. I was 15 pounds lighter and faster and had more motivation going into the race. This year was all about just surviving.
We stayed at C's dad's house again. They are the greatest hosts and always so enthusiastic about our runs. We ate a lovely meal at Texas Roadhouse. And I slept pretty good considering I was on the floor. That morning, I got dressed in my usual running attire.
Pay attention here because this is where it all starts to unravel. I put on my long sleeve undershirt that helps wick moisture away and keeps me somewhat warm and then a long sleeve technical shirt on top of that. I DO NOT like to be cold when I'm starting out on a long run and I figured I would just take the undershirt off when it got too hot.
(Warning: foreshadowing).
At the starting line of the race, I happened to run into Michelle, Forrest's wife, right before the gun went off. Figuring she had new tales to share that I haven't heard before from my two running buddies, I opted to stay with her. She had coerced two of her sisters to run the race as well and the four of us had a jolly time. We talked through the first six miles and the miles seemed to go by really fast.
As a sidenote: Michelle is doing awesome. She's seems to be holding up really well and I admire her courage and fortitude in carving out a new life for herself and her two girls in light of this unexpected curve ball that was thrown into her life. She wasn't afraid to answer any questions I had and we talked about Forrest and his passing for a good two miles. Then we talked about other things. Fun, interesting, dopey things that had nothing to do with the tragedies of life. I'm glad that I at least got to spend the first hour catching up with her. We'd all be better people if we could emulate change in our lives the way she has.
There was a big hill just after the sixth mile marker and I decided that there would be the place I would shed my undershirt. It had begun feeling like I was running in a sauna and besides, I had to pee. I said goodbye to Michelle and her sisters and jogged to the portapotties.
I did my business and then tried to take off my shirt. Which had, somehow, adhered itself to my body. As I was struggling to get this off, I could see the time on my watch clicking away. To make matters worse, I had ill-fatedly decided that I was going to choose this moment to be modest by not taking the top shirt off first. Nevermind that a month before, while out on a 10 mile jaunt I peed inside a three-sided structure that was meant to wall of utilities of some sort--in plain view of the highway. I just stood as far in the corner as possible and closed my eyes. If I can't see them, they can't see me, right? Besides it was that, or peeing my pants. And I definitely didn't want to run 5 miles back with wet pants.
So I was tangled up inside two shirts and then FINALLY, I was able to rid myself of the undershirt. When I glanced back at my watch, I realized that I had burned SEVEN (yes, 7!!!) minutes in that little exercise.
I started back off, but all the wind had left my sails. I passed the finish line at about 7.5 miles and stared enviously at the elite runners who were turning off towards the food and cheering spectators. I really considered quitting. I was in a lot of pain and I was tired and didn't feel good. But, I kept slogging away.
Eventually, I finished and then crawled to where I could see Michelle and her family. We talked for a little while and then my running buddies found me. C. had posted her best time EVER in a half marathon, knocking nearly 10 minutes off of her half marathon PR. H. had paced her the entire way and another lady from the neighborhood had ran with them, finishing a minute ahead.
If the shirt incident deflated me, then this about killed me. As to not take away from C's impressive finish--and to be honest, she did put in more training time then I did--I won't dwell on the inner workings of why this would cause me such angst. You'd have to be inside my head to understand it anyways.
Let's just suffice it to say that for the first few days, I couldn't talk about it without welling up with tears. In fact, I had practiced my "I'm going to do my own thing for awhile now" speech to give H. and C. when they called to resume running. Gratefully, though, I was able to snap out of it and we've been running again. Albeit, not fast by any means. But we're out there. And maybe now, I can just chalk the whole thing up to being a learning experience and move on.
So, a few weekends ago, I traveled down to St. George with my posse. We had signed up to run a half marathon and, though I wasn't really all into it, I was still going to run it anyways. Mostly because I had encouraged the wife of Wade's cousin, who unexpectedly passed away in November, to run it as well and I'd feel really dumb if she ran it and I didn't.
Besides, it was becoming a yearly tradition. And this year, instead of it being cold and 20 degrees, it was pleasant at 50 degrees. Much more pleasant than the 10 degrees that it was up here. And I could endure a few hours of pain to spend a few hours away from the smog and the mounting laundry piles and the dirty dishes.
But, I knew I was going to be in trouble because I definitely did not put in the training that I had last year. Last year, I was at the fittest I have ever been. I was 15 pounds lighter and faster and had more motivation going into the race. This year was all about just surviving.
We stayed at C's dad's house again. They are the greatest hosts and always so enthusiastic about our runs. We ate a lovely meal at Texas Roadhouse. And I slept pretty good considering I was on the floor. That morning, I got dressed in my usual running attire.
Pay attention here because this is where it all starts to unravel. I put on my long sleeve undershirt that helps wick moisture away and keeps me somewhat warm and then a long sleeve technical shirt on top of that. I DO NOT like to be cold when I'm starting out on a long run and I figured I would just take the undershirt off when it got too hot.
(Warning: foreshadowing).
At the starting line of the race, I happened to run into Michelle, Forrest's wife, right before the gun went off. Figuring she had new tales to share that I haven't heard before from my two running buddies, I opted to stay with her. She had coerced two of her sisters to run the race as well and the four of us had a jolly time. We talked through the first six miles and the miles seemed to go by really fast.
As a sidenote: Michelle is doing awesome. She's seems to be holding up really well and I admire her courage and fortitude in carving out a new life for herself and her two girls in light of this unexpected curve ball that was thrown into her life. She wasn't afraid to answer any questions I had and we talked about Forrest and his passing for a good two miles. Then we talked about other things. Fun, interesting, dopey things that had nothing to do with the tragedies of life. I'm glad that I at least got to spend the first hour catching up with her. We'd all be better people if we could emulate change in our lives the way she has.
There was a big hill just after the sixth mile marker and I decided that there would be the place I would shed my undershirt. It had begun feeling like I was running in a sauna and besides, I had to pee. I said goodbye to Michelle and her sisters and jogged to the portapotties.
I did my business and then tried to take off my shirt. Which had, somehow, adhered itself to my body. As I was struggling to get this off, I could see the time on my watch clicking away. To make matters worse, I had ill-fatedly decided that I was going to choose this moment to be modest by not taking the top shirt off first. Nevermind that a month before, while out on a 10 mile jaunt I peed inside a three-sided structure that was meant to wall of utilities of some sort--in plain view of the highway. I just stood as far in the corner as possible and closed my eyes. If I can't see them, they can't see me, right? Besides it was that, or peeing my pants. And I definitely didn't want to run 5 miles back with wet pants.
So I was tangled up inside two shirts and then FINALLY, I was able to rid myself of the undershirt. When I glanced back at my watch, I realized that I had burned SEVEN (yes, 7!!!) minutes in that little exercise.
I started back off, but all the wind had left my sails. I passed the finish line at about 7.5 miles and stared enviously at the elite runners who were turning off towards the food and cheering spectators. I really considered quitting. I was in a lot of pain and I was tired and didn't feel good. But, I kept slogging away.
Eventually, I finished and then crawled to where I could see Michelle and her family. We talked for a little while and then my running buddies found me. C. had posted her best time EVER in a half marathon, knocking nearly 10 minutes off of her half marathon PR. H. had paced her the entire way and another lady from the neighborhood had ran with them, finishing a minute ahead.
If the shirt incident deflated me, then this about killed me. As to not take away from C's impressive finish--and to be honest, she did put in more training time then I did--I won't dwell on the inner workings of why this would cause me such angst. You'd have to be inside my head to understand it anyways.
Let's just suffice it to say that for the first few days, I couldn't talk about it without welling up with tears. In fact, I had practiced my "I'm going to do my own thing for awhile now" speech to give H. and C. when they called to resume running. Gratefully, though, I was able to snap out of it and we've been running again. Albeit, not fast by any means. But we're out there. And maybe now, I can just chalk the whole thing up to being a learning experience and move on.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Thankful Thursday #5
Man, I'm so happy for low maintenance friends. You know the type. Ones you call on occassion yet it seems like you just talked yesterday. Friends that don't care that you haven't showered for three days and don't care that you don't want to play today. They'll catch you tomorrow.
I have a nice crop of low maintenance friends at the current time and I'm loving it. I may never go back to the high maintenance route.
Today, I'm definitely thankful for those friends that make my life easier, more fun, and happier.
I have a nice crop of low maintenance friends at the current time and I'm loving it. I may never go back to the high maintenance route.
Today, I'm definitely thankful for those friends that make my life easier, more fun, and happier.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
What's For Dinner Wednesday--Tomato-Herb Focaccia
There's this restaurant--Sweet Tomatoes--that's basically a salad bar, with soups and breads. Lots and lots of bread. It's in my list of top five restaurants EVER. A salad bar is a salad bar and Sweet Tomato doesn't necessarily have anything over any other salad bar EXCEPT for they have focaccia bread. Very, very tasty focaccia bread. And I've always wanted to try to make it. So, fast forward to Monday, when I received my bi-monthly Taste of Home magazine and what should appear on the cover? An answer to my desires.
At first glance, this looked to be really easy, but turns out it wasn't so much. For starters, I needed to leave more time for rising because it took a lot longer than I expected. About 2 hours in total rising time alone. Also, I have never been able to "shape" my dough--any dough--into anything other than "blob". I'm not sure how to go about doing this. I should probably read up on it. Do other people have a special skill that allows them to "shape" their dough into rectangles and circles?
So without further ado:
1 pkg (1/4 oz) active dry yeast
1 C warm water (110-115 degrees)
2 T olive oil, divided
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp thyme
1 tsp rosemary
1/2 tsp basil
Dash pepper
2 to 2 1/2 C all-purpose flour
2 plum tomatoes, thinly sliced
1/4 C mozzarella cheese
1 T grated parmesan cheese
1. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. Add 1 T oil, salt, sugar, garlic powder, herbs, pepper, and 1 1/2 cups flour. Beat until smooth. Stir in enough remaining flour to form a soft dough (dough will be sticky).
2. Turn onto a floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 6-8 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease the top. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.
3. Punch dough down. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes. Shape(???) into a 13 in. x 9 in. rectangle; place on a greased baking sheet. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes. With fingertips, make several dimples over top of dough.
4. Brush dough with remaining oil; arrange tomatoes over the top. Sprinkle with cheeses. Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes our until golden brown. Remove to a wire rack.
This turned out really good, but I used beefsteak tomatoes instead of plum tomatoes and it made the top of the bread soggy. Definitely use plum tomatoes. Other than that, I think it was another winner. This would be the perfect summertime meal paired with a pasta salad.
And the best part was the nutritional data:
Nutritional Data (The loaf I made I cut up into 8 (good sized) portions)
Per serving:
Calories: 233
Total Fat: 5.4 g
Carbohydrates: 38 g
Protein: 7.4 g
At first glance, this looked to be really easy, but turns out it wasn't so much. For starters, I needed to leave more time for rising because it took a lot longer than I expected. About 2 hours in total rising time alone. Also, I have never been able to "shape" my dough--any dough--into anything other than "blob". I'm not sure how to go about doing this. I should probably read up on it. Do other people have a special skill that allows them to "shape" their dough into rectangles and circles?
So without further ado:
1 pkg (1/4 oz) active dry yeast
1 C warm water (110-115 degrees)
2 T olive oil, divided
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp thyme
1 tsp rosemary
1/2 tsp basil
Dash pepper
2 to 2 1/2 C all-purpose flour
2 plum tomatoes, thinly sliced
1/4 C mozzarella cheese
1 T grated parmesan cheese
1. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. Add 1 T oil, salt, sugar, garlic powder, herbs, pepper, and 1 1/2 cups flour. Beat until smooth. Stir in enough remaining flour to form a soft dough (dough will be sticky).
2. Turn onto a floured surface; knead until smooth and elastic, about 6-8 minutes. Place in a greased bowl, turning once to grease the top. Cover and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.
3. Punch dough down. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes. Shape(???) into a 13 in. x 9 in. rectangle; place on a greased baking sheet. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes. With fingertips, make several dimples over top of dough.
4. Brush dough with remaining oil; arrange tomatoes over the top. Sprinkle with cheeses. Bake at 400 degrees for 20-25 minutes our until golden brown. Remove to a wire rack.
This turned out really good, but I used beefsteak tomatoes instead of plum tomatoes and it made the top of the bread soggy. Definitely use plum tomatoes. Other than that, I think it was another winner. This would be the perfect summertime meal paired with a pasta salad.
And the best part was the nutritional data:
Nutritional Data (The loaf I made I cut up into 8 (good sized) portions)
Per serving:
Calories: 233
Total Fat: 5.4 g
Carbohydrates: 38 g
Protein: 7.4 g
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Picture Perfect Tuesday #3
J.'s camera is still out of commission, but lucky you, you get two weeks from my camera!
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