CHEESE-y Cake

Last night we traveled to Montecito to visit my sister-in-law (hubby's sister). It was Tim’s birthday and she offered to make dinner for us - complete with cake and all. At this point, I should have been a bit suspicious. Madelyn is going to cook???? And make a cake? Madelyn usually makes reservations. And she does it beautifully, I might add.

After last nights’ dining experience, I had to talk to Madelyn about her cooking session. I needed to find out what made her tick.

ME:
Thanks for having us to your house. It is fun to celebrate your little brother’s birthday with you.

I am not used to you cooking, so thanks for that, also.

The pot roast was awesome. And who can resist bacon in with the green beans? The new potatoes were to die for.

The cheesecake looked beautiful. The candles were great on it. The blueberry sauce you poured so perfectly over each slice looked great. The entire presentation was awesome. The fact that we were eating dessert outside, at night, under only firelight should have made me suspicious.

I’d like to ask you a few questions about it.

So, you’re in the house alone. You decided to make a cheesecake for your little brother. Tell me about that.

Madelyn:
I opened the fridge to get the ingredients for the cheesecake. I heard somewhere that it was best to let the eggs warm up.

ME: 

You mean come to room temperature?

Madelyn:
Yeah, whatever. So, I noticed I was a pound of cream cheese shy. Rather than running the 10 minutes to the store, I looked in the cheese drawer for a substitute. Lo and behold - brie jumped into my hand. It was a nice new pound of brie - it cost $12. I decided that I’d use that and add a little extra sugar.

ME:
Now tell the truth. Did you just say sugar, but mean splenda? Was that on, or off, the record?

Madelyn:
OOPS….I’m busted. I was out of sugar too. I used sundried herbally purified whole cane sugar. It was brown. I thought it would give the cake a nice color.

ME:
Did you adjust the temperature or length of time cooking?

Madelyn:
At 45 minutes, I opened the door and the cake was still jiggling. I noticed the oven had been turned off. I'm still not sure who did that. I turned the oven back on, and continued to cook the CHEESE (being the operative word) cake for about 20 extra minutes.

At this point, I thought I may have discovered something new and decided to keep my mouth shut just . That was, until I bit into the raspberry sauce laced cheesecake, served outside in the dark.

ME:
I have to admit, I was trying to be nice, but the first bite about killed me.

Madelyn:
It was one of the worst desserts I've ever had. Maybe I should stick to making reservations.

ME:
I love you anyway. You owe me a slice of cheesecake, preferably, not homemade.

Wordless Wednesday - WHOA!

13 Cents, A Hornet’s Nest, A Fingernail and A Secret Compartment

We were cleaning the 1965 comet Station wagon yesterday (that poor thing, while it runs, has been sitting for at least a year unloved), and I found lots of miscellaneous items:

• 1 dime
• 3 pennies
• 1 hornet’s nest in the passenger side of the rear door jamb - luckily, the hornet’s disappeared - probably somewhere near Kansas on the cross country trek
• cigarette butts in the back seat ashtrays
• 1 steak knife
• 1 Lee press on nail, french tip, probably the pinky
• 1 tube sock (stop it, Edna!)
• a bunch of red dirt that could have only come from Moab Utah (or maybe Arizona)
• 1 ballpoint pen from Napa Auto Parts in Breckenridge, Colorado
• assorted nuts and bolts
• attached and working seat belts (bonus - somebody bought the “safety package” in 1965, when seat belts were still optional)
• 1 pair of green rubber gloves
• white dog hair
• 2 dark green felt squares
• original front floor mats, believed to have once been opaque, but are now dirt colored (I think they may come back)
• 1 old can of brake fluid
• 1 older can of power steering fluid
• 1 crumpled up grocery list written on a pink not-so-sticky-anymore note (milk, eggs, whiskey) Ramos Fizz anyone? 
• lots and lots of dirt
• 1 window crank from another automobile
• 1 secret compartment underneath the carpet in the back

The secret compartment is, of course, very interesting to me. Mostly because I am fascinated with boxes. I simply cannot walk past a box in a store, whether it is a cedar chest, jewelry box or decorative tin, without opening it up. There is something so secretive about a box - you can put your most treasured items in it and it is somehow secret. Anyway, the secret compartment is about a cereal box size in width, and maybe 6 inches deep. Inside the compartment was where I found the steak knife, a few nuts and bolts, one penny, the rubber gloves and the bottles of fluid.

My imagination takes me on a completely different trek with the secret compartment hidden under the carpet of Buckwheat, but that is a story for another day.

Oh yes, we have officially named her. A big holler goes out to Traci Adams who inadvertently named the car:

BUCKWHEAT. 

Thanks to all who submitted names for her. When you meet her, you will understand.

Wordless WEDNESDAY: The car I bought on e-bay!

IMPROG: BETTER is the word

Today I have pulled “BETTER” out of the envelope that Susan sent me the beginning of the year. I think I failed to mention that the envelope she used was made out of her old calendar. It’s better than anything she could have purchased. She's crafty like that, Susan is, apparent by her making do blog. 

I could blog about this word - BETTER -  all day long, but first, I am going to eat my toasted English muffin with butter on it, because the ads tell me that everything tastes better with butter. I’m going to have to agree with that.

On Sunday, I was cleaning house and my hubby had a soccer game to coach. As he was headed out the door, he said playfully, “You better get the rest of this done by the time I get back.”

When he came home and I asked how the game went, he told me the girls were so much better than the previous week. This led me to believe they won, and win they did 5-0. A big shout out to my girls on the VIXENS (Taylor, Sone, Jamie, Julii).
This day just keeps getting better, even though it is only 7:30am.

My house is clean and my plants are watered. My organizational skills are getting better. Well, except for that big pile of papers that came out of my filing cabinet last week, and I suspect this is the reason my house is so clean; it’s because of all that paperwork I had to deal with!

Rather than eating an English muffin, my hubby said that we should go down and eat at Frank’s, the most awesome breakfast and hot dog place in San Luis Obispo. Their motto???? Big Weenies are Better. Their t-shirts and hats practically fly out the door. And I ask you, who wouldn't want one? 

I just got a phone call from the car transport company. He is leaving Santa Maria as we speak and I get my new/old car within the hour. He had better hurry up, I am a bit impatient!

My 1965 Comet station wagon is here! 
My 1965 Comet station wagon is here!
My 1965 Comet station wagon is here!


For those of you who don't know me well - the story is that my company name is Comet Realty, thus the Comet wagon. I suspect tomorrow’s blog will be a picture day, devoted to the wagon, but I would like to leave you with one that is truly funny, especially if you read this regularly (and if you don’t, you must read this entry - I bought a car on e-bay). 

Have a BETTER day!

GREEN THINGS

May Luck Be Upon This Site

Wear your green proud! 

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, in late January, two silly friends (who refused to grow up) lived. We will call them Dixie and Trixie.
 
One day, while they were at the dog park, they noticed a poodle running around, pretending like it was a real dog, as poodles will do; but with one exception: the poodle had a mohawk that had been dyed blue. Dixie was completely in awe. Trixie was a bit disgusted, but had to admit that it was pretty funny. Dixie began to talk to the owner (a punk ass goth chick, who also had her hair dyed blue, and one of those nose rings - not just a little diamond stud in the nostril, mind you, but a barbell that spanned the lower part of both nostrils - like a bull).
 
The next day came and went. As did the next day. Then Dixie showed up at Trixie’s house with a brown paper bag and an evil grin. She walked in and announced that they were going to dye their hair too. Trixie protested, and Dixie smiled and said, "Not the hair on you head, silly!"
 
So, off they went into the bathroom, where they dyed their pubic hair pink. Of course, being that Dixie did her research and made a point to talk to the punk ass goth chick, she knew that first you had to bleach the hair (remove the color) before you could put the color on it or it wouldn't work. Forty five minutes later, Dixie and Trixie came out of the bathroom smiling with little twinkles in their eyes, because of the little twinkle in their pants. And just in time for Valentine's Day!

Dixie and Trixie loved their little secret, except they could not keep it secret. Every chance they got, they dropped their drawers (in unison) to show people what they had done. This was made easier by Lucky Jeans, whose tag line behind every zipper is “Lucky You”. The jeans are already a good conversation starter, which then leads to a great discussion about colored pubic hair.

Dixie and Trixie had so much fun with their little “skit”; they decided to do a different color for each month, depending on the corresponding holiday.

Even in this far away land, the calendar still remained the same, and after February and Valentine’s Day came March and St. Patrick’s Day.

Since March was a rainy month down near the coast, it was a snowy month in the mountains. This is one thing Trixie never could resist - snow and winter activities. Off she went to visit her friend Pixie and Pixie’s three year old son, Gordon in another land far, far away.

One day, after Trixie participated in her favorite, but cold, activity she was at Pixie’s home taking a shower to try to warm up. After she had used up most of the hot water in the log cabin, she plucked a towel off the rack and began vigorously drying herself off.

Gordon (he’s three, remember) entered the bathroom, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Trixie, who did not want to discourage him from seeing other people naked, just continued to towel dry her hair.

Gordon said, “WOW. Auntie Trixie. You got a green pee-pee.”

Trixie had completely forgotten all about this for the moment and brought the towel back down in front of her, and said, “Well, yes, Gordon. Yes, I do.”

Gordon seemed to be satisfied with the answer and left, closing the door behind him.

Trixie started to laugh. In fact, she laughed so hard she had to sit down. She knew that she was going to have to tell Pixie about the incident, as it could cause some serious questions later.

After she got dressed, she told Pixie what had happened. About that time, Gordon came out of his room, and asked Pixie, “Mommy, what color is YOUR peepee?”

Trying very hard not to roll over into hysterics, Pixie, as calmly as she could, replied that it was red (Pixie being a redhead and all.)

Three year olds will be three year olds, and Gordon took it upon himself to ask everybody in his preschool what color their peepee was, which then prompted Pixie to have to tell the story of Trixie and her wild ways to all of Gordon’s teachers.

To this day, I am sure that Gordon will continue to try to find his perfect woman---she will be the one with the green peepee.

 

For those of you inspired to do something fun for St. Patrick’s Day - there is still time! Run (don’t walk) to your nearest beauty supply store. Tell the girl behind the counter what you are doing so she can point you in the right direction. Remember, you must bleach, before you go green!

 

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Wear your green proud!

Panic buy carrots on May 15 & dye your pubes orange for the May!

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: unfortunate sign placement

view www.WordlessWednesdays.com for more fun photos

IMPROG: EXTRA! EXTRA! Read All About It!!!

EXTRA! EXTRA! Read all about it!

Depending on your age, the word EXTRA will bring different images and thoughts into your head. I see a kid on a street corner, selling newspapers hollering:

EXTRA! EXTRA! Read all about it! 

Things sure have changed since then.

When I pulled Susan’s improg word out of the envelope today and saw the word---EXTRA---I imagined a dapper young 14 year old kid (probably from the 1930’s) dressed in wool trousers held up by suspenders, a worn but clean white button down shirt, a Greek fisherman’s cap and a worn trenchoat, standing on a busy corner of San Francisco (you can choose whichever city you want), holding up the daily issue of the world’s news.

Newspapers were big time back then. Newspapers were big time even 10 years ago.

And now? It’s all about the world-wide-web, baby. Probably the people who decided on calling it the world wide web (www) thought briefly about naming it XXX. I am sure that came to a screeching halt in the boardroom where that decision was being made.

I admit that we subscribe to our local newspaper, but I don’t read it. My hubby reads it and if there is anything earth shattering (like a great Bizarro or Dilbert cartoon) he will share it with me. I might look at the classifieds on a Friday or Saturday to see if there are any great Estate Sales I have to go buy clutter from.

And, as posted earlier, I get most of my news from the supermarket line news rags, and on-line. I did find some earth-shattering news I thought you should know about.

EXTRA! EXTRA! Read All About It!

That’s right. There are no smoke-free zones in hell. I don’t know that I have thought much about it, but I don’t imagine they ask you if you want a table in the smoking or non-smoking section. 

So, for all you ex-smokers and healthy people, watch your p’s and q’s, and quit being an asshole (you know who you are). You might not be able to get away from that second hand smoke.

Peace on earth, good will toward men. NOT.

I love charity functions. I love the silent auctions at charity functions. I love the entertainment at charity functions.

I am going to tell you what I don’t love about charity functions.

Yesterday I went to a fantastic luncheon fashion show. The food was great. The entertainment was great. The silent auction items were great.

Several businesses donated lots of items for the silent auction, and all proceeds go to the charity. The way it works is you walk around and write down your name and a monetary bid for the item. Each item is clearly marked and has a separate bid sheet. The person with the highest bid wins the item. They had the tables set up by category: jewelry, baby items, spa packages, food gift baskets and clothing.

And then I saw the perfect pair of jeans. The all new craze of Tummy Tuck Jeans. Supposedly you put these puppies on and your tummy is flat again. Somebody donated 3 pairs (these things cost $100+ bucks a pair). What??? Nobody has bid on them yet? What are they waiting for, I wondered aloud. And that’s when I saw it. Those asshats donated 3 pairs of “tummy tuck” jeans in 3 different sizes: a size 2, a size 4 and a size 6.

Do you see where I am going with this?

When was the last time you saw somebody wearing a size 2 pair of pants? First of all, they should probably be eating donuts, because that is just too skinny. And secondly, you probably didn’t think to yourself, well, she would be hot if she didn’t have that tummy sticking over the waist band of her jeans.

What asshole thought that they were doing a good thing by donating something for somebody who doesn’t exist?

Nice peace on earth and good will toward men.

That’s a great way to get your ass kicked, shitbag.

Confessions...

I love Shake-n-Bake. I love it on chicken. I love it on pork chops.

And you want to know what the best accompaniment is? Yep, you guessed it, the San Francisco treat - Rice-A-Roni.


How is the sodium content on that?????? Of course, they have “lower cholesterol/calorie” directions on each box. But honestly, if I am going to eat food from a box, why would I do that????

When was the last time you had either one? Give yourself a treat. Go get a box of Shake-n-Bake (they sell it in 12 packs at Amazon.com). Of course, they sell it separately for pork and for chicken. I have a sneaky suspicion that they are the same thing and there is a conspiracy to get us to buy more. It works for them - I buy them separately - one box for pork, one box for chicken. and I don’t get the Oven-Fry. Just the plain old 1970’s It’s-made-with-Shake-n-Bake-and-I-helped, original recipe.

It is merchandised with the bread in some stores, and with the baking supplies in others. If you know where the bread crumbs are in your favorite grocery store, the Shake-n-Bake is near by. (If you have problems with shopping carts, you're not alone - Susan does too.)

It’s a real time saver too. They give you the little bag of crumbs and a bag. 45 minutes later (for chicken, bone in), or 15 minutes for pork chops, you have a little slice of heaven on your plate.

The Rice-A-Roni? The perfect one is Chicken with Mushroom (amazon sells them by the dozen, also). Although there is a typo on the back of the box with the directions. Don’t worry, I alerted them already and they sent me a coupon. Needless to say, don’t boil the butter. I like to put in a can of mushrooms (all packaged foods, remember), before you put the lid on.

For the perfect easy 30 minute pork chop meal? Start the Rice-A-Roni, throw in a small can of mushrooms, and put the lid on to simmer. Coat the pork chops in the Shake-n-Bake and put in oven at 425. Magically, they are done at the same time - a mere 15 minutes later.

For some real shits and giggles???? Serve it with applesauce, Mott's is the best, unless you have some homemade from Emily, my neighbor. 

If it’s good enough for Will Ferrell & John C. Riley in Talladega Nights, it’s good enough for you.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY

Newsflash: Saddam & Osama Adopted a Shaved Ape Baby

I, being the terrific packrat, save stuff. Important stuff! I was cleaning out my file cabinet and came across this November 2003 Weekly World News issue:
I know everybody scoffs at the Enquirer and the Star, but you have to admit that you read the headlines while standing in line at the grocery store (unless you are a cannibal that feasts on your neighbors and doesn’t have to buy groceries, story on page 23).

This is where I get most of my news. My Grandmother, Mable Holderness used to actually subscribe to these while I was growing up. There is a little slice of mid-west heaven for you. Reading material for the 8 year old!

These news rags fascinate me. Really - they are just pre-historic blogs. Someday our ancestors will find copies of these and treat them like cave drawings.

When my Grandmother was in the nursing home, I would send her monthly packages. They always contained one or two of the news rags. Obviously, I couldn’t part with this one and I will always wonder if my Grandmother was somehow deprived not knowing about Saddam & Osama and their shaved chimp. Who, incidentally, the ecstatic newlyweds named Robert.

Apparently, friction mounted as spurned pets took out frustration on the new arrival. The goat and camel were suffering sibling rivalry, at the time of printing. The goat was caught shredding several of Robert’s diapers and the camel was behaving very strangely.

I will have to research this to find out if more family portraits have been taken now. Although, according to CIA sources, the doting couple and their “boy” almost certainly have left the country.

It was unclear if Osama & Saddam knew the baby was a shaved ape, or if they were led to believe it was human.

Hopefully the two lovebirds have not taken the animals’ side and abandoned little Robert out in the desert somewhere.

IMPROG: DUCK (n.) is the word.

Duck????? My improg word is duck? Are you kidding me????? Had Susan not told me I needed to use duck as a noun, I would have used it differently.

EXAMPLE: you are playing with your rocket launcher and you accidentally shoot too low, you should yell “DUCK!” to alert the person the rocket is traveling at a fast speed directly at.

What about the game Duck, Duck, Goose. That is a noun, although it implies that you have to do the actual ducking (v) to play the game correctly. No, there must be something else.

I think about my mother-in-law, Martie, who “collected” rubber ducks and how I cannot see one and not think of her. But how many people would actually read a blog about a rubber duck? 

How about this? In November, I participated in the 3Day Susan Komen Event in San Diego, with my fabulous team - Minnie’s Breastkateers. (We are doing San Francisco this year)

And yes, I know we are dressed as mice and not ducks. Anyway, we camped out for 3 days (thus, the title). The park we were camping at was awesome - right along the water’s edge. They assigned spots, since there were over 5,000 participants (2 people to a tent).

There were lots of ducks in the water and on the grass. Needless to say there was also shitloads of duck poop on the lawn (where we were putting up our tents). My friend and tentmate, Marilyn, announced loudly to all within earshot: 

“WELCOME TO CAMP. Please pick up after your duck.”

This was (and still is) hilarious to me. I have this vision of people walking their ducks on leashes and having these tiny plastic bags to scoop their duck’s poop. This is even funnier if you have ever seen duck poop, and without getting into the specifics, imagine taking a burning candle and dripping wax onto the grass. It’s kinda like that. Only it’s black and white (I have no idea, so don’t ask).

And here we are again. I have somehow managed to take the word “duck” and talk about “poop”. That is why the improg thing works so well.

And once Susan and I get it together, we will start to improg on the same words. If you are interested in making IMPROG a part of your life, shoot me a message and we will do Improg Mondays. We will all get the same word (randomly chosen), and then see how others minds work.

In fact, if you are reading this, why don’t YOU try improgging about DUCK (n).

We all know that out of artificial, I can talk about dildos. And ducks? I can make it all about poop. I can also make the 3Day Event benefitting Susan Komen all about shoes! 

Let’s see how sick and twisted the rest of you are!

Welcome to improg. Please pick up after your duck.