I deliberated for a long time before I wrote yesterday's post. It might not seem like it at times, but I put a lot of effort into this blog. When I clicked "publish" yesterday, I was ready to say what I said.
I am extremely grateful to everyone who left supportive comments, and to everyone who has wished me luck or offered prayers. It helps immensely to know that I have friends, both in the real world, and in cyberspace, who will stand by me in the difficult times and rejoice with me in the exciting times.
But I was a little caught off guard by one anonymous commenter. And I went back and forth in my head as to whether I should respond at all, and I had pretty much decided that I would say nothing. But when another anonymous commenter decided to defend me, and a mini-debate began to unfold in the comments section, I decided that I should say something.
But what should I say?
Do I try to explain myself, and clear up her (or his - I don't feel like writing a slash every time, so let's just use a gender neutral "she" for the time being) misconceptions of me? Do I clarify that my statement about not being able to afford rent referred to the reason I am not moving out of my in-laws' basement, and not to an outstanding bill that I owe to someone and am not paying? Do I explain that my proposed trip to Florida would have cost very, very little, as we were planning on driving and splitting gas four ways and staying with grandparents?
Do I try to defend my actions? Justify my frustrations with anecdotes? Argue that my sanity requires a little bit of respite here and there, and that compared to the cost of treating stress with psychiatry, a little vacation here and there is really the cheapest option?
This is my blog. It says so at the top of the page. Which means that I get to decide what goes on this blog. People will not always understand what I'm trying to say. That might be partly my fault for not explaining things well enough, but I have noticed that even the best writers on the Internet are often misunderstood. So I won't try to explain myself any further than I already have. I can only take so much responsibility for what other people think of me.
This is my blog, not my husband's. And yes, he knows about it, and he reads it occasionally, entirely with my blessing. I don't say anything here that I would try to hide from him. But I also try not to say anything here that is not my story to share. If you read through my archives, you will find very sparse details about my husband's illness. Because it's not my illness to share. What you will find a lot of, however, is me struggling with how his illness affects me. Because that is what is mine to share. (And, since I have now made the suggestion, here are links to some posts where I do exactly that, in June, in July, in November, and in January.)
So, I am not going to try to justify my emotional response by elaborating on my husband's illness. I believe that I am entitled to my feelings, whether they are objectively justifiable or not. Any therapist worth their salt will tell you that. And I feel like I have had a very difficult year or two, and I occasionally feel bitter about that, just as I also occasionally feel sad, lonely, angry, hopeful, happy, or amused.
And I think that's the most italics I have ever used in one blog post.
It is difficult to hear that someone thinks you are living your life wrong, that your priorities are skewed, or that you don't love your husband enough. It is made even more difficult when you know, deep down, that most of those judgements are based on misconceptions, which could theoretically be cleared up if you just poured enough explanation into them. Or maybe it is made more difficult by the knowledge that you're really not a perfect person, not a perfect wife, and that, while you think you are doing the best you can with a difficult situation, perhaps you could be doing better.
But in the end, this is my blog. I choose to share this part of myself with the world, along with everything that entails. People will judge me, people will criticize me, people will insult me. But people will also encourage me, support me, and empathize with me.
At least today, I think that the trade-off is worth it.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
Sharing Time
Okay, that thing I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, that I said I wasn't ready to talk about yet? I'm going to talk about it now. I interviewed for a management position at Starbucks. And the interview went well, but long story short, there just isn't room for me right now in the management ranks of Starbucks. A position might open up in a few months, or next summer at the latest, but the fact of the matter is that, with Jeremy still not working, I can't keep waiting around forever. I love Starbucks, and I love working there, and I really wanted to move up in the company. But even more than that, I need my life to move out of waiting mode into living mode.
I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but when I left Canada and the legal profession and moved down here to Pennsylvania where I can't be a lawyer, it was because we had made a major life decision: We were ready to start a family. So I didn't care what kind of job I found, because I would be quitting in nine months to stay at home and raise our children. I found my Starbucks job, and it seemed like the perfect stopgap - flexible hours, good benefits, and working with people and coffee, which are two things I love. I figured, when I had kids, I could take my maternity leave, then maybe even go back for a few hours a week just to get out of the house and have a little bit of adult contact.
Then Jeremy got sick. Then he lost his job. Then he didn't get better, and didn't go back to work. And Starbucks went from being a nice side job to being all we had. And, unfortunately, it wasn't enough for us to live on, especially with my student loans being what they are. We are still living in my in-laws' basement, and as much as I love them and appreciate all the support they have been giving us, I am a grown woman who had her own household for four years before moving in with them, and I need my own living space. And, to put it bluntly, if Jeremy can't take care of me, I need to take care of myself.
So, I've taken children off the table for the time being. I still would like to be a mommy some day, but not with things the way they are right now. And not for a few more years at least. Because even if this week's doctor's appointment brings all of the answers we are seeking, and Jeremy is completely better by next week, and gainfully employed by the following week, it's going to take a long time for me to really feel comfortable putting my life in his hands so completely again.
Deciding to have kids takes a lot of trust. It's not an aspect of the decision that most people think about much, but really, especially when you are someone as self-sufficient as I am, it's a scary thought. I can usually find work, even if the work I find is almost always below my qualifications. I file our taxes, make sure the bills are paid, and loans are paid. I handle pretty much every aspect of our social lives, make sure we get to church on time, make sure we eat (well, that one is slightly less my responsibility since we've been living with the in-laws). I buy groceries, keep the house clean (when it gets cleaned at all, that is), do the laundry. I take responsibility for everything.
So, when we decided to have kids, it meant handing over a lot of reins. It meant biting my tongue and making sure that, at the very least, he could be responsible for the income side of things. And he did, eventually, find a good job with benefits. And I started to let him have that responsibility. And honestly, it didn't feel all that bad. I liked knowing that he could be responsible for something, that it didn't all have to be resting on my shoulders.
And then he got sick. And never got better.
It's strange to think that you can be completely ready for something one day, and then completely unprepared for the same thing a few months later. But it was a really big deal for me to hand over those reins, and, having taken them back, it's going to be even harder to do a second time. And as much as it breaks my heart, and makes my ovaries cry, to say so, I'm not ready to have kids anymore.
Where am I going with all of this?
Some friends of mine are buying a house in Ridley Park this month. They are planning on finishing the basement into a separate apartment. This apartment was where we were planning on moving if I got the assistant manager job with Starbucks, because the store I had applied to was just around the corner from the house they are buying. When I didn't get the job, I wasn't sure what I would do. I didn't know if I was ready to start applying for jobs outside of Starbucks, but I did start looking at listings online, just to see what was out there.
On Thursday night, I found out I that didn't get the assistant manager job.
On Friday night, I found a listing for a legal assistant/paralegal job at a firm that seems to do a lot of the kind of law I am really passionate about (civil rights, criminal defense, etc.), and the office is about ten minutes away from the house that Erin and Brian are buying. I wasn't sure if I was ready to start applying for other jobs yet, but I wrote an email cover letter, saved it as a draft, then hemmed and hawed for about two hours before finally pressing send.
On Saturday, I worked, and managed to not think about it too much.
On Sunday morning, I started to worry. I'm really very comfortable where I am, after all, even if I don't make enough to pay rent. It's frightening to put oneself out there like that, and I began to wish I hadn't sent that email. I was afraid of that inevitable call - the one I got in response to every single legal assistant job application I put in last year when I was looking for work - that call that said, more or less, "Why on earth would I hire you? You have no experience as a legal assistant, and you'll run off at the first sign of a better opportunity." I suppose I was equally afraid of a call for an interview, too, because that would mean change. And change is a little bit scary, even when you know, deep down, how badly you need it. I prayed, all through the morning service, that I wouldn't get a call at all. So much easier to not have to think about it.
On Sunday afternoon, the family (sans Jeremy, of course) all went out to Red Lobster for dinner. I began chatting with my brother-in-law about taking a trip to Florida during his Spring Break at the end of March. We started to get excited about the idea, and he texted a couple of friends to see if they were interested. I've had a stressful couple of weeks, between the job interview and waiting for an answer, and Jeremy's health taking another turn for the worse. A vacation sounded like a fantastic idea to me. I pushed the job application out of my mind, and chatted dreamily about beaches and Disney World.
Then my cell phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize, so I decided to answer it, because I thought it might be someone from work. It wasn't. It was the lawyer I had sent the job application to. He told me he was actually completely done interviewing, and just had a few references left to call. He told me he knew it sounded a little weird, but he had told the other applicants that he would call them back with an answer on Monday, so was there any way that I could meet with him tonight? My heart beating out of my chest, and my hands shaking, I told him I would.
Sunday night, I had an impromptu job interview. He told me about his practice, and it sounds like he does exactly the kind of work I am passionate about. He told me about the position, and it sounds like it's the exactly the kind of job I would be good at and enjoy. He wasn't put off by my lack of experience as a legal assistant, and seemed to think that my experience as a lawyer in Canada would be an asset, rather than a liability. He offered me the job.
And I accepted it.
So, I have officially put in my two week's notice at Starbucks, and I will be starting a new job, a new career path, and hopefully, in many ways, a new life, exactly two Mondays from now. And I am both excited and petrified about it, which is not necessarily a bad thing. The biggest decisions in life require a little bit of risk-taking, and I would be an idiot if I wasn't at least a little bit afraid. But I would be more of an idiot if I let than stop me from striving for something better.
They say a change is as good as a rest, whoever they are. So I guess I won't be going to Florida for Spring Break, but I think my brother-in-law will understand.
I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but when I left Canada and the legal profession and moved down here to Pennsylvania where I can't be a lawyer, it was because we had made a major life decision: We were ready to start a family. So I didn't care what kind of job I found, because I would be quitting in nine months to stay at home and raise our children. I found my Starbucks job, and it seemed like the perfect stopgap - flexible hours, good benefits, and working with people and coffee, which are two things I love. I figured, when I had kids, I could take my maternity leave, then maybe even go back for a few hours a week just to get out of the house and have a little bit of adult contact.
Then Jeremy got sick. Then he lost his job. Then he didn't get better, and didn't go back to work. And Starbucks went from being a nice side job to being all we had. And, unfortunately, it wasn't enough for us to live on, especially with my student loans being what they are. We are still living in my in-laws' basement, and as much as I love them and appreciate all the support they have been giving us, I am a grown woman who had her own household for four years before moving in with them, and I need my own living space. And, to put it bluntly, if Jeremy can't take care of me, I need to take care of myself.
So, I've taken children off the table for the time being. I still would like to be a mommy some day, but not with things the way they are right now. And not for a few more years at least. Because even if this week's doctor's appointment brings all of the answers we are seeking, and Jeremy is completely better by next week, and gainfully employed by the following week, it's going to take a long time for me to really feel comfortable putting my life in his hands so completely again.
Deciding to have kids takes a lot of trust. It's not an aspect of the decision that most people think about much, but really, especially when you are someone as self-sufficient as I am, it's a scary thought. I can usually find work, even if the work I find is almost always below my qualifications. I file our taxes, make sure the bills are paid, and loans are paid. I handle pretty much every aspect of our social lives, make sure we get to church on time, make sure we eat (well, that one is slightly less my responsibility since we've been living with the in-laws). I buy groceries, keep the house clean (when it gets cleaned at all, that is), do the laundry. I take responsibility for everything.
So, when we decided to have kids, it meant handing over a lot of reins. It meant biting my tongue and making sure that, at the very least, he could be responsible for the income side of things. And he did, eventually, find a good job with benefits. And I started to let him have that responsibility. And honestly, it didn't feel all that bad. I liked knowing that he could be responsible for something, that it didn't all have to be resting on my shoulders.
And then he got sick. And never got better.
It's strange to think that you can be completely ready for something one day, and then completely unprepared for the same thing a few months later. But it was a really big deal for me to hand over those reins, and, having taken them back, it's going to be even harder to do a second time. And as much as it breaks my heart, and makes my ovaries cry, to say so, I'm not ready to have kids anymore.
Where am I going with all of this?
Some friends of mine are buying a house in Ridley Park this month. They are planning on finishing the basement into a separate apartment. This apartment was where we were planning on moving if I got the assistant manager job with Starbucks, because the store I had applied to was just around the corner from the house they are buying. When I didn't get the job, I wasn't sure what I would do. I didn't know if I was ready to start applying for jobs outside of Starbucks, but I did start looking at listings online, just to see what was out there.
On Thursday night, I found out I that didn't get the assistant manager job.
On Friday night, I found a listing for a legal assistant/paralegal job at a firm that seems to do a lot of the kind of law I am really passionate about (civil rights, criminal defense, etc.), and the office is about ten minutes away from the house that Erin and Brian are buying. I wasn't sure if I was ready to start applying for other jobs yet, but I wrote an email cover letter, saved it as a draft, then hemmed and hawed for about two hours before finally pressing send.
On Saturday, I worked, and managed to not think about it too much.
On Sunday morning, I started to worry. I'm really very comfortable where I am, after all, even if I don't make enough to pay rent. It's frightening to put oneself out there like that, and I began to wish I hadn't sent that email. I was afraid of that inevitable call - the one I got in response to every single legal assistant job application I put in last year when I was looking for work - that call that said, more or less, "Why on earth would I hire you? You have no experience as a legal assistant, and you'll run off at the first sign of a better opportunity." I suppose I was equally afraid of a call for an interview, too, because that would mean change. And change is a little bit scary, even when you know, deep down, how badly you need it. I prayed, all through the morning service, that I wouldn't get a call at all. So much easier to not have to think about it.
On Sunday afternoon, the family (sans Jeremy, of course) all went out to Red Lobster for dinner. I began chatting with my brother-in-law about taking a trip to Florida during his Spring Break at the end of March. We started to get excited about the idea, and he texted a couple of friends to see if they were interested. I've had a stressful couple of weeks, between the job interview and waiting for an answer, and Jeremy's health taking another turn for the worse. A vacation sounded like a fantastic idea to me. I pushed the job application out of my mind, and chatted dreamily about beaches and Disney World.
Then my cell phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize, so I decided to answer it, because I thought it might be someone from work. It wasn't. It was the lawyer I had sent the job application to. He told me he was actually completely done interviewing, and just had a few references left to call. He told me he knew it sounded a little weird, but he had told the other applicants that he would call them back with an answer on Monday, so was there any way that I could meet with him tonight? My heart beating out of my chest, and my hands shaking, I told him I would.
Sunday night, I had an impromptu job interview. He told me about his practice, and it sounds like he does exactly the kind of work I am passionate about. He told me about the position, and it sounds like it's the exactly the kind of job I would be good at and enjoy. He wasn't put off by my lack of experience as a legal assistant, and seemed to think that my experience as a lawyer in Canada would be an asset, rather than a liability. He offered me the job.
And I accepted it.
So, I have officially put in my two week's notice at Starbucks, and I will be starting a new job, a new career path, and hopefully, in many ways, a new life, exactly two Mondays from now. And I am both excited and petrified about it, which is not necessarily a bad thing. The biggest decisions in life require a little bit of risk-taking, and I would be an idiot if I wasn't at least a little bit afraid. But I would be more of an idiot if I let than stop me from striving for something better.
They say a change is as good as a rest, whoever they are. So I guess I won't be going to Florida for Spring Break, but I think my brother-in-law will understand.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
The smartest fifth grader ever
So, we were watching some ridiculous Millionaire spin-off game show last night, to bide the time until Lost. The question had something to do with whether or not there was a numerical value for works of fiction in the Dewey decimal system. Everyone but me seemed to think there wasn't, because libraries always have a separate fiction section organized just by author's name. I insisted that there actually is a number for fiction, it's just not used very often, because it's easier to sort the fiction separately. Then the contestant, and all the fifth graders, revealed their guesses, and they all agreed with everyone else but me, and the host confirmed that they were all right and I was wrong.
But we looked it up online, and not only was I right about there being a fiction section of the Dewey decimal system, but my explanation of why it wasn't used very often was almost word for word the same as the explanation we found online. Color me vindicated.
(Especially when, five minutes later, Jon made some kind of comment about Ivory soap floating, and I told him it floats because of air bubbles. Then he laughed at me, and looked THAT up online to prove me wrong. Except that I was right. Again. When did I become such a repository for useless knowledge?)
EDIT: Okay, I looked the question up online, and it turns out that the show wasn't wrong after all. They just phrased the question as a double negative, and, to be fair, we weren't really paying all that much attention, and we discussed the topic in general terms, rather than exactly the way the show was asking the question. So, I was still right, and my friends were all still wrong, but the TV was right as well. Gotta give credit where credit is due.
But we looked it up online, and not only was I right about there being a fiction section of the Dewey decimal system, but my explanation of why it wasn't used very often was almost word for word the same as the explanation we found online. Color me vindicated.
(Especially when, five minutes later, Jon made some kind of comment about Ivory soap floating, and I told him it floats because of air bubbles. Then he laughed at me, and looked THAT up online to prove me wrong. Except that I was right. Again. When did I become such a repository for useless knowledge?)
EDIT: Okay, I looked the question up online, and it turns out that the show wasn't wrong after all. They just phrased the question as a double negative, and, to be fair, we weren't really paying all that much attention, and we discussed the topic in general terms, rather than exactly the way the show was asking the question. So, I was still right, and my friends were all still wrong, but the TV was right as well. Gotta give credit where credit is due.
I suppose there are unhealthier things to be craving...
I have an irrational and overwhelming desire to go swimming right now. I think it started with an idea, hey, we could go swimming tonight, rather than bowling or watching a movie or any of the normal Friday night activities. Then I started looking online for a place to go swimming, and they just don't seem to exist. In Ottawa, there are about 30 public, indoor swimming pools, where they have open swim times or lane swim times, where you just show up with a bathing suit and a couple of dollars, and you get to swim. There are also three indoor wave pools, where you show up with a couple more dollars and get to swim in waves. But these places don't seem to exist around here. The only pools I can seem to find are either outdoor or members-only or both. It seems downright silly to me to join a gym just to go swimming once in a while. And wave pools? They don't even seem to exist except as part of outdoor water parks. And so, what started as a silly idea has become an obsession. Pretty much every day, I hop online, and search in a new and different way for a place to swim. Maybe a college or university? Students only. Maybe the Y? Members only (and the membership there is more than many gyms!).
Really, Philadelphia, your summer is not that much longer than Ottawa's. You get, what, five more weeks of good swimming weather, and that's enough for you to feel like indoor pools are a waste of wall? I can understand the lack of curling rinks, but really, I wouldn't have thought of indoor swimming pools as a Canadian concept. Maybe it's a local thing...
Any thoughts?
Really, Philadelphia, your summer is not that much longer than Ottawa's. You get, what, five more weeks of good swimming weather, and that's enough for you to feel like indoor pools are a waste of wall? I can understand the lack of curling rinks, but really, I wouldn't have thought of indoor swimming pools as a Canadian concept. Maybe it's a local thing...
Any thoughts?
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Back by Popular Demand
So, it has been pointed out to me by some that I haven't been blogging much lately. I guess I've been too busy thinking about things that I can't blog about yet. Hopefully, I will be able to discuss those things soon. Until then, I've decided to go back to that post where I pretended to blog about a bunch of things without going into detail about any of them, and turn a couple of those things into proper posts. Starting with emo poetry, requested specifically by TwilightTreader, in haiku form, and who can say no to a haikued request?
Also requested specifically by TwilightTreader, I've decided to elaborate on how I got a deep fryer from bras. Actually, it's not that exciting of a story. A friend of mine was selected to participate in a marketing research study about bras and panties and was allowed to include a couple of her girlfriends in the discussion. So, we talked about bras for an hour or so, surprised ourselves at how much we ended up having to say on the subject, and then were each handed an envelope of money for our time. I decided that I didn't want my bra money to disappear into the abyss of my bank account, so rather than depositing it, I decided to spend it on specific items. That way, those items would always have that special significance for me: I bought this with my bra money.
A couple of weeks ago, I had lunch with Jon in the city, and the place where we ate had these amazing sweet potato fries with pesto mayonnaise dipping sauce. I liked them so much I decided to replicate them. I actually had great success with the dipping sauce, but I couldn't get the fries to crisp up. That's when I made bra money purchase number one: a deep fryer. And I have since mastered the art of sweet potato fries with pesto dipping sauce, which, when it comes right down to it, could actually save me money, when you consider the train ticket into the city and the price of lunch at 30th Street Station...
Other things I have deep fried with great success: Chicken wings, battered Oreo cookies.
Things I have deep fried with some success: Battered Snickers bars, just plain batter.
Things I have been completely unsuccessful at deep frying: Cheesecake.
Things I hope to deep fry in the near future: Corn fritters, funnel cakes, french fries, tempura, sushi, doughnuts, fruit. Other suggestions always welcome.
For those who are curious, the rest of my bra money went to the purchase of Season 2 of Lost on DVD, to accompany Season 1, which I was given for my birthday, and which my newly-converted Lost-fan friends were almost finished with. At the rate Dan is going, he might actually be caught up in time to watch this week's episode with us. I'm rooting for you, Dan! Who needs sleep, when there is Lost to watch?
Recipes
Pesto Dipping Sauce
- 1 packet Knorr Pesto Sauce Mix
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 cup mayonnaise (I think, I didn't really measure)
Mix oil and pesto mix in a bowl. Add mayonnaise.
Sweet Potato Fries
- About 2 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled and julienned
- Salt and pepper
Frying times will depend on your individual fryer and the exact amount of fries, but basically, fry them for about 8-10 minutes to cook them, then lift frying basket out of the oil, allow it to heat back up to temperature, then put them back in the oil for about 5 minutes to crisp. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, serve with pesto sauce.
Deep Fried Oreos
- A box of double-stuffed Oreo cookies
- 1/2 cup flour
- 1/4 cup powdered sugar
- 1 egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/3 cup milk
Mix all ingredients except for the cookies in a bowl while oil heats. Ignore the instructions all over the deep fryer that say not to operate with the lid open, and operate with the lid open and the basket submerged. (Just don't sue me if you burn yourself. I am not giving advice here, I swear. I'm just explaining how I did it.) Dip cookies one at a time into the batter to coat them, then lower them slowly into the hot oil with a fork, making sure they don't get stuck to the brew basket at the bottom. They should float to the top in a few seconds, as long as they aren't stuck. Allow the cookies to float and cook for, uh, I have no idea how much time, not very long, turning them every 30 seconds or so, until they are a pretty golden brown color. Let them cool for a minute or two before eating them, but don't let them cool too much, because the whole point of the exercise is the gooeyness of the melty white stuff in the middle, which congeals again fairly quickly.
Also requested specifically by TwilightTreader, I've decided to elaborate on how I got a deep fryer from bras. Actually, it's not that exciting of a story. A friend of mine was selected to participate in a marketing research study about bras and panties and was allowed to include a couple of her girlfriends in the discussion. So, we talked about bras for an hour or so, surprised ourselves at how much we ended up having to say on the subject, and then were each handed an envelope of money for our time. I decided that I didn't want my bra money to disappear into the abyss of my bank account, so rather than depositing it, I decided to spend it on specific items. That way, those items would always have that special significance for me: I bought this with my bra money.
A couple of weeks ago, I had lunch with Jon in the city, and the place where we ate had these amazing sweet potato fries with pesto mayonnaise dipping sauce. I liked them so much I decided to replicate them. I actually had great success with the dipping sauce, but I couldn't get the fries to crisp up. That's when I made bra money purchase number one: a deep fryer. And I have since mastered the art of sweet potato fries with pesto dipping sauce, which, when it comes right down to it, could actually save me money, when you consider the train ticket into the city and the price of lunch at 30th Street Station...
Other things I have deep fried with great success: Chicken wings, battered Oreo cookies.
Things I have deep fried with some success: Battered Snickers bars, just plain batter.
Things I have been completely unsuccessful at deep frying: Cheesecake.
Things I hope to deep fry in the near future: Corn fritters, funnel cakes, french fries, tempura, sushi, doughnuts, fruit. Other suggestions always welcome.
For those who are curious, the rest of my bra money went to the purchase of Season 2 of Lost on DVD, to accompany Season 1, which I was given for my birthday, and which my newly-converted Lost-fan friends were almost finished with. At the rate Dan is going, he might actually be caught up in time to watch this week's episode with us. I'm rooting for you, Dan! Who needs sleep, when there is Lost to watch?
Recipes
Pesto Dipping Sauce
- 1 packet Knorr Pesto Sauce Mix
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 cup mayonnaise (I think, I didn't really measure)
Mix oil and pesto mix in a bowl. Add mayonnaise.
Sweet Potato Fries
- About 2 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled and julienned
- Salt and pepper
Frying times will depend on your individual fryer and the exact amount of fries, but basically, fry them for about 8-10 minutes to cook them, then lift frying basket out of the oil, allow it to heat back up to temperature, then put them back in the oil for about 5 minutes to crisp. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, serve with pesto sauce.
Deep Fried Oreos
- A box of double-stuffed Oreo cookies
- 1/2 cup flour
- 1/4 cup powdered sugar
- 1 egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/3 cup milk
Mix all ingredients except for the cookies in a bowl while oil heats. Ignore the instructions all over the deep fryer that say not to operate with the lid open, and operate with the lid open and the basket submerged. (Just don't sue me if you burn yourself. I am not giving advice here, I swear. I'm just explaining how I did it.) Dip cookies one at a time into the batter to coat them, then lower them slowly into the hot oil with a fork, making sure they don't get stuck to the brew basket at the bottom. They should float to the top in a few seconds, as long as they aren't stuck. Allow the cookies to float and cook for, uh, I have no idea how much time, not very long, turning them every 30 seconds or so, until they are a pretty golden brown color. Let them cool for a minute or two before eating them, but don't let them cool too much, because the whole point of the exercise is the gooeyness of the melty white stuff in the middle, which congeals again fairly quickly.
Scientific
I pinned a butterfly down -
To see what made her beautiful.
I poked and prodded until the fluttering stopped.
I pulled off her wings,
And cut her into tiny, little pieces
To examine on a glass plate under a microscope.
That's when I realized that I had been wrong -
She wasn't beautiful after all.
To see what made her beautiful.
I poked and prodded until the fluttering stopped.
I pulled off her wings,
And cut her into tiny, little pieces
To examine on a glass plate under a microscope.
That's when I realized that I had been wrong -
She wasn't beautiful after all.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
I blame the silliness of this post on the new Blogger format
So, Starbucks is doing this thing right now where you can put your favorite customized drink on a T-shirt (if you're fast enough to click submit immediately after 10 am PST and get one of the very few they are handing out, that is). Not all of the modifications are available, but there are quite a few fun variations. And, because I am a geek, I've been amusing myself by trying to make impossible drink combinations (even though I had to boot into Windows and use IExplore to make the darned thing work). Here is my favorite so far:
Go, my bored internet friends, see what you can come up with. And, if you happen to score a shirt with a freakish drink on it, you would be my hero.
In other news, this head cold that took hold of me on Wednesday, and knocked me almost completely out on Friday seems to be on its way out. Thank goodness I finally figured out how to acquire proper Sudafed. Stupid DayQuil being made with some other useless decongestant now...
Speaking of meth addicts, I had this conversation with a friend the other day:
(18:47:56) ragingchihuahuaX: Ta Da! You're ahead of somebody! :-P
(18:51:17) jule aka b: honestly, though, they're ahead of me
(18:51:28) jule aka b: they have zero net worth
(18:51:34) jule aka b: mine is negative
(18:51:37) ragingchihuahuaX: lol
(18:51:51) ragingchihuahuaX: no, you are not permitted to turn my meth addict joke into self-depreciation
(18:51:55) jule aka b: hahaha
(18:52:01) jule aka b: plus, they have METH
(18:52:19) ragingchihuahuaX: they're the reason you can't buy Sudafed easily anymore
(18:52:30) ragingchihuahuaX: imagine being that hated?
(18:52:37) jule aka b: um
(18:52:41) jule aka b: i'm a LAWYER
(18:52:49) ragingchihuahuaX: lol
(18:53:00) ragingchihuahuaX: I think lawyers are ahead of meth addicts, seriously
(18:53:08) jule aka b: hmm
(18:53:13) jule aka b: perhaps i should ask the internet
So, Internet, which is it? Who is more hated, meth addicts or lawyers?
Go, my bored internet friends, see what you can come up with. And, if you happen to score a shirt with a freakish drink on it, you would be my hero.
In other news, this head cold that took hold of me on Wednesday, and knocked me almost completely out on Friday seems to be on its way out. Thank goodness I finally figured out how to acquire proper Sudafed. Stupid DayQuil being made with some other useless decongestant now...
Speaking of meth addicts, I had this conversation with a friend the other day:
(18:47:56) ragingchihuahuaX: Ta Da! You're ahead of somebody! :-P
(18:51:17) jule aka b: honestly, though, they're ahead of me
(18:51:28) jule aka b: they have zero net worth
(18:51:34) jule aka b: mine is negative
(18:51:37) ragingchihuahuaX: lol
(18:51:51) ragingchihuahuaX: no, you are not permitted to turn my meth addict joke into self-depreciation
(18:51:55) jule aka b: hahaha
(18:52:01) jule aka b: plus, they have METH
(18:52:19) ragingchihuahuaX: they're the reason you can't buy Sudafed easily anymore
(18:52:30) ragingchihuahuaX: imagine being that hated?
(18:52:37) jule aka b: um
(18:52:41) jule aka b: i'm a LAWYER
(18:52:49) ragingchihuahuaX: lol
(18:53:00) ragingchihuahuaX: I think lawyers are ahead of meth addicts, seriously
(18:53:08) jule aka b: hmm
(18:53:13) jule aka b: perhaps i should ask the internet
So, Internet, which is it? Who is more hated, meth addicts or lawyers?
Thursday, February 15, 2007
An Open Letter to My Blog
Dearest,
I'm sorry I missed our anniversary. I had written a really nice post, well, half of one, but then I ran out of energy, and the head cold took over, and I set it aside to finish later, which I didn't, because I went to work and then to bed with nothing else in between, except for taking some nyquil to facilitate the sleeping. Besides, I wasn't really happy with what I wrote, and I didn't want to give you a less-than-perfect blogiversary post. So, in true Jule Ann form, I opted for nothing at all, rather than settling for less than the best.
Fortunately, my standard for apology letters is slightly lower, so this one will do. Please accept my humblest apologies and this flower that I swear I ordered yesterday, that idiot florist is so getting a piece of my mind...
Happy one-year anniversary, my artificial friend.
Love,
Jule Ann.
I'm sorry I missed our anniversary. I had written a really nice post, well, half of one, but then I ran out of energy, and the head cold took over, and I set it aside to finish later, which I didn't, because I went to work and then to bed with nothing else in between, except for taking some nyquil to facilitate the sleeping. Besides, I wasn't really happy with what I wrote, and I didn't want to give you a less-than-perfect blogiversary post. So, in true Jule Ann form, I opted for nothing at all, rather than settling for less than the best.
Fortunately, my standard for apology letters is slightly lower, so this one will do. Please accept my humblest apologies and this flower that I swear I ordered yesterday, that idiot florist is so getting a piece of my mind...
Happy one-year anniversary, my artificial friend.
Love,
Jule Ann.
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Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Hello, out there!
Ever the delinquent blogger, here I am, two weeksish after my last post, trying to decide which of the mediocre, partially-formed posts that are flitting around my brain to commit to type. Some of the contenders:
I bet you can guess which one I went with...
- A thrilling narrative account of the Superbowl party I went to last weekend, including how I didn't really care about the game, but everything looks good in HD, and how I tried to set up a tent in 50 mph winds (it didn't work).
- All of my burning thoughts on the return of Lost. The BUS!!! So crazy!!
- The official rules for choosing a radio station on a long car trip by yourself.
- A one-line post that goes something like, "I am never ever ever driving by myself to Vermont and back in one weekend. Ever." (Composed while stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for 45 minutes in New Jersey.)
- A thrilling narrative account of my weekend trip to Vermont, including snowshoeing with my sister, eating amazing food, and finally visiting two people's houses whom I've been promising to visit ever since they bought said houses.
- A rant about how amazing my sister's cooking is.
- My thoughts on that thing I am doing tomorrow that I haven't yet decided whether I want to talk about on my blog or not.
- A story about that night last week when I got paid to talk about bras, and how I spent my bra money on a deep fryer so I could make sweet potato fries.
- An anecdote about my quirky gastro-intestinal system that amuses me but would probably just gross everybody else out.
- Free verse emo poetry about Valentine's Day and how I am not upset to be working tomorrow night until 11:30 pm doing the retail turn (except that it means I will need to tape Lost).
- All of the above, except in list form, so I don't have to think too hard, and so I don't have to choose.
I bet you can guess which one I went with...
Thursday, February 01, 2007
A Non-Political Post
I haven't been very political lately. When I started this blog, I occasionally went on feminist or socialist rants, but lately, it's been much more of a "this is what I've been doing lately" blog. Some days, I feel like I should be saying something more important, but frankly, the internet is full of people with opinions, and only one person living my life. Not that my life is anything extraordinary, but one of the greatest compliments I have ever received on my blog was being told that it was like being in the room with a good friend. So, I guess I don't blog to be heard so much as to connect. And when I go through dryish spells like I have been on lately, I don't miss the exposition as much as the connection. So, I might not have anything deep to say, but here I am, saying it.
I've noticed that I go through cycles in my thinking, which reflects in my writing. Not too long ago, I went through a very introspective phase, and blogged a lot about internal issues. Quite a while before that, I went through a political phase, and every item in my news feeds seemed to spark some kind of political rant (be grateful that I only wrote a fraction of them down.) Since then, I have actually deleted all my news feeds, because I found myself not caring about what I was reading, let alone being inspired to write about them. And today, when at least four people on my blogroll wrote about the Mooninite bomb scare, I just kindof shrugged my shoulders, unsurprised and not inspired to rant in the least. I already knew America was stupidly paranoid. Sure, there are days when, although you already knew the sky was blue, the sheer, beautiful, blue, brilliance of a certain day's sky inspires you to write about it. But not today. The sky is actually kindof gray today. Don't worry, though, my political junkie friends, I'm sure I will cycle back through my political ire phase again at some point.
Until then, here is a brief housekeeping note and a pointless anecdote.
I've been getting a lot of spam comments on this blog lately. In and of themselves, they aren't all that annoying, but when I check my inbox and see that seven people commented on my blog, it gets my hopes up, and I feel loved, and I get all excited to see what people said, and then it's such a let down to discover that, no, in fact, seven robots spammed my blog, attempting to incite my readers to purchase cialis or viagra. It's also just plain tedious to go through and delete them. So, I've turned on word verification, which I realize is extremely annoying, but it's better than not allowing anonymous comments, because I know some of my readers don't have blogs of their own, and I am such a comment junkie that I would like to make it possible for the greatest number of non-robot people to give me feedback on what they have read. Stupid robots don't even click on my ads.
So, Kate recently blogged about her new schedule, which includes working out every day except Sunday, and how she did Tae-Bo as part of this new schedule. And it almost inspired me to start a workout schedule of my own. Almost, but not quite. Because I have gotten quite wary of new regimes for my life. I'm an excellent self-motivator if, say, someone else is paying me or grading me on the results of my motivation. But I am terrible at things like self-imposed fitness regimes. New year's resolutions for me usually last about a month, and the last time I tried to read the Bible in a year, I think I kept it up for about three months (which was probably a record for me, actually). That rule of thumb that doing something for three weeks makes it a habit? Not true.
Last year, I decided to set myself a short enough timeline for a fitness regime that I might actually carry it through to completion. Forty days of exercising every day - nothing elaborate, just something every day. Forty days is nothing, right? I could do that. I think I lasted two weeks. Perhaps part of my problem is that I am an all-or-nothing sort of person, so if I miss one day, I throw in the towel completely, rather than simply getting back in the groove the next day. But that's a rant for another day, when I am in a more introspective blogging mood. I promised a pointless anecdote.
I woke up this morning, and I saw my Tae-Bo DVD sitting on the coffee table, and I thought of Kate and her fitness regime, and I decided to start a fitness regime of my own that I knew I could follow through. I decided to put in the DVD, and do the workout. Once. Every day, for one entire day. And I did it, and it felt good, and now I'm going to go celebrate with a shower.
I've noticed that I go through cycles in my thinking, which reflects in my writing. Not too long ago, I went through a very introspective phase, and blogged a lot about internal issues. Quite a while before that, I went through a political phase, and every item in my news feeds seemed to spark some kind of political rant (be grateful that I only wrote a fraction of them down.) Since then, I have actually deleted all my news feeds, because I found myself not caring about what I was reading, let alone being inspired to write about them. And today, when at least four people on my blogroll wrote about the Mooninite bomb scare, I just kindof shrugged my shoulders, unsurprised and not inspired to rant in the least. I already knew America was stupidly paranoid. Sure, there are days when, although you already knew the sky was blue, the sheer, beautiful, blue, brilliance of a certain day's sky inspires you to write about it. But not today. The sky is actually kindof gray today. Don't worry, though, my political junkie friends, I'm sure I will cycle back through my political ire phase again at some point.
Until then, here is a brief housekeeping note and a pointless anecdote.
I've been getting a lot of spam comments on this blog lately. In and of themselves, they aren't all that annoying, but when I check my inbox and see that seven people commented on my blog, it gets my hopes up, and I feel loved, and I get all excited to see what people said, and then it's such a let down to discover that, no, in fact, seven robots spammed my blog, attempting to incite my readers to purchase cialis or viagra. It's also just plain tedious to go through and delete them. So, I've turned on word verification, which I realize is extremely annoying, but it's better than not allowing anonymous comments, because I know some of my readers don't have blogs of their own, and I am such a comment junkie that I would like to make it possible for the greatest number of non-robot people to give me feedback on what they have read. Stupid robots don't even click on my ads.
So, Kate recently blogged about her new schedule, which includes working out every day except Sunday, and how she did Tae-Bo as part of this new schedule. And it almost inspired me to start a workout schedule of my own. Almost, but not quite. Because I have gotten quite wary of new regimes for my life. I'm an excellent self-motivator if, say, someone else is paying me or grading me on the results of my motivation. But I am terrible at things like self-imposed fitness regimes. New year's resolutions for me usually last about a month, and the last time I tried to read the Bible in a year, I think I kept it up for about three months (which was probably a record for me, actually). That rule of thumb that doing something for three weeks makes it a habit? Not true.
Last year, I decided to set myself a short enough timeline for a fitness regime that I might actually carry it through to completion. Forty days of exercising every day - nothing elaborate, just something every day. Forty days is nothing, right? I could do that. I think I lasted two weeks. Perhaps part of my problem is that I am an all-or-nothing sort of person, so if I miss one day, I throw in the towel completely, rather than simply getting back in the groove the next day. But that's a rant for another day, when I am in a more introspective blogging mood. I promised a pointless anecdote.
I woke up this morning, and I saw my Tae-Bo DVD sitting on the coffee table, and I thought of Kate and her fitness regime, and I decided to start a fitness regime of my own that I knew I could follow through. I decided to put in the DVD, and do the workout. Once. Every day, for one entire day. And I did it, and it felt good, and now I'm going to go celebrate with a shower.
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