and now for something completely different...

Would you like to take a survey?
Do you like baked beans? Do you like George Wendt? Would you like to see a movie with George Wendt eating beans?



Ok, no really. Do you like web comics? Do you like yarn? Did you answer yes to at least one of those? My friend Kelly's uber-talented husband is in a comic contest...surf on over to her site, tell her I sent you, and vote for her boy! (and while you're at it, visit her stash page on rav and pick out 2 yarns you like...if the RNG gods pick you, she'll send you one of them! All for just voting for her boy! whee!!)

Not in front of the children...

...but instead, loud enough so they can hear you all over the rest of the house. And no, it's not an even remotely fun activity I'm talking about here....it's yet another battle in the break up of my parents marriage. This one fight will probably stick with me forever, that's how vividly I remember it. The time and day, I couldn't tell you, but what my sister and I experienced is still very clear.

I have absolutely no idea what they were fighting about this time...money? maybe. dad cheating? quite possibly. There were shouts of "Fuck you" back and forth. My sister's room was directly above theirs, and we could hear every shout. I couldn't take away the words she was hearing (she was 10, I was almost 13), and all I could do was hold her as she sobbed. Then it occurred to us, maybe they're yelling because of us. So quiet as mice we crept downstairs and did the dishes and put laundry in, and tried to be as perfect as we could, convinced that our doing chores around the house without being asked would stop the fighting. (Our folks had yet to have the "mom and dad still love each other but can't live with each other and it has nothing to do with you" talk yet. and wouldn't for some time.)

Long story short, it didn't stop the fighting...the only thing that did was dad moving out, just before my sister's birthday.

And people wonder why I hate conflict...

Pasta Sauce

I decided tonight that what I really needed (mentally, anyway) was an evening making homemade tomato sauce and a glass of red wine. After an entertaining encounter at Dover Wines (a story for another time) and an expedition to Tuttles for appropriate materials, I headed home. The recipe is as follows (if only for me!)

8-10 roma tomatoes
5 on the vine beefsteak tomatoes
1 large shallot
1/2 a green pepper
2 large garlic cloves
olive oil
balsamic vinegar
red wine
pinch of kosher salt
12 basil leaves, chiffonaded
handful of italian parsley, chopped
1/2t dried oregano (fresh would be better, but Tuttles didn't have any, and I forgot to go to Fiddleheads to see if they had any)
1 20 oz can of crushed tomatoes
1T tomato paste

dice up the aromatics, chopping them up nice and small. Soften over med-low heat in olive oil. Shallots first, then peppers, then garlic so it doesn't burn. Add the tomatoes, tomato paste, a splash of balsamic vinegar, crushed tomatoes, and herbs. Dump whatever's left in your current glass of wine (what, you didn't think I'd *just* cook with it, did you?!), pour yourself another glass, and wait for the sauce to be done.

Add tomatoes

Regrets...

So Kate has started a little blog activity, to post at least once a week on Weds, writing about a given topic. Since my brain seems to be in need of a little creative stretching, I figure it's worth a shot.

Most of my major regrets at this point seem to stem from high school. Some are much more benign than others, almost petty, really, but regrets nonetheless. I will say, while there are times when I think about why I did or didn't do something, I will inevitably follow that thought train until I get to the realization that if I hadn't made the choices I did, I wouldn't be where and who I am now...and by and large, I like myself.

Do I regret leaving Mt.Ararat a year early? Sometimes. Not so much for the education though, but for the people I left behind. At the time, I felt like I was pretty well written off by my classmates, so I fell out of touch pretty quickly with most of them. Now, however, I'm happy to hear from them, but wonder just how much I missed over the last 10 years....

Do I regret not taking my graduation money and hitting Europe? Definitely. However, I have a honeymoon coming where that can all be remedied.

I'm sure there are other things I will think of (and of course, add) as the day goes on...

Hilarity

I'm thrilled. Not to be here, just thrilled.
-Steve Martin on the Colbert Report.