Jami's Cooking Tips, Soup Edition

You know that old saying "Too much of a good thing"? It's an old saying for a reason: it's true. I am making Italian Wedding Soup for dinner. We had a chicken the other night (yes, I bought more chicken, but the whole chickens were buy one, get one, AND on sale!!). I like to make stock from the carcass, because then I feel like I'm really getting my money's worth. This led to a big pot of chicken broth with no real plan. Sometimes I just ladle it into tupperwares and freeze it for when I need broth, but really, I wanted to do something with it. Hmm, we have spinach in the freezer, and those little mini meatballs Eddie likes. I figured I'd get some of those little pasta balls (acini di pepe) and make wedding soup. Today I got a box of the pasta at the store, put the pot of stock back on the stove, added the meatballs, some spinach and I look at the box of pasta. Hmmm, how much to put in? They're so little. Yes, I know they absorb liquid, but they are still pretty teeny, even all cooked, right? I put in half of the box. I stir. I wait awhile. I stir again. You can barely even see that there are noodles in there! Eddie looooves the pasta; the Husband and I might end up with bowls of broth. So I dump in the rest of the pasta and leave it to simmer. Half hour later, I come back in to stir and find . . . A bowl of very wet noodles with some spinach. They have taken over the entire pot. Yup. You couldn't even call it soup to be nice. It's pasta with some chicken flavor. Fear not, dear reader! I took myself off to the chest freezer and retrieved several of my previously stored tupperwares of broth. A few minutes in the microwave and viola! (I like to pronounce this "VEE-ohla") - I have somewhat wetter noodles. At least it's now at least close enough that one could call it soup, if one is feeling generous. So, what's for dinner? Noodles, spinach, meatballs, and a touch of broth.

Jami Ponders Alcohol

Recently, I wrote this post about how I can't fathom hopping into the sack with strangers. When I had discussed this previously with an acquaintance, he mentioned that it happens more when one is intoxicated. Then last week, I heard a tale of a neighbor who took a stroll out of his house, into the public street naked and drunk. And I just have to ask, can you really blame the booze? I have to say no. I'm no alcoholic, but I'll admit to having tied one on a few times. I have been drunk. I'll even fess up to the fact that I love being tipsy. Not the home-in-a-shopping-cart drunk, but you know, having a nice buzz. So I'm not saying that I don't know how or why one gets drunk. BUT, having been as drunk as a person can be and still be mobile, I've never - NEVER- taken my clothes off in public. I've never even kissed a stranger, let alone gone home with one. I think that this points to a moral failing, more than alcohol-controlled shenanigans. Yes, the drink can loosen the inhibitions, but I just don't believe it can make you do something that you are definitely morally against. Example, at a bachelorette party, I stole the tiara off of an unconscious bride-to-be. Something that I would not have done sober? Yes. Something that I find abhorrent and embarrassing? No. If you're wearing a crown, don't pass out around drunk people who like crowns. (I did return the crown later). But I didn't knock her out and steal it. I didn't slip a mickey into her drink to get it. See? Lower inhibitions, not total lack of morals. Just sayin'.

Jami Recognizes a Loss

Most likely the name Gregory McDonald doesn't mean a thing to you. You probably have seen his most famous work, though - Fletch. The movie, while great and a definitely classic, really isn't that close to the novel. Actually, to the terrific series of novels. They are equaled by the Flynn series. Mr. McDonald passed away earlier this month - I only just learned. I love the Fletch book especially for their wry wit, clever clues and "real" detective work. I sometimes read them thinking how different the stories would be in the days of Google, cell phones and GPS devices. Fletch, clever and curious, isn't a bumbling/lucky detective, but a quick-witted, tenacious journalist who knows when there's a story and has a questionable moral code. Flynn is brilliant and almost opposite of Fletch, and they even meet in one of the novels (I believe it's "Confess, Fletch" but don't quote me on that). So farewell, Mr. McDonald. Thank you for the gift of hours and hours of escaping into the stories.

Jami's Chicken Fetish

I have a problem. It's true. I can't stop buying chicken when it goes on sale. See, chicken is delicious, fairly good for you and can be prepared approximately 17 million different ways. So, with our tight budget, when I see a good price for chicken, I buy quite a bit. We have this nice chest freezer in the basement, which holds lots of frozen foods, and so I have no worries about room for it. We were getting to the point where the Husband evinced some worry. He noticed that our freezer contained an abnormal amount of chicken, for a family of three. Even a family that really likes chicken. He even asked me "are you planning something that involves a lot of chicken?" I explained about the good prices. He suggested I lay off buying chicken for awhile. So, last week I was doing the grocery shopping and I walk by a cooler with a big sign that says "Chicken Leg Quarters - 99 cents/pound". I walk to the cooler. I look in. I tell myself, "We have lots of chicken. We don't need chicken." The leg quarters aren't the Husband's favorite part. He finds them a bit awkward to eat. With great effort, I wrench myself from the cooler, grip the cart and slowly wheel away from the good priced chicken. I turn the corner to the meat section . . . . Bam! Right before my eyes is a small hot-pink sign "FAMILY PACK CHICKEN THIGHS - 89 cents/pound!!! This store only, while supplies last". Well. I can't pass that up. There were 5 left. I took them all. I have a problem. My name is Jami and I'm addicted to cheap chicken. I got home and started to put the chicken into the freezer. I rotate, of course, to make sure the ones I bought first are on top, and as I'm doing this, I start to keep a running total in my head. Hmm, right around 40 pounds. That seems like a lot. So I bring one up to put in the fridge and thaw for cooking. I pop it in the fridge, then realize that I probably have one in the upstairs freezer, awaiting thawing and eating. Opening the freezer, I find that I was wrong. There wasn't a pack of chicken in the upstairs freezer. There were 4. Another almost 10 pounds of chicken. We're having chicken tonight.

Jami Finally Gets to Blog

Ah - busy as usual. It's no excuse. I have used my normal blog time this week to play Plantasia on Yahoo. I don't know why, I just couldn't stop playing it. I'd be composing my blogs in my head while killing beetles and watering my cacti and then it would be waaaayyyy too late to blog. Here's what's gone on, in the real world: Eddie had his last Gymboree class. He handled it totally well, even composing and singing the "Last Gymboree class! Last Gymbo class for meee!!!!" song while I sniffled back tears and couldn't even think "this is our last parachute time" without getting all mushy. Eddie had preschool orientation and his first day (today). In typical Eddie fashion, we had the following conversation: Me: Did you have fun? Eddie: No Me: Did you play any games? Eddie: No Me: Did you sing any songs? Eddie: No Me: Did you color? Eddie: No Me: What did you learn? Eddie: Nothing! Me: Was Miss Courtney nice? Eddie: NO! Me: Okay, do you want to go back? Eddie: YES!!!!!! My MOPS group started this week - yay! It reminds me of those few days when you go back to college before classes start; you see all your friends you haven't seen all summer, you catch up, meet a couple new people, get back into the flow, but there's no boring classes or stressful homework. That's MOPS, preclass college days for mommies. My brother, his wife and their adorable son visited (Note: All my nephews, my one niece and my 2 1/2 goddaughters are all adorable, except the half-goddaughter who is almost sixteen and would certainly NOT want me calling her adorable - but she is). Eddie loves hanging with his cousins, although he views this one with some suspicion as Z is younger and therefore likely to steal trains if we aren't vigilant. Eddie and Z played at the park and spent some time at Grammy's house. Good times. That's about all the news for now. I'll try to tear myself away from the virtual garden again soon.

Jami Doesn't Do That

There are many, many, many things that people do that I don't understand. I'm never going to understand humans on the whole, you know? Too much out there that is way beyond my comprehension, on many levels. But one that never fails to confound me is how people have "one night stands" or "hook up" with strangers. Ick!! You don't know where (or who) that person has been (with). I can not understand getting nekkid in front of a stranger. I've had the same doctor for 10 years and I still use the nice paper outfit for her. And rubbing your private bits on someone else's who you don't even know their last name?? I don't even like shaking hands with strangers. The people who just meet you and hug make me shudder. Yet after a few drinks worth of chat you want to get as close to someone else as humanly possible with as much of your bodies can touch? Ewwwww. No. Just saying.

Jami Celebrates September 11

I struggled with the title of this. Certainly the word isn't one we associate with the tragedy of that infamous day. I ended up looking it up on dictionary.com, and the first definition is "to observe (a day) or commemorate (an event) with ceremonies or festivities". And that's sort of what I was going for. This year I took a different tack to planning the day. In the past, I've tried to eliminate all the unnecessary activities, to spend time praying for the survivors, those who lost loved ones and the brave heroes from that day. But when I was thinking about it this year, I decide that a better way to honor those who died is to spend the day celebrating our lives. We slept in, cuddled in bed as a family, went to the zoo, went to "Old McDonalds" as Eddie calls his favorite fast food place. We had ice cream. I went to a play with a friend and out afterward for a few beers with some friends. It was a day to recognize the goodness that we have. We were blessed to not lose anyone, and for that I thank God. But we should all remember how fragile and unplanned life can be. Let's grab every moment together we can. Watch the baby orangutan climb with awe on our faces. Giggle at an old inside joke. Hug our loved ones as tight as we can. Never let a chance to laugh or sing or love go by. That honors the lives lost more than a ceremony, or a bell toll, or a wreath.

Jami Must Need a New Calendar . . .

Because mine didn't mention that today is Drive Like a Jackass Day. Which, clearly it was, and I went out driving all unprepared for being surrounded by total jerks. Grrrr! And yes, I know we all have our bad moments, but really: 1. During the rainstorm, on a steep hill that was muddy with construction stuff and those metal plates over parts of the road, I'm stopped at a red light. The driver of this HUGE truck apparently decides this is the perfect situation to attempt to drive directly up to the back of my car. I doubt you could have gotten a dollar bill between our cars. The car ahead of me rolls up a bit and I try to move forward, too. My wheels spin, I can feel the car slide back a teensy before I move up maybe one car length, and at that point the truck creeps up into my tailpipe again. He proceeds to follow me for several more blocks like that, to the point where I almost threw on the emergency break at one light so I could get out and ask him, just out of curiosity, why he feels the need to try to drive into my trunk. Is he trying to mate our cars? Drafting? 2. I saw two different people make left turns from a right lane, two different places/times. 3. At a light where the car ahead of me, me and the one behind me were all going to make a right, there is an ambulance coming from the direction we're going to. The people in the opposite side are moving into what would be our lane to allow it through just as our light turns green. Car Ahead and I slowly pull out into the right lane and Car Behind lays on the horn, pulls our around us into the lane the people are moving into and screeches to a halt inches from the people who pulled over. The ambulance goes by and Car Behind honks (at the ambulance? the other drivers?) again. I can see three kids in his car, who almost got to experience a crash. 4. Even bicyclists were in on it as I followed two of them who apparently had decided that because they were on their bicycles, basic rules of traffic don't apply to them. I also saw a wide selection of people ignoring stop signs, speeding like crazy and one woman who apparently thought that rainy conditions mean all speed limits are halved. The next time we have one of these days, can someone let me know so I can plan to stay at home, on the second floor? Because it's only a matter of time until one of these idiots ends up in my dining room.

Jami in Black and White

Yesterday I saw a movie which included a funeral scene which took place in Asia. The last several times I've seen Asia funerals portrayed, I've really thought that white is definitely a better funeral color than black. White better represents the grief and ache than black - here's my thinking: White is stark. White's empty and harsh. White, like death, is unforgiving. White hurts your eyes; it's blinding. Black is comforting and soothing. When my head or eyes hurt, I want darkness; it cools my pain. Black wraps everything in its shadows and hides flaws or faults. Black absorbs warmth. Black has always been my comfort zone. A widow might look attractive in a black dress and veil - a man in a dark suit might be going to a funeral or a nice dinner, but the family of the deceased draped in those achingly white robes screams loss. When I see the white, I think the very barrenness of it expresses the place in our soul experiencing that same starkness where once there was a love. White wails, not sobs softly.

Jami Can Do Without These People

No, not a specific list of names of people that I wouldn't miss if they suddenly ceased to exist, but the types of people that make my life less pleasant. I only bring this up because I was thinking about some of these people-types and how we all sometimes have some of these personality problems, but some folks live their lives in these modes (purposely or not). These aren't the horrid people you avoid at all costs, just the annoying ones that you will find no matter what. The Deflater: At first, I thought deflaters were just sort of story-toppers (you know, the ones who always have a story that's better, funnier, scarier, whatever, than yours) who were also pessimists, but I've started to see that this is a whole new category. The deflater is the person who always has to take the wind out of your sails (hence the name). They might do it by topping your story, "Oh, you got a promotion? I got a promotion that includes a company car and my own secretary" or they might just poke holes in what you're happy about: "You got a promotion? Gee, that's going to mean a lot more work and hours. Of course if you mess up, it'll be more noticeable after you got promoted and all" Deflaters might call themselves "realists" but honestly, they're just sucking your wind to puff their own sails a little. The Happy Martyr: My first experience with an HM was in high school. One friend always put herself waaaaay out for someone, some cause, some group, whatever, to collect the accolades that go with it. "Oh, Sarah forgot her homework, and she's failing and all you know, so I walked back to the high school and broke into her locker and got the homework and did it, turned it in. Sure it took me 16 hours, but I love to do things for others, you know?" I'm all for helping, charity, whatever, but you do it, and that's that. If you spend all your time talking about how busy/exhausted/etc. you are and then always mention that you are just thrilled to do it, even though it meant you didn't eat for 3 days, you're missing the boat. The One Topic Talker: There are times this is forgivable - first pregnancy/new baby, two weeks before/after a wedding (yours, or a close relative's, NOT just any wedding), or any major life changing event. If it's not one of those things, then read some books, get cable TV, watch the news, ANYTHING you have to do to acquire a new topic to talk about. Yes, I'm sure you had a great time at Whatever University twenty-five years ago, but I've heard all your move in, move out, roommate, class schedule and drunken frat party stories and really, it's enough. Don't you hate these people when they can take whatever the conversation is and steer it back to their pet subject? "Yes, this wine is excellent and it reminds me of a funny thing that happened when I was working on the car I'm restoring . . ." NO!! We talked about your *)*#% car for an hour and half, say the word "car" again and I'm going to stick your carburetor where the headlights don't shine. That's my little rant for today.

Jami Has Not Vanished, I Promise

Sigh, so the place we stayed did not have an internet connection that I could access. That's the first week I was missing. Then we got home and apparently the extended power outage we missed turned off our wireless connection, which took us a good time to figure out and that confused our poor wireless card, which had to be uninstalled and reinstalled and at that point I had, I don't know, a bazillion emails. Plus, on the work front, my division has been sold, so I had to attend online training sessions. This is not fun. Not that training is ever a hoot, but when training the wide variety of people in our company, it's sort of like being in one of those old-fashioned one room school houses, you know? Where I'm the teenager who is listening in on the teacher working with the little ones. Think I'm being arrogant? Here's the actual conversation that started one of the conference calls that I was on - the instructions we received ended with "Once you are connected, please mute your phone. If your phone does not have a mute button, you can use *6 to mute it for the conference. *6 again will unmute it for questions". I connect, mute my phone and hear: Man 1: Hello?? Am I in the right place? Is this (company name) training? Woman 1: Yes. Please mute your phone because there are going to be close to 100 people on this call and the background noise becomes distracting. You can unmute it for the Q&A. Man 1: Should I mute it now? Woman 2: Hello? Is this the training thing? Man 1: Yes. Should we mute our phones? Woman 1: Yes, please use *6 to mute your phone. (long pause) Woman 2: It's not working! Man 1: I should mute my phone now? Won't there be role-call? Woman 1: No role call, we can see who is connected. Please mute your phone. Woman 2: I'm trying to mute my phone, but it's not working. I pushed the star and the 6 and nothing happened. I did it a bunch of times. Should I hold them both down together? Woman 1: No, just push the star and then the 6. Man 1: So mute it now? Woman 1: yes, please mute your phone now. Woman 2: it's still not working! Man 1: you're pushing the star thing and the 6? Woman 2: yes. It's not working. Man 1: it worked for me. I muted it and then I unmuted it. Woman 2: What does mute mean, anyway? I'm not making that up. I don't know what the heck she expected it to do, but she was apparently muting and unmuting her phone over and over and insisting it wasn't working, because she couldn't tell that there was a difference. Later in the call, another woman asked if she would have to get her own computer because she didn't have one and hadn't ever used one and she was at her daughter's house who had set the whole thing up for her. One woman said, and I still haven't figured this out "I have to have dial up connection, you know, because of the Amish out here." Can anyone explain that to me? So, anyway, with vacation, new job training, my birthday party and my actual birthday (today, BTW), blogging had sort of slipped down my list. But I'm back, baby. For now, anyway.