Happy Caturday!

If I were you, I would...

Eat some breakfast:

Watch a baseball game:

Take a nap:

Do a little shopping:

Maybe some laundry:

Take a nap:

A little yoga:

... And a couple more naps:

"Pretend You're Rich" dessert

So, you know how pine warblers get to eat all the pine nuts they want FOR FREE? I have to admit I'm a little jealous.

Pine nuts are one of my favorite things, and since they're also crazy expensive, I only buy them on those rare occasions when I feel carefree about money and like to pretend I'm rich at the grocery store. Thankfully, a very kind-hearted friend recently gifted me a huge bag of Costco pine nuts (and pecans). I'm more thrilled than a girl with two huge nutsacks should be.

If you know what's good and like to pretend you're rich too (and/or that you own an adorable little trattoria in Italy), you might like this:

"Pretend You're Rich" Pine Nut Cookies 

2 c. pine nuts (aka: Pine Diamonds; Pine Trust Funds)
1 c. confectioner's sugar
1/4 c. almond paste (aka: Sweet Daddy Warbucks Paste)
 1 teasp. pure vanilla extract
1 lg. (golden) egg
1/2 c. all-purpose flour (If you wanna go slummin' to keep it real, try the Publix brand.)
 1/4 teasp. baking powder
1/4 teasp. salt
 + zest of one large lemon. This is optional, but what kind of nut doesn't like lemon? (See what I did there?)

How to do it: 

1/ Preheat to 350.
2/ Process 3/4 c. pine nuts, sugar, almond paste, and vanilla in food processor until fine crumbs form.
3/ Add egg & pulse to combine.
4/ Add flour, baking powder & salt; process just until dough comes together.
5/ Roll dough into 3/4 in. balls. Roll balls luxuriously in remaining pine nuts, gently pressing to coat. (Like this.)
 6/ Space well apart, like the rows in fancy private school classrooms.
7/ Bake 10-13 mins. or until just golden brown.

You can go straight to gobbling up all this delicate chewy lemony nuttiness straight out the oven. But high rollin' bakers like me like to make it rain first...

New food pt. 2

Ok so this type of food is not new to me. And if it were, I wouldn't admit it because what kind of wackadoo has never had lettuce? But self-made carrots and lettuce is new to me.

Remember early October? That's when I planted these. Mostly on a wing and a prayer. (I just can't use/hear that phrase without thinking "Whoooo could it be? Believe it or not it's just meee...")

I worried over them. Were my lettuces too close together? Did I do a sufficient tilling job to avoid corkscrewed carrots?

Apparently all they needed was about 5 months of neglect and coldness. That might qualify these for the most emo veggies I've ever grown.

Actually, this haphazard arrangement kind of looks like the "$100-but-specially-made-to-look-like-I-cut-it-myself" emo hairstyle of lettuce. I call it "The Jared Leto-ce" (Anybody? Jared Leto? Lettuce? ...Maybe it would help to imagine the pot's wearing eyeliner.)

Rest assured, though; Jared Leto-ce has plenty of friends...

One of which is the cutest, tiniest, adorable-ist, "awww"-inducing carrot of all time. Are you ready?

In addition to the "first" of growing these, this is certainly the first time I've referred to a carrot as "cute." I mean, it's just so darn cute--it's toy sized! If the five year old me encountered such a cute carrot, my Jem doll would be in for a real treat!

New food pt. 1

I've always been an egg lover, and lately since I'm trying to get enough protein to successfully create another person, I've been eating eggs pretty much every day.

So when Rena, my egg lady, sent me an email that contained the phrase "I have a few turkey eggs" I was all like "I WILL BE THERE!"

While turkey eggs are not as large as the dinosaur eggs the Chopped contestants find in their baskets, they're still a fun adventure and plenty large. Here's what they look like:

The egg on the bottom is a regular chicken egg for scale. It's blue, even though you can't tell in this picture.


Turkey eggs, or at least the eggs from whatever particular type of turkey this is, are beautifully freckled, and with a really tough shell. To describe the yolk*, you might use words like bulbous, girthy, globular, or pudding-y. Really. Scrambling these was like scrambling pudding.

They did not taste like pudding, though. Turkey eggs that taste like pudding would blow my mind. They were a bit richer, almost fattier tasting than chicken eggs, and totally delicious with a little salt, pepper, butter and dill.

Added bonus to my egg adventure: Doug got to come closer than ever to smelling an actual turkey. He was utterly olfactorily enthralled.

*I took a pick of the cracked eggs, but then thought that might gross people out. I don't know why an egg yolk would gross anyone out, but some folks are precious and delicate and weird about food like that. (I'll never forget the time a person who eats cow body parts tried to convince me that tomato seeds are "gross.") 

Vintage vals

I was thinking the other day about what Valentine's Day is like for kids and what a big deal it must seem. How you spend an hour at school decorating your Valentine's box, and you buy valentines for everyone in your class. I don't remember if we were allowed to put candies in certain ones for our friends, but I do remember that those were the best ones--those little 3-D envelopes you just knew had a red heart sucker or a couple of conversation hearts in it. Sometimes the rich kids would stuff them with a chocolate heart.

Looking at those little "50 pack for kids" valentines at Target the other day, I was struck by how commercial they all are. I'm sure they were like that when I was a kid, but as an adult it makes me sad--like, to tell someone you like them, you have to support Disney or the Hannah Montana Corporation or Justin Beiber, Inc? (are those the same?)

I've always been drawn to Vintage Whatevers, but in light of the above, I find the vintage valentine's lack of commercialism-media grossness so refreshing. I mean, I'm sure they had their status-symbol associations, but in general they just seem so much more earnest to me. Like, they're not about showing off what cartoon or hip pop star you like. They're about love, friendship, and kindness.

There are so many great vintage vals out there.* Here are some of my faves:

Valentines that would get your kid expelled from school today

A! naked! baby! Naked! Now that's a buttload of trouble.

That's wholesome. 

Kitten valentines (duh)

This combines both categories--cuteness and expulsion! 

Seriously. I would not kit about true love.  

Valentines with food puns

I have kind of a gutter mind, so this one makes me giggle.  I mean, his spoon's totally in her tea.

I would love to get pickled with you, my darling onionhead! 

Three puns in this one! THREE!

I would totally send you this one,
since turnips are the only vegetables I can grow. 

Victorian amazingness

As much as I love the puns, these simple images are nice too.

Here's a really cool reception/ At least you'll say there's no deception/
It says as plain as it can say/ Old fellow you'd best stay away
Trans: You are not good enough for a classy girl like me. For starters, get new pants. 

Finally, if you have five minutes, you should go here and watch some victorian cards in action. The little surprises may be the adult equivalent of finding a conversation heart in your Miley Cyrus© card. 

*Of course, I am not one of those folks who think that everything that's vintage is awesome. There are some amazingly racist vintage valentines that, rightly so, would also fall under the first category (except, sadly, maybe not in Alabama). There's also a baby cow valentine that reads, "I'd veal so happy if you'd be my valentine." Both of those make me want to cry my eyes out. That's why I didn't post them. I want to think about happy things instead, like the possibility of the roofers finally being done on the house, and eating sushi tonight with my honey. HVD! 

2-3 pm birdies

There's this song by Band of Horses called "Infinite Arms." It's good for a lot of reasons, one of which is the lines:

I love the morning/ I like to listen/ to 4 am birdies/ begging to feed... 

I don't know why I love that so much. Maybe because it's this neck-tattoed scraggly-haired rocker dude singing about "birdies" in such an unembarrassed and earnest way.

Anyway, I really like birdies too, and so, of course, does this guy:

But 4 am is just plain crazytalk. Early afternoon sounds more like it to me.

So, yesterday I caught the Carolina Wren at the feeder and decided I was determined to get a picture of her. I ended up sitting the window for about 45 minutes watching birds and taking pictures of them, being very still and quiet and feeling a little like I was doing yoga. I didn't realize I'd be birdwatching for so long. It just happened, and fortunately, I'd already finished my lesson plans.

I'm working (slowly) on improving my photography skills. For the moment, here's where I am:

Titmouse

Chickadee (Carolina?)

And finally, the lovely Carolina Wren. What a cute face--totally worth waiting for.

Happy things: lately

Here're some recent things I'm glad about: 

Those delicious little Cuties clementines. I eat like 3 a day. 

That when the yoga teacher didn't show for my class on Sunday, I was the only one, in a class chock-full of students, to actually get up and go to the front desk and ask about it. And then, instead of leaving, I converted my irritation into a great ride on the bike. 

Special K cereal on BOGO at the Bruno's. I love a sale, and the new oatmeal honey is really good. 

That Gabrielle Giffords is going to be ok.  

The very kind stranger on Ravelry who responded to my question about a pattern within 3 minutes, and had the time and patience to explain it to me. 

 

This kitty.

A long, gorgeous, and glad-sounding letter from a dear friend who recently moved away.  

That my husband and I ask each other for advice.  

That Big Love is back.   

This cartoon.

 

Tomorrow's the first real day of my American Lit class and that means a date with good ole' Walt Whitman.

Not a poetry blog: Chaps

In the poetry world, there's these things called chapbooks. Chaps. The idea is that they're like the chapter of a book--about 20 pages of poetry.



Several years ago, I kind of thought of chaps as half-assed (Get it? Chaps? Assed?!), but over the years, I've gained respect for and realized I really like reading them. There are SO MANY poets right now that it's nice to be able to pick up a handful of chaps as sort of an introduction to new poets and to help decide who you'd like to buy full length books from. 


Contemporary poetry books are rarely available at libraries, so if you want to read them, you have to buy them. Supporting poets and poetry presses is super awesome, but spending a small fortune because every single person you know has at least one book is something else... So chaps are a good way to get around that and still get  your good reads on. 

Read me, cowboy! 

Anyway, the good news is that I've just learned that Dancing Girl Press  has accepted my chapbook manuscript for publication! (Along with my dear poet friend Kirsten Jorgenson's manuscript.) This will be my first chap so I'm especially thrilled. Hooray and thank you to DGP! 


So, look for our chaps in the future. They'll give you an idea about what our whole package is like.*  (Mine's called "Circumstances of the House & Moon." It'll be the one with fringes.) 




*1/ Package! You know, cause of the cut outs and the crotch and the whole butt window and stuff... Eh?     2/ Hint: rhymes with "the shit." 

My eggs are gorgeouser than yours

Almost every day I eat eggs from Rena, the local Egg Lady. She emails all her customers every week to remind us she'll be outside the church on Thursday afternoon selling eggs. She signs all her emails "LOL," "LOVE," and "GOD BLESS" and with this little chicken face:  .

She gives everyone hugs and crochet dish rags for bringing back egg crates. She is one of my favorite people in this town, and her all-natural, home-laid eggs are my favorite eggs in this town.

Not only are they delicious, but they are so much more gorgeous than anything that comes out of a chicken's butt has a right to be.

I love the way the light from the browns bounces off the pale blue/greens.

Winter fragments

1/ I love my husband with all my heart. Really I do. But sometimes it's nice when he's away for the weekend. There's that sweet, familiar "I miss you" feeling... plus I actually get stuff done.  My relationship with the internet's pretty much like that. It was nice to take a little break from it while visiting family at Christmas, but it sure is great to be together again.


2/ How to start the perfect Christmas: Have your husband, Santa, or anyone else besides you, make delicious Bloody Marys for the whole family.

Here's Mr. K&G's lovingly and meticulously perfected special recipe for spicy Bloodys. (It'll help you start the perfect New Years day too.)

A beverage that comes with snacks--
can't beat it!

Fill a cocktail shaker halfway with ice. Add four shots of V-8 Spicy formula. Add one shot of vodka. It doesn't matter what kind. Then add about four dashes of Tabasco sauce, about two dashes of Worcestershire sauce, a couple shakes of garlic powder, a couple shakes of celery salt, a couple grinds of black pepper, and a little lemon juice. Shake it up, strain it into a highball glass, add a celery stalk and a lemon wedge to garnish, and make your hangover go away.

If you're wondering how to end the perfect Christmas?: Go see The Fighter with a belly full of turnips and pumpkin pie--and with no one else in the theater!


3/ The day after Christmas it snowed in South Carolina. Let me repeat that: Snow in South Carolina! We don't see too much legitimate snow in the South and never this early, so it's especially magical when we do.  I remember as a kid getting so thrilled over the tiniest little 1/4 inch of icy, wet "snow" (that was probably more like sleet) and this time the feeling was no different. Except this snow was real--official, dry, fluffy, snowball fight-ready, crunch-under-your-feet snow.

My mom and I put a sweater on the dog and took him into the back yard. He was scared at first, and then realized how fun pushing a gross old tennis ball around the fresh clean snow with your nose can be. We walked around the yard, played with Simon, and delighted in the puffed-up flashes of scarlet from a handful of cardinals watching us from snow-lined pine branches. It was just us--My mom and me and the snow, our faces turned, mouths open, catching big fat snowflakes on our tongues. It was one of my very favorite moments of the year. Really, it was one of my very favorite moments ever...

Snow is for gettin' goofy. 

Happy things: sentences written in actual English

So I've returned from Thanksgiving break to find myself not only a couple lbs thicker, thanks to Sweet Potato Casserole and other Usual Suspects, but also in the thick of the almost-end-of-semester essay grading flurry. And it's not pretty. Neither of those types of thicknesses are pretty. 

cummings's style: perfect for poetry;
lousy for emailing your instructor a question you
want her to actually understand and answer. 

Today as I was learning from student essays that "the information informs us" and that "if we look deeper we can defiantly [definitely?] find the hidden messages of deaf  [death?] in the poem," and responding to various emails that look like e.e. cummings poems minus the line breaks... I thought of my husband's former thesis advisor commenting on a grammatically confounding phrase that he should "try English." After a semester of deciphering all kinds of sentence fragments, run ons and phrases tangled beyond hope like every necklace chain I've ever owned, I would love to try English. 

And soon, when the semester's over, I'll get a chance and I can't wait! I'm going to start with the pile of poetry books shuffled around on my desk for months, along with these books I just got for my birthday: 

How to Fight Like a Zombie

Paul Guest's memoir One More Theory About Happiness

The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2010

All in my sweet future. All written in the actual, beautiful, readable, non-headache-inducing, makes-sense ENGLISH I crave and remember so fondly....

Happy things: fuzzy yarn

So I think The Secret of Nimh has to be one of the best animated movies of all time. For one, I've always been able to get behind an animal revolt, even since I was like seven.

Plus, remember Jeremy? The hopeless romantic yarn-collector crow who gets all googly eyed whenever he sees pretty yarn or sparkly things and is perpetually in some state of being accidentally tied up in an array of his own strands...?

Well, on some levels I can identify with him. Here's what I mean:



The thing about this clip is that, in addition to just being awesome, it also gives you an idea of what the scene at my house looks like when I'm working on a knitting project.

Right now that knitting project is top secret, but I want to share the yarn with you. Bright flame-colored mohair. Exactly the kind of thing any crow would love to have wrapped around his beak.

It's fuzzy and feels like working with cotton candy, only it doesn't dissipate or make your fingers sticky, and even if your project turns out looking rather... abstract... well, you don't care because working with this yarn is even better than yoga in terms of zenning you out.

Really. Working with this yarn is like petting the softest baby bunny known to man while actually getting something productive done at the same time! Magical!

I also like the way the skeins look like red velvet donuts. Mmmm... red velvet donuts. Does that actually exist in the world? God I hope so.

Happy things: everybody has a dream

There's nothing quite like a good view. 

Happy things: outside

After recently moving out of a soul-sucking apartment complex, I am so happy to have a yard. Well, we're renting so I don't technically have a yard... I mean, I'm not that adult.

Turns out that yards and things in yards make me happy. There's nothing like looking out your window, and instead of every day seeing your neighbor's cigarette butts scattered all over the parking lot beside their truck nutz (we keep it classy here in Alabama)... you get to see this:

Now those are my kind of danglers.

And instead of having to walk outside to move the neighbor's pizza box off of your little balcony, you get to do this:

Highly recommended: The Cooks Illustrated Guide to Grilling portobello marinade.

Rather than hearing your downstairs neighbor slam the door every time she comes and goes, and rather than hearing her yell at her boyfriend (who may or may not have just gotten out of prison), you get to hear the sweet gentle buzzing of friendly bumblers.

The living things... well, ok, the living things minus the squirrels who steal the birdseed and the roaches the size of your car... are really one of the best things about a yard.

This little guy's called a Clouded Sulphur. What a great name.
Fortunately, he does not smell like sulphur or we would not be friends. 

This visitor was spotted about a month ago. I'm still waiting for the good luck to kick in. In the meantime, just thinking about her so patiently posing for my camera, plus devouring those bastard mosquitoes, is simply delightful.

And these guys make me happiest of all:

Hanging out in the watering can one morning.

Look at me. Now at your pile of papers to grade. Now back to me. Now back at your desk. Now back to me. I am so awesome. I am in a watering can. On a unicorn. With cake. And rainbows.  

Well, hello there.

You will now have a very good day. And I don't even need rainbows.