Friday, November 25, 2016

Questions

Today is the ominously-named Black Friday, the official beginning of the winter holiday feeding frenzy shopping season, and I am spending it as I have spent every other Black Friday of my adult life. In my own home, doors locked, blinds drawn, avoiding anything that even smells like a holiday advertisement. The things I want for Christmas and Hanukkah and even my Boxing Day Birthday, aren't really things at all. I can't purchase them at Walmart or Target, and I know I won't be able to find them even on Amazon.

While I've been recovering from my mad spoon-spending spree (I blew all my spoons on Thanksgiving cooking) certain questions have been floating to the top of my consciousness, causing me a real amount of anxiety. The only thing standing between me and half of a Xanax is my considerable dislike for dependence on any kind of drug. So while I have a perfectly legal prescription, I prefer to save them for something a bit more catastrophic. Like a Donald Trump inauguration.

Which brings me back to those floating questions. At the top of the list:

What happens if Jill Stein successfully demands ballot recounts and it turns out that Hillary really did win the election, both the popular vote and the Electoral College? Does The Donald then have to concede? Will he line up all of his (mostly pathetic) Cabinet choices and bellow out "You've been fired!" Will his whole terrible "transition" dissolve into a mist, to be forgotten like a bad dream?

Will Peter Capaldi continue to portray The Doctor after the upcoming season? Will he be getting better scripts and a companion who hasn't totally confused the Whoniverse with 4 different major storylines, none of which really fit together?

Could it be that this is the last Thanksgiving for which I will be able to do all the traditional cooking?  (Damn fibromyalgia. There was a time I could prepare all the food for 20+ people, work full time while commuting 2 hours each way, and never break a sweat. I don't mind (well, not much) getting older but I do mind getting physically feeble.)
Tiny Turkeys

Tiny Tomatoes

And The Stuffing

Yes, you are correct, I have entirely too much time on my hands.

Something I did for me, just recently but many months in the making: I rather neatly replaced two of my main doctors.  Both my primary care physician and my psychiatrist lost their damn minds, somehow triggered by my disability claim. Not only did they not help me, they damn near sabotaged me.

I guess that means it was my turn to holler "You're fired!"

I'm still knitting lace patterns into squares.  It is very restful except when it's not. Frogging back rows of lace is a royal pain in the psyche, but the good news is that each square is no more that 41 stitches across.


The name of this pattern is "Panicles" but it should be called "Life In The Fast Lane." Wild knitting ride, cables AND lace together!




Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Happy Thanksgiving - Sweet Potato Soufflé

With Thanksgiving tomorrow, I expect many of you are already up to your elbows in stuffing and mashed potatoes (or lasagna or kasha varnishkes.)

Somehow I have managed to pull together the makings of a Thanksgiving dinner, spreading out my tasks over a number of days. Today it was deviled eggs, and now that they're done, I look forward to putting up my feet, throwing back a couple of much-needed pills, and knitting a lacy square.

I've been steering clear of political discourse these past few days, but I do read the news.  Based on several articles I've seen, I sincerely hope that Hillary Clinton requests a recount. And that's all I'm going to say about that; I'm no good to anybody if my head explodes before I get those Cornish hens into the oven.

Here's a recipe I cobbled together yesterday, starting with my mother's much-loved sweet potato pie - which isn't pie at all. Which is, I suppose, okay since my version is not really a soufflé. But it is good.

Sweet Potato Soufflé

2 - 29 oz. cans Bruce's Yams
2 eggs, separated
1 - 8 oz can crushed pineapple
1 - 15 oz. can S&W Sweet Memory Peaches chunks in light syrup with cinnamon and brown sugar
1 tablespoon Apricot brandy or Peach schnapps
1 stick of butter
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Drain the yams, pineapple and peaches, reserving the syrups.  Reduce the syrups over medium-high heat until just 2/3 of a cup remains. After the syrups have reduced by half, add the apricot brandy and continue until you have the 2/3 cup.  Stir in the cinnamon, ginger, and salt. Take off the heat, add the butter and set aside so that the butter melts and the mixture cools.


In a large mixing bowl, beat the yams until they are completely broken down. Add the 2 egg yolks and beat until smooth.  Fold in the pineapple and the room temperature syrup-butter mixture. Taste and reseason if desired.

Beat the egg whites until stiff peaks can be formed. Gently fold the egg whites into the yams. Spoon 2/3 of the mixture into a 2 quart glass soufflé dish.


Layer in all of the peaches, then add the remaining yam mixture.


Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 1 hour.







Happy Thanksgiving - Sweet Potato Soufflé

With Thanksgiving tomorrow, I expect many of you are already up to your elbows in stuffing and mashed potatoes (or lasagna or kasha varnishkes.)

Somehow I have managed to pull together the makings of a Thanksgiving dinner, spreading out my tasks over a number of days. Today it was deviled eggs, and now that they're done, I look forward to putting up my feet, throwing back a couple of much-needed pills, and knitting a lacy square.

I've been steering clear of political discourse these past few days, but I do read the news.  Based on several articles I've seen, I sincerely hope that Hillary Clinton requests a recount. And that's all I'm going to say about that; I'm no good to anybody if my head explodes before I get those Cornish hens into the oven.

Here's a recipe I cobbled together yesterday, starting with my mother's much-loved sweet potato pie - which isn't pie at all. Which is, I suppose, okay since my version is not really a soufflé. But it is good.

Sweet Potato Soufflé

2 - 29 oz. cans Bruce's Yams
2 eggs, separated
1 - 8 oz can crushed pineapple
1 - 15 oz. can S&W Sweet Memory Peaches chunks in light syrup with cinnamon and brown sugar
1 tablespoon Apricot brandy or Peach schnapps
1 stick of butter
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Drain the yams, pineapple and peaches, reserving the syrups.  Reduce the syrups over medium-high heat until just 2/3 of a cup remains. After the syrups have reduced by half, add the apricot brandy and continue until you have the 2/3 cup.  Stir in the cinnamon, ginger, and salt. Take off the heat, add the butter and set aside so that the butter melts and the mixture cools.


In a large mixing bowl, beat the yams until they are completely broken down. Add the 2 egg yolks and beat until smooth.  Fold in the pineapple and the room temperature syrup-butter mixture. Taste and reseason if desired.

Beat the egg whites until stiff peaks can be formed. Gently fold the egg whites into the yams. Spoon 2/3 of the mixture into a 2 quart glass soufflé dish.


Layer in all of the peaches, then add the remaining yam mixture.


Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 1 hour.







Thursday, November 17, 2016

Perspective

Yes, I'm sore from Tuesday's spectacularly graceless slip and fall.  Even worse, fibromyalgia, that miserable m*therf*cker, has joined forces with the Donald "Orange You Glad You Voted For Me" Trump to send every nerve ending in my body into High Alert. I am in extraordinary pain, both physical and emotional, to the point that I cannot get out of bed. I missed breakfast and I'm on my way to missing lunch. My pets have all realized that I am not going to make it downstairs and with the exception of Chelsea, who is still glued to my side as usual, have all returned to keep me company in my second-story Fortress of Solitude.

This post is going to be short, I'm afraid; I'm having trouble staying awake even though I have yet to take so much as a single Advil, much less a muscle relaxer. As I am typing this, I keep drifting off to sleep and the iPad keeps slipping off my lap. Let's face it, I'm one hot mess.

But before you send me your much-appreciated love and prayers, I'm going to ask you to please redirect all that positive energy to someone who needs it even more than I do.

I have a good and dear friend, from my earliest days as an attorney here in Osceola County, who has been battling cancer for too many years. Her strength is amazing, in fact it is inspiring. Unfortunately this week she had a bad scan and this morning got the terrible news that the cancer had spread again. My heart hurts for her and for her family, especially her children. That's all I'm going to say, out of respect for their privacy.

I would be honored if you would send those prayers that you intended for me over in her direction. You may already be praying for her, but even if you don't know her name, please pray for Cindy's friend to beat her cancer yet again.  I am absolutely certain that God will sort things out and know who you are praying for. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ❤️


Some more photos of the Asian-inspired sliders, under construction and as completed:








Perspective

Yes, I'm sore from Tuesday's spectacularly graceless slip and fall.  Even worse, fibromyalgia, that miserable m*therf*cker, has joined forces with the Donald "Orange You Glad You Voted For Me" Trump to send every nerve ending in my body into High Alert. I am in extraordinary pain, both physical and emotional, to the point that I cannot get out of bed. I missed breakfast and I'm on my way to missing lunch. My pets have all realized that I am not going to make it downstairs and with the exception of Chelsea, who is still glued to my side as usual, have all returned to keep me company in my second-story Fortress of Solitude.

This post is going to be short, I'm afraid; I'm having trouble staying awake even though I have yet to take so much as a single Advil, much less a muscle relaxer. As I am typing this, I keep drifting off to sleep and the iPad keeps slipping off my lap. Let's face it, I'm one hot mess.

But before you send me your much-appreciated love and prayers, I'm going to ask you to please redirect all that positive energy to someone who needs it even more than I do.

I have a good and dear friend, from my earliest days as an attorney here in Osceola County, who has been battling cancer for too many years. Her strength is amazing, in fact it is inspiring. Unfortunately this week she had a bad scan and this morning got the terrible news that the cancer had spread again. My heart hurts for her and for her family, especially her children. That's all I'm going to say, out of respect for their privacy.

I would be honored if you would send those prayers that you intended for me over in her direction. You may already be praying for her, but even if you don't know her name, please pray for Cindy's friend to beat her cancer yet again.  I am absolutely certain that God will sort things out and know who you are praying for. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ❤️


Some more photos of the Asian-inspired sliders, under construction and as completed:








Perspective

Yes, I'm sore from Tuesday's spectacularly graceless slip and fall.  Even worse, fibromyalgia, that miserable m*therf*cker, has joined forces with the Donald "Orange You Glad You Voted For Me" Trump to send every nerve ending in my body into High Alert. I am in extraordinary pain, both physical and emotional, to the point that I cannot get out of bed. I missed breakfast and I'm on my way to missing lunch. My pets have all realized that I am not going to make it downstairs and with the exception of Chelsea, who rarely leaves my side, have all returned to keep me company in my second-story Fortress of Solitude.

This post is going to be short, I'm afraid; I'm having trouble staying awake even though I have yet to take so much as a single Advil, much less a muscle relaxer. As I am typing this, I keep drifting off to sleep and the iPad keeps slipping off my lap. Let's face it, I'm one hot mess.

But before you send me your much-appreciated love and prayers, I'm going to ask you to please redirect all that positive energy to someone who needs it even more than I do.

I have a good and dear friend, from my earliest days as an attorney here in Osceola County, who has been battling cancer for too many years. Her strength is amazing, in fact it is inspiring. Unfortunately this week she had a bad scan and this morning got the terrible news that the cancer had spread again. My heart hurts for her and for her family, especially her children. That's all I'm going to say, out of respect for their privacy.

I would be honored if you would send those prayers that you intended for me over in her direction. You may already be praying for her, but even if you don't know her name, please pray for Cindy's friend to beat her cancer yet again.  I am absolutely certain that God will sort things out and know who you are praying for. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ❤️


Some more photos of the Asian-inspired sliders, under construction and as completed:








Tuesday, November 15, 2016

The Bigger They Are - Asian-Inspired Teriyaki Chicken and Kimchee Sliders

Okay, let's get to the good stuff first:

Asian-Inspired Teriyaki Chicken and Kimchee Sliders

Makes 12 slider-sized sandwiches

1/2 to 2/3 of package frozen cooked, cubed chicken (I found Tyson brand at Walmart)
1 bottle Panda Express Mandarin Teriyaki Sauce
Sesame oil, optional
Clover honey, optional
Red pepper flakes, optional
1 small onion, halved lengthwise and sliced fairly thin
1 package Pepperidge Farm slider rolls left attached, sliced through the middle
8 leaves mild kimchee cabbage, drained, sliced crosswise into strips. Pat dry before assembling sliders.
Freeze dried or fresh chives, to taste (optional)
6 slices Havarti cheese, cut in half
2-3 tablespoons butter, melted
Sesame seeds, light and/or dark

Combine the frozen chicken, onions, and about half of the bottle of Mandarin Teriyaki sauce in a crockpot. Taste the teriyaki sauce and if you like add a small amount of the sesame oil and/or the honey. Also optional, add some of the pepper flakes. Cover and cook on High for 1 1/2 to two hours stirring a few times during the cooking.  When done, set aside to cool at room temperature.

Set the bottom layer of the rolls in a rectangular baking dish. Remove the chicken and onions from the crock pot with a slotted spoon, allowing excess sauce to drip off. Distribute evenly on each roll bottom, then top the chicken with the kimchee. Sprinkle on the chives and place the half slices of cheese over each slider. Lightly brush some of the remaining teriyaki sauce on the underside of the roll tops, and place the tops over the cheese. Press down gently.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Brush the tops and visible sides of the rolls with the butter. Sprinkle on the sesame seed. Bake for 20-25 minutes. Let cool for 10 - 15 minutes before cutting and serving.

I took several photos but cannot figure out how to find them and store them so they can be inserted onto the page. Google forced their new photo service on me, and it is nothing like the easy, breezy Picasa.  For now, this is all I got:


Wait, wait, a few more just showed up:


Tuesday is not the busiest day of my usual week, and like Monday, I rarely stir from the house. Except on Tuesday evening I have tai chi class, which means that during the day I need to maintain some semblance of normality. So this morning, instead of pulling myself together physically and mentally, I took a fall in the laundry room, landing so hard that Robert ran upstairs to see what had happened. Miraculously I did not break or even sprain anything (at least nothing that I am aware of) although I managed to simultaneously hit my right knee, hip, and shoulder against the ceramic tile floor.

Wherever my guardian angel is hanging out, thank you thank you very much.  However, what I am concerned about, now that several hours have passed, is that my clumsy inadvertent attempt at breakdancing has set off a fibromyalgia flare. Since I was already dealing with some back and right leg pain, it becomes a matter of degree, i.e. I hurt a lot more than I did before the fall.  Most excitement I've had since Election Day night.

Speaking of elections, the President-elect is attempting to assemble his Cabinet and close advisers team, relying on many of the same Washington insiders and big-money banking types he scorned during his campaign. Whenever I read news relating to the Presidential transition of power, I experience a combination of anxiety and indigestion. For one thing, I can't pretend that on December 19th, the Electoral College is going to flip the victory to Hillary Clinton because she garnered far more of the popular vote than Trump, and that means this is really happening. The final curtain is coming down on the Barack and Uncle Joe Show, Hillary and Bill are heading back to Chappaqua, and Trump is going to name Steve Bannon from Breitbart News as his Chief of Staff. If that doesn't scare you, you must not be a Jew or a person of color or Latino, or a female (especially of childbearing age), or a Muslim, and you get the idea.


As we get inexorably closer to January 20th, I can't help but feel that I am watching a terrible, horrible, no-good play, and even though I paid dearly for the tickets I can't just stand up and leave the theatre.

Hope you like the sliders. I've been playing around with different combinations of the main components. So far the best have been my pastrami reuben sliders and my muffuletta sliders. I think I also made meatball sliders.

Monday, November 14, 2016

Be Careful What You Wish For (You May Get It)

It's been 4 months since I paid any attention to the blog, and if you were a regular reader, I apologize for the absence. I actually drafted a post back in September, but for reasons I can't readily recall, failed to finish and publish. You can read it at the end of today's blog entry.

It is no coincidence that I am back the week after Election Day.  For a year and a half I have been captivated by the Presidential campaigns, but never more so than since the conclusion of the party conventions. At which point I bypassed captivation and headed straight to reasonable obsession.

If you happen to be a Facebook friend, then you already know that, as much as possible, I campaigned vigorously for Hillary Clinton, at least as much as I could being homebound quite a bit.  As you know, it was a brutal campaign and I would be lying if I told you I wasn't bitterly disappointed. I'm still not up to reliving the horror, and I certainly don't want any part of the post-mortem, but I will say that I am furious with large swathes of the American adult population, half of which could not be bothered to vote, and with the ones that did vote for Donald Trump. Okay, I'll take your word for it that you are not a racist, misogynist, litigious, anti-Semitic, xenophobic, personality disordered sexual predator. What I'm getting stuck on is that you are willing to tolerate someone with all of those negative attributes.

So you tell me, "we wanted change! We wanted an outsider not part of the Washington establishment!" To which I reply, are you effing kidding me? Do you remember the last time this country elected a President who would provide a change from The Old Guard? Someone who was above the scandals, political schemes, and the in-fighting? Someone who wasn't beholden to lobbyists or special interest groups? Well, do you?

For those of you who were born after 1970, let me cut to the chase: did you ever hear of Jimmy Carter? Yes indeed, that nice old man who builds homes - literally - with Habitat for Humanity? A sincere man of God, a good man with a good heart, a man who had executive experience as the Governor of the State of Georgia, yet still from outside the Beltway? Worst President in my lifetime? Fortunately he was a One Term Wonder, but still there were those four cringeworthy years during which people began to think that Gerald Ford's pardon of Richard Nixon wasn't so terrible after all.

Things are going to change, alright. Starting with a President-elect who doesn't really want to live in the White House.

And that's all I'm going to say about that, for now.

The fibromyalgia continues to kick my butt from here to wherever. I tire very easily but still cannot sleep. What can I say, it's a life. My world is much smaller now, and there are more than a few bucket list items I will never be able to fulfill, but it could be a lot worse. I can still cook (just not as often), I can read, and I can knit. Oh, and I can see without my glasses! After so many years, when I wake up in the morning the world around me is no longer one big, fuzzy blur. Look Ma, no cataracts!



From September:
I cooked yesterday. Mussels in Wine Sauce, an old faithful recipe that never feels to please my jaded palate. Never mind that I used to use mussels for fish bait back in the old days at Camp Anawana; that was several lifetimes ago, and it is now common culinary knowledge that mussels rock. Better than clams, if you ask me.

The only problem with cooking is that I have to stand up to do it, and there is invariably a price to pay for such physical extravagance. My plan to spend time downstairs watching TV with my husband flew out the window and it was all I could do to creep upstairs, swallow a muscle relaxer, and collapse onto the bed. Sometimes it's a hard-knock life. I woke up with a nearly blinding headache, took some Advil, and re-collapsed (if there is such a word) on the bed. Boom! There went my Saturday.

Speaking of boom, several bombs showed up yesterday, two in Manhattan and one in nearby New Jersey. A number of people were hurt, and no one has stepped up to claim responsibility. New York City Mayor Bill DeBlasio tells us that the bomb was "an intentional act" (no kidding) but "not related to terrorism." Right.

I've been trying to figure out how the new Google photo app, which replaced Picasa, can work for me and my blog, and so far doing a crap job of it. I am reduced to hitting buttons displayed on the screen and hoping for the best.


So here is one of the lace squares I wanted to post yesterday. The pattern is called "Spanish Windows", and I found it in one of Barbara G. Walker's Knitting Pattern Treasuries.

 

And here is my rendition of "Frost Flowers", also from Barbara G. Walker. I am particularly pleased with how this one turned out, although it is nowhere near perfect. Knitting perfect lace is beyond my abilities, but I still enjoy trying. I'm not sure how these photos finally showed up in Google, and I'm still having to access my pictures by stopping first at Picasa, but here they are, at least until Google changes something else causing me yet another mini micro meltdown.

I am trying desperately not to start writing about politics, and more specifically, about the upcoming election.

Friday, September 16, 2016

All You Need Is Love

Where have I been the past two months? Well, that's a good question, upon which I found myself reflecting just today. Life-changing stuff has been going on, interspersed with a good dose of knitting.

Top of the list has been cataract surgery. After 6 months of dreading to drive because my vision could no longer be corrected by any eyeglass prescription known to man, I can see again. Even at night, behind the wheel of my car. Most astonishing of all is that I no longer need any sort of glasses at all, except for "close" stuff like reading, knitting, and typing this blog, a total reversal of how I've been seeing the world since I was eight years old. Being inexorably nearsighted for well over half a century, I had gotten into the habit of reading without my glasses. Just bring the written word up close, like to the end of my nose, and I was happy. Threading needles, putting on eyeliner, clipping my cuticles, even some knitting, all performed with a precision borne of my misshapen ocular lenses. Needless to say, I am having to relearn how to see. I still haven't gotten the eyeliner down pat, but as the old saying goes, that should be the least of my problems. This is nothing short of a miracle.

Nudging my newly-reclaimed eyesight for first place is the favorable conclusion of my disability claim. After all the aggravation, fear, and anger, my hearing before the administrative judge went well, due in no small part to the guidance of the disability firm representative, and I was notified that my appeal had been granted (despite the best efforts of my primary doctors to screw me to a wall). Now I just have to wait for Social Security to process the court's order and will hopefully begin to see  real money being direct deposited to our account.

Fibromyalgia continues to create limitations, but I am learning to accept them and adapt daily life. If I manage to get One Thing Done during the day, I am satisfied. More than that is going to send me to back to bed, but that is becoming part of the rhythm of life. When I was in my thirties I could work two jobs and go to school; in my sixties, keeping company with fibromyalgia, I can sometimes get down the steps, clean up after my pets, and make the bed. I'm still a productive member of society; it's all just a matter of perspective.

I cook more infrequently now, relying on old favorites, and allow myself the luxury of picking up Publix fried chicken or Chinese food, or some other sort of take-out to supplement my family's diet. I understand that is what "normal" people do, when they are not trying to prove they are the world's greatest home cook. I am learning to stop trying to prove anything to anybody, so I am somewhat more relaxed about the contents of my refrigerator and the messy state of my household. I am finally beginning to accept that I am an inveterate clutterer, and no longer worry about changing my ways. Finally at 63, I am free of that particular form of guilt and it feels good.

But I do have one guilty pleasure (well, maybe two - I'm still eating too much chocolate), and that is my almost total immersion in this crazy political season. I am glued to the News app on my iPhone/iPad, and I share too many articles on Facebook.  But you probably already know this. My despair over the direction of this election is palpable; better not to get into it right now.

So it is fair to say that the only fly in this nominally positive ointment is Donald Trump. And also, another fly or maybe just a little flea, would be those annoying voices in my head. I'm not all that concerned, as I can't hear most of what they are saying, and more importantly, no one is telling me to engage in any dangerous, cruel, or illegal acts. Their presence is, however, causing my therapist to repeatedly express his deep concern which means eventually I am going to have to follow his advice and consult with a medical-type person.  Until then, I'm going to leave them in peace, living as they do in my attic (literally and figuratively speaking).

And for your viewing pleasure - Lace!

Puppies!

One Dark Lord of the Sith!

Oops. Gotta figure out how this Google photo album thing, which replaced Picasa, works. Damn, spit, and dirty socks. Till next time.


Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Fuggedaboutit

I had it with that frakking Lattice Lace pattern. Frogged it for the last time and decided the problem was the pattern, not me. I've been knitting for well over 50 years, and I've done a lot of lace knitting without problems. Gorgeous stuff, shawls and scarves and even socks, all complicated lace.  If I can't knit this without constant errors, then THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE PATTERN. I just want to make that perfectly clear.

I still love the yarn, which is a soft acrylic (yes, acrylic, just get over yourself) in a lovely shade of yellow, not too intense, not washed out, just perfect.  And I found just the pattern to show it off.


Now why was I so obsessed with getting the Lattice Lace pattern to work when I had this pretty number, Wavy Eyelet Rib pattern, just waiting in the wings? Because, as my mother always told me, I'm a stubborn brat.  Assuming one can still be a brat at an advanced age.

I've been sick to my stomach a good part of this week and have come to the conclusion that it was caused by politics. And maybe the milk I put into my iced coffee, since I've become lactose intolerant these past few years. First, I am mad at Hillary. Yes, me. I am the quintessential Clintonista, Bill AND Hill, and I've been waiting for her to become President for 8 years. She's got the tools, she's got the talent. Brilliant, committed to her causes (most, not all which I support), hard-working, and those pant suits! Seriously, I adore her and am grateful to her for the role she has played for women's rights.  But I am truly pissed because I know that sometime she lies, and pushes the envelope, and plays fast and loose with the rules, and there is no freaking reason for her to do that. Yes, all politicians lie and play games with the truth, but in my opinion she is so incredibly suited for the Presidency that she just doesn't have to do that sh*t.  Hillary, can you hear me? Don't give anyone an excuse to vote for That Horrid Man.

Speaking of That Horrid Man - yes, I realize that the contents of the hacked DNC emails are important and that Debbie Wasserman Schultz should probably be keel hauled for what she did, BUT the provenance of those emails is also important. Are the Russians hacking into our government agencies? Of course they are, and shame on you if you think otherwise. Is Donald Trump somehow involved in obtaining those emails or otherwise having them directed to that Wikileaks dude, to be released at precisely the wrong moment? Could be, and again, if you think it's totally outside the realm of possibility, shame on you. Only time and yet another FBI investigation will tell.

Now, as to DJT - this is a person who is mentally and emotionally incapable of discharging the duties of President of the United States, or for that matter, any elective office.  He has no focus, he has no filter, and he has no self-control. He is a scammer, a carnival barker, a liar and a cheat from way back. He isn't anywhere as intelligent as he boasts, and he surrounds himself with sycophants instead of strong, wise, experienced advisors. He knows virtually nothing of foreign policy, does not know how to speak with foreign dignitaries, and never considers the consequences of his actions. In sum total, he is a bigoted, undignified bully who can't keep his twisted promises to the electorate who support him.  And that's my opinion.

I've just about used up all my spoons for today and still need a few for tai chi class, so that's it for typing - shoulders and back are hurting. Next post I'll work on typing up a recipe or two.


To Be Continued ...

#nevertrump #dumptrump
#imwithher #feelthepantsuit

Monday, July 25, 2016

Sometimes It Just Turns Out That Way

Here it is Monday, typical sucky Monday - I had a nice blog post all written and ready to go, and well, the Internet ate it. Gone forever. It included a few paragraphs I had written over a week ago, and I still have those, so here you are:

On a more personal note, I had to frog 19 rows of knitting last night, as I find it virtually impossible to repair mistakes in a pattern that includes yarn overs and decreases on both sides. I remained calm although a part of me wanted to start whacking at the offending rows with a large pair of sharp scissors. I also threw together a pasta salad. There's no recipe, because pasta salad is anything you want it to be and we want it to be full of cheese, meat, marinated things and fresh veggies. I happened to have perline pasta in the fridge from a recent trip to Trader Joe's, and the rest was serendipity. All I knew is that I had to move fast, before my back gave out. Just squeaked through, and I even tried to keep Rob company while watching Andrew Zimmern rave about eating rotted nasty bits, but I just could not get comfortable and the pain was making me cranky. Is still making me cranky, I might add.

Cory was quite complimentary about the pasta salad. That perline pasta is little "purses" stuffed with prosciutto, what could be bad?

Speaking of bad, the pain has become unbearable and the itching is worse than the pain. For the first time in a long time I am needing to cry. As the day became night, and Sunday morphed into Monday, I slept not at all, waking at 1 AM, tossing, turning, reading, taking Advil PM, all to no avail. I got up at 4 AM and started to cook the chicken I'd bought on Saturday. There was no pleasure in the process, just a grim determination to feed my family.

There are a few recipes I developed and will type up for the blog in the fullness of time.

Back to the present - I checked my stats this morning and without a doubt, the Russians have developed an unhealthy interest in this blog. Nine hundred and sixty four visits compared to sixty from the US. I can't say there's hacking, since this is a public blog and there's no reason to hack, but I don't know what to think. Except that my mood is usually dark with ribbons of paranoia (I am descended from Russians, after all) and these crazy-ass Russian forays are pissing me off.

The fibromyalgia has damn near killed me this week. Never mind the gory details, just take my word for it.  In the middle of all that, I had my hearing on the disability appeal and a 4 hour pre-op session for my upcoming cataract surgery. Between the separate surgeries and post-op exams, the entire month of August is going to be one big blur to me (did I really type that?) so I skipped over into September and booked a cruise. Carnival out of Canaveral, my favorite panacea. At the risk of committing another bad pun, it gives me something to look forward to.

Finally, still knitting - my latest swatch:


It's dark, like my mood.  Not sure what I'll use it for, but it's in my knitting squares queue. And here is the yarn-based bane of my existence, this beautiful lace pattern that I have swatched and tested and modified and tested again. So I started the square, knitting ever-so-carefully in total silence, no distractions, and can you believe there's an error in here but I am freaking leaving it. Probably no one will see it except for me, and if someone does manage to point it out I'll stick my nose in the air and proclaim, "that's what makes it unique!"


The Democratic National Convention starts today; I haven't decided if I am going to watch it or stick to reruns of "Night Court".

My hope is that you have a much better day than Debbie Wasserman-Schultz.

Friday, July 15, 2016

#Pray For The Human Race - Desperation Franks, Bacon and Beans

Warning: Childish name-calling below:

If I was smart - and I'm not, not really - I would have accomplished yesterday's "no news" day by shoving my iPad and iPhone into a closed drawer. Apparently it wasn't enough to steer clear of Facebook and all my usual news outlets while I used the devices to display my knitting patterns. Instead I got bombarded, as did we all, with pop-up news alerts regarding the Tangerine Puffgut's choice of VP candidate (thankfully not Newt Gingivitis), and far more earth shattering, the terrorist attack in France.  Who needs military grade automatic weapons when you can drive a tractor-trailer into a huge crowd of people gathered to celebrate a national holiday?

For once, the old reliable 23rd Psalm is not giving me the comfort I seek: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil." I do fear evil; the days when we could keep war from American soil are long over. The terrorists attacked the city of my birth in 2001 and they attacked my adopted home city just one month ago. The whole world has gone to hell; all the wrong people have or are close to having nuclear capability. When I'm not hyperventilating from the very real threat that some radicalized crazy is going to come charging past my house on his way to the courthouse, shooting, bombing, exploding and taking the whole street with him, I am paralyzed at the thought of what additional damage could be done to this country and the world if the wrong person lands in the White House. It doesn't help that both Houses of Congress are paralyzed as well, except when it comes to calling for yet another useless investigation of Hillary Clinton.    

(It also doesn't help when the presumptive Republican nominee says that My Very Favorite Supreme Court Justice is feeble-minded and should resign. That makes me angry, and you wouldn't like me when I'm angry. Perhaps I need to check the status of that lawsuit against DJT filed by a woman who claims he raped her when she was 14, or perhaps wonder out loud why he is so quick to defend his misogynist pal Roger Ailes, or remind everyone that a vote for The Donald is a vote for the first First Lady to pose for nude pictures.)

Knitting for Serenity:

Still testing patterns, yarns, and gauge. While I was trying to avoid the news yesterday, I created a swatch using a pattern I have been wanting to try for a while with a yarn I am crazy about. The results were not what I was expecting, so I tried another yarn colorway that I like quite a bit, although not crazy about it. I blocked the swatch and sought my husband's opinion. Blue Moon won out over Icy Pond.


Knitting For Sanity:

Following up on a previous test swatch, I am slowly turning Grey Heather into something soft, square, and pleasing to the eye. This kind of knitting, accompanied by a handful of prescription medication and some tai chi, can, in fact, bring a modicum of long-sought sanity to my otherwise effed-up world.


Yes, This Is Still A Cooking Blog:

Provisions in Casa Rothfeld are running low, and I had to cook something. Something, anything - anything, that is, not involving a trip to the supermarket, as there was no way I was up to that. So I dove into my freezer and fridge and pantry and came up with the ingredients for some heretofore unimagined version of franks and beans. I had barely gotten into the cooking when I realized this was a terrible mistake; my back, hips, and legs set up an angry protest. I cried through a good part of this project, having nothing to do with the onions I was chopping. I sat down a lot, and mourned for the days I could whip up a feast for forty on a work night. These days I'm lucky if I can feed my family. It took me three freaking hours to prepare all of the ingredients for the crockpot. Fuck fibromyalgia and the horse it rode in on.

Desperation Franks, Bacon and Beans

2 tablespoons garlic-infused olive oil
1 pound bacon, cut crosswise into pieces
3 large onions (or all the leftover onions you can gather, which in my case was a nice large Vidalia, 3 sad-looking shallots, and a half-dozen nice big scallions)
1/3 cup garlic cloves
2 bell peppers, or the equivalent, any combination of colors
2 - 12 oz. packages Hebrew National Beef Franks, cut up
3 - 15.5 oz. cans small red beans, rinsed and drained
1 - 24 oz. can Hunt's Manwich Original Sloppy Joe Sauce
1/2 cup water
2 teaspoons Crystal Hot Sauce
1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire Sauce
1/3 cup bourbon


On medium-high, heat the oil in a large deep skillet.  Add the bacon, and cook just until lightly brown. Remove with a slotted spoon to a dish lined with paper towels. When the pan is cool, pour off all but 3 tablespoons of the fat. Chop up all the vegetables. Reheat the fat to medium-high and add the vegetables. Season with kosher salt and black pepper. Cook until crisp tender. Remove from the pan and set aside. Add the cut up franks to the pan and cook until some brown char appears. Do not overcook the franks.


Line a 6 quart oval crockpot with a slow cooker bag or spray with Pam. Add the drained beans, vegetables, bacon, and franks. Combine the Sloppy Joe sauce with the water, hot sauce, Worcestershire, and bourbon, and pour over the contents of the crockpot.


Cover and cook on High for 1 hour. Stir and taste the sauce. Adjust the seasonings and bourbon if needed. At the 1 hour mark, I added salt, pepper, and some granulated garlic.  I also added 2 packed tablespoons of dark brown sugar and 2 tablespoons of the bourbon. Cover and cook for 2 more hours.


Very, very good.


Really delicious. Definitely worth the tears, the 3 hours, the hurting hips. I am loving it. Now excuse me while I limp back to bed.

Thursday, July 14, 2016

The Project No News Today Affair

I think I'm going to stay away from the news today. No New York Times, no Daily News, no Time magazine, and definitely no FOX. Nor CNN, Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, Bloomberg, PBS, ABC, BBC, Orlando Sentinel, or even the Huffington Post. (If you finish this post with a raging case of Billy Joel earworm, my work here is done.) I should probably steer clear of Facebook as well, in fact it is at the top of today's avoidance list. Besides the worldwide violence, racism, anti-semitism, and the rampant stupidity of both Houses of Congress, two of my favorite ladies - HRC and The Notorious RBG - are suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, having each shot themselves in their respective foot. Being retired, I have entirely too much time to follow too many news outlets, and being disabled I run the risk of dwelling on all of the bad news to the point of triggering depression and anxiety attacks.

So I'm going to step back, Jack, and engage in less stressful activities like making some mashed potatoes or watching old episodes of "The Man from U.N.C.L.E."


Children of the Sixties, didn't we have the best shows to watch? And Colonel Klink, Mr. Spock, Captain Kirk and Dr. Ducky Mallard, aka Illya Kuryakin, all in the same episode? Fab! Cool! Freaking out!


There's knitting, of course. I've been testing some new lace patterns, which may not mean much to you but is my idea of engaging in positive activity.


Speaking of activity, I had thought of spending a few spoons and taking a brief morning walk, but a reliable source (Siri) tells me it is already 82 degrees at 9 AM, and the humidity is 79%. With those numbers I wouldn't make it past the courthouse which is on the next block, and given my fibromyalgically-induced intolerance to temperature, I'd probably keel over and die at the foot of the courthouse steps, which would be tragically poetic but hardly in my best interest.

What all of this means of course is another day spent holed up in my room, lights low, AC and stand fan on full power, listening to snoring, purring, paw-gnawing pets, and NO NEWS.

Donald who?

Monday, July 11, 2016

This Is The Way The World Ends - Chicken, Corn and Black Bean Salad with Creamy Chipotle Lime Dressing

This world, Planet Earth, is hurting. We the People, or at least some of us, have made an absolute mess of things. Social and political structure is crashing down around us. "Financial stability" is an oxymoron.  Pervasive hatred is the new normal.

And the war rolls on. Ordinary people go to a club, or ride a bus, or walk down familiar streets and then they die, by violence. We are getting a taste of what it feels like to live in Israel, and it feels terrible.

I am reminded, rather unpleasantly, of the Fall of the Roman Empire. There is not a shred of my usual flippancy in that statement; I am as serious as a heart attack. Our upcoming election will solve nothing because our choices are unbearable, and the branches of government have completely lost the ability to cooperate with each other.  Our closest ally is having a huge public breakdown. Only one person wants to run for Prime Minister of Great Britain, and under the circumstances she can take a leisurely stroll to 10 Downing Street and sit right down at David Cameron's old desk.

The entire world is in an uproar. We are living in terrible, dangerous times.

After the recent daily terrorist attacks and the shocking violence between the African-American community and law enforcement, I have come to the deeply disturbing conclusion that Dr. Martin Luther King lived and died in vain. Think about that for a while.

We are all on edge, feeling the stress. In my case, all the fear and negativity impact my old friend fibro and I feel bad, really bad. So sick it is hard to leave the house. Actually hard to leave my room. None of my medications are helping me, and I am frustrated to the point of tears. And that's all I'm going to say about that.


Even knitting has become a painful, exhausting exercise


(While I'm typing this, my iPad is telling me that there was a shooting at a Michigan courthouse and that at least 4 people have been killed.)

During one of my successful forays in the kitchen, I found a use for some leftovers that were tugging on my conscience. I hate to waste food. This dish was very easy to throw together, leaving me plenty of time to trudge upstairs and pass out yet again. I call it Chicken, Corn and Black Bean Salad.  Catchy, eh?
  
Chicken, Corn and Black Bean Salad

1 - 14.75 oz. can black beans, rinsed, drained
1 - 2 oz. jar diced pimentos, drained
2 ears corn, cooked, kernels removed
1 generous cup chopped cooked chicken
1 large scallion (green onion), thinly sliced. Use entire scallion.
1/4 cup finely chopped green bell pepper

Combine all of the ingredients and serve with Creamy Chipotle Lime Dressing. You can mix about  half the dressing with the salad ahead of time, or have each person add as much or as little as they want. Next time I would like to serve this on a bed of lettuce topped with corn chips, and surrounded with tomatoes and avocado slices. But that's the fancy, this is the plain and it is pretty darn delicious.


Creamy Chipotle Lime Dressing

3/4 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup key lime juice (Nellie and Joe's)
1/4 cup chipotle sauce (or more, to taste)
2 garlic cloves, crushed through a garlic press
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon cumin
Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste
Dash of granulated garlic

Whisk together all of the ingredients, then l place in the refrigerator for an hour before using.


Sunday, June 26, 2016

A Snark-Free Sunday - Asian-Cajun (Con)Fusion Stuffed Pork Chops


I've been trying for close to an hour, but I can't get out of bed. Does this suck or what? I have cooking to do! The days when my family had a choice between 6 different gourmet entrees is long gone, but they still gotta eat, so once a week, having gathered every extra spoon I could, I try to make one nice dinner with leftovers. This is the day.

So, I finally managed to slide down the stairs without dropping the little girl dog I was clutching in one arm. I did not manage to swallow my medication before doing so, and my landing was all wibbly-wobbly. I am over sensitive to light and sound, and I do not trust my hands to chop so much as a shallot. Despite the fact that Rob emptied the dishwasher and Cory refilled it, the sight of a clean sink did not cheer me up as much as usual.  I hurt all over, my brain is a bit fuzzy, my arms are itching like I have chicken pox, and I am cranky. Really down-in-the-dumps, growly, frowning cranky.

The cooking was going to have to be ridiculously simple or it wasn't going to happen. Short of emptying cans into the crockpot, this is one of the simplest recipes I could think of given the ingredients at hand. I based it on an old Betty Crocker recipe which I cross-pollinated with my mother's even older recipe for stuffed pork chops, and after throwing everything together in some semblance of order, spun my prayer wheel and hoped for the best. Here you go:

Asian-Cajun Stuffed Pork Chops

Stuffing :
2 1/2-3 cups crumbled corn muffins
1 cup seasoned dry stuffing mix
1 - 14.75 oz. can cream style sweet corn
1 cup frozen gumbo mix vegetables (okra, corn, celery, onions, sweet red peppers) rinsed under hot water and well-drained (measure after draining)
Salt, pepper, smoked paprika, granulated garlic
Parsley flakes, ground sage, crushed rosemary, thyme leaves
1 extra large egg, lightly beaten

5 lbs. thinly-sliced boneless pork chops (about 18 chops)
Garlic pepper, sweet paprika
1 - 20.75 oz. bottle Panda Express Orange Sauce

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine stuffing ingredients and set aside.  Lay out half of the chops in 2 aluminum baking dishes which have been sprayed lightly with the no-stick stuff. Divide the stuffing evenly onto the chops. Cover the stuffing with the remaining chops. Season the tops with the garlic pepper and sweet paprika. Cover and bake for 1 1/4 hours.


Remove from oven, uncover and carefully pour off the liquid in each pan. Next, pour the orange sauce evenly over the top of each chop and return to the oven, uncovered, for an additional 30 minutes, basting once or twice.

And that's it. That easy, that delicious. And most importantly, my boys won't starve.


My arms are too tired to knit which also sucks as I am crazy about the particular colorway I am using. The feel of this yarn - an acrylic! - is so very pleasant against my hands (while the rest of me screams when touched) and the whole process is so restful. Assuming, of course, that I can support the weight of two small bamboo knitting needles and an ounce or two of yarn, which at the moment I am not. Crap. If I don't knit, I read the news and when I read the news I get emotional and when I get emotional I get snarky, especially concerning the candidate known as "Big Orange, Tiny Digits."

And that's enough of that.

Friday, June 24, 2016

Doctors Full of Snit - Old-Fashioned Pound Cake


Sitting here resting my bones ...

Actually, I'm drifting through some light morning chores trying to absorb the news. Brexit and the unsuccessful Democratic sit-in are at the top of the list. The pain we are all still feeling in Orlando. The father who would not claim his son's body because he disapproved of his homosexuality. The recent Supreme Court decisions. Bernie Sanders. The stock market, reeling from Brexit. The very real problem of accelerated climate change; floods, fires, fiercely wild animals moving into residential areas. Falluja. Gun control or its lack thereof. The Magic trading my favorite Victor Oladipo for Oklahoma City's Sir Chewbacca. Those North Korean missiles. I'm all over the place.

(Just in case you were wondering, Otis Redding is not singing in my head; instead, my 2-day earworm is the Aerosmith-Run DMC version of "Walk This Way" which is really a nasty little song with dirty lyrics that must now make Joseph Simmons blush. They make me blush - I seriously need a new earworm.)

Today is the Yahrzeit, the anniversary of my father's passing. It was another Friday, 33 years ago, that he lost his 16-month battle with cancer. I have missed him every day since then, but I have good memories and in the end, that's the most one can wish for.

My unpleasant doctor experiences continue, involving my primary care physician and my psychiatrist. I have been scolded (more like verbally abused) for going to a specialist (the rheumatologist!), accused of pursuing disability because I "don't want to go to work anymore", scolded for recounting my fibromyalgia symptoms after she asked me how I was feeling, because I "have it so much better than people who have cancer", told that "there is nothing else I can do to help you" and just now received a phone call from my PCP's office manager relaying a message from the doctor (in response to my request for two non-narcotic prescription renewals for medication he has been prescribing me for at least 5 years) that was so inappropriate that she was embarrassed to read it to me. This is the same doctor who finally admitted I was permanently disabled from the practice of law, and offered to write something to that effect but never did so. Which all just goes to show that doctors are distressingly human and as supremely capable as the rest of us to act like petty little shits. Thank goodness my therapist still gets it.

Considering that my cooking days have been dramatically reduced, I am pleased to be able to share a recipe with you. It is for an old-fashioned pound cake and the results amazed me. I baked it with my paralegal friend Brenda in mind as a pound cake-craving recipient, and that also gave me an excuse to head to the office, which is still an uncomfortable experience for me, to visit with my friends and also finally deliver the bracelet I'd made for my supervisor Raquel. A heartfelt thank you for all of her help, her support, and her kindness.




The pound cake recipe is from James Villas' book From My Mother's Southern Kitchen, but the recipe is hardly an original, nor would I want it to be. A pound each of flour, butter, sugar, and eggs - now that's a pound cake! It is an easy recipe, but not simple to make. I used a hand held electric mixer, but next time I'm going to ask one of my boys to lift out the stand mixer for me to use. Take your time beating in the ingredients and you will be well-rewarded.

Old-Fashioned Pound Cake

1 pound (4 sticks) butter, softened at room temperature
1 pound (2 cups) sugar
9 large eggs
1 pound (4 cups) all-purpose flour
Dash of salt
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
Juice of 1 lemon (about 2 tablespoons)

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Grease and flour a 10-inch tube pan.

In a large bowl, cream the butter with an electric mixer, then gradually add the sugar, continuing to beat until well creamed and smooth. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually add the flour and salt, beating constantly.  Add the vanilla and lemon juice and continue beating until well blended.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, and from a rather short distance, drop on the counter once or twice to distribute the batter evenly.Bake until a wooden skewer inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean, about 1 1/4 hours. Remove the cake from the pan and allow to cool on a rack. If you can bear to wait, wrap the cooled cake in plastic and let it sit on the counter overnight.




Still knitting ...