I Like Tomatoes

Toe-mah-toes.
Toe-may-toes.
Toe-may-ter.

I like 'em.

Today one of my clients brought me tomatoes! I was so happy! If I could have all my tips in garden-grown vegetables and fruits, I would!

(If I could end all my sentences with exclamation points I would!!!)

I made a sandwich. I would have taken a picture, but I forgot. I'll describe it: I picked up some Sourdough-Corn-Rye bread baked at Ninth Street Bakery in Durham and some mild Wisconsin cheddar at Whole Foods. I toasted my bread lightly, then spread a layer of mayo (a thick layer because I love me some mayonnaise), placed a few slices of cheese, a layer of butter lettuce, and then I added slices of my lovely tomato to finish it off.

Then I ate it and all was right in my world.
*ahhh*

Then Sweet Tea licked my plate clean and all was right in her world.
*ahhh*

And that's that.

Songs

I can't get enough of Ingrid Michaelson.

Therefore I will share with you.






I hope you like them too!
(And if you don't I'll talk about baseball someday. Because people who don't like Ingrid must like baseball right? I'm so logical.)

Food for Thought

It's easy to live in a bubble.

At least it's easy for me to live in a bubble. I'm trucking along, taking care of my business, going to work, drinking some coffee, stealing our neighbor's internets (don't worry, they know all about us), driving my car, going to the library; when

*BAM*

it hits me. 

What hits me?

Um, life. Purpose. Things I'm doing that are impacting the world around me. Our earth. Our citizens. Our lives.

Or even scarier....things I'm doing that AREN'T impacting the world around me.

Even if I'm not doing something negative, if I'm doing nothing at all with any kind of purpose-what does that say about me?

We could delve into this for days. I'm not so sure I want to go there right now...sorry.

So, I'm thinking about food. Try not to be shocked.

Where does my food come from?
Well, the Kroger on Hillsborough Road in Durham, NC.

Yes, but who grew it? What were they paid? Where was it planted? How was it planted? How was it fertilized?
Ummm...well, I guess I don't know.

So basically, what I'm saying is that I have no idea where my food came from.
Super.

It's just something I've been thinking about. I watched Super Size Me on Hulu the other day. Nuts. I'm so thankful that fast food is not a major part of my life. Ugh. Ew. Bleh. (And yes, I am perfectly aware that this movie came out six years ago and I hadn't watched it until last week. Just wait until I watch Food, Inc in five years and I tell you how grateful I am that I gave up eating meat. Ha!)

On the other hand, I don't actually believe that our organic food regulations are completely sound either. I'm more interested in the locally grown produce and products vs. organic/inorganic.

OK, I'm done for now. I'll stop talking about food, but here's a video on Ethical Eating which was on PBS the other day. It also has some Duke Divvies, so that's how I heard about it.

What do you think? Is it important or not so much?

An Homage

We said goodbye to Molasses yesterday.

It was a sad day in this kitty house-hold.

As you may remember, there was no love lost between Sassy Molassy and myself. That one time when he peed on my laundry. Or when he ate the cushions off my headphones...three times. Or him jumping on the counters. Or running out the front door when my arms were full of groceries.

Hopefully, he's grown past his kitten-antics wherever his spirit is now. Either that or they have more patience than I posses.

That said there were plenty of other fun times. Cuddling in bed. Chasing the laser light. (He chased; MG, Megan or I operated the light.) Playing with the other kitties. Pouncing on his chicken. Carrying around toys begging anyone or any of the other cats to play with him. Laying outside the bathroom in the anticipation of you coming out. Watching me bake from atop his stool.

Oh, Mo, you will be missed here at the 915.

Iced Java

I kinda have this thing for coffee. And coffee shops.

I don't know if you knew.

Anyways, a couple of weeks ago I was looking at my budget and I realized that I also spend an obscene amount of money on coffee. Obscene. Like probably over $20 a week. Which is over $80 a month. Which is over $960 a year. Which is close to $1000.

I don't know about your life, but in mine one thousand dollars is a lot of money. A lot of money indeed.

So, I have determined that I must cut back. I must be strong. I must because that much money on coffee is ridiculous.

Although I can walk through the doors and the baristas get my drink prepared without me asking for my iced, skim, sugar-free caramel latte that doesn't mean that I need to go every day. Or even five days a week. I could cut back to three. I can do that.

Therefore, I will make iced coffee for the summer. It's easy. It's delicious. It's cheap.

First, I'm going to start with a simple syrup. Simple syrup is made for cold beverages. Because regular sugar and cold beverages don't mix.

Remember that wah-nilla bean from my vanilla bean buttercream? I saved it. There was a lot of flavor left! I stuck it in a baggie with one cup of plain, white sugar. It sat there for 3 weeks. Then I decided to use it.

See all those floaty bits? They're the deliciousness of wah-nilla.

Simple syrup is a one to one ratio of sugar to water.

The recipe:
1 cup sugar
1 cup water

Boil until all the sugar is dissolved. Pour into a container. Use in your iced coffee. So easy-peasy.

I did strain out the big bits. No one likes chunky coffee.

Now for the iced coffee. I don't actually like iced coffee from most coffee shops. They usually do a double-strength brew and then get it cold and it's just waaaaaaaaaay too bitter for me. I have delicate taste buds. This recipe is for a cold-pressed iced coffee from over at Smitten Kitchen, my prep is a little different, but her prep is more multi-tasking equipment friendly.

Here's how I roll:

Two-thirds a cup of ground coffee beans. If you're me you grind your own on your roommate's fancy coffee equipment.

These beans are from Hawaii.

Three cups of water. If you want to go all out, use some filtered H2O, but mine's straight from the tap. Thank you, Durham.

I put it all in my french press and let it sit overnight.

The next morning I push it down to strain out the coffee grounds, pour my coffee over ice, add some half-n-half and my vanilla simple syrup.

I probably saved myself $3. 50 today.

That's a savings of $17.50 for the week...$70 for the month and $840 for the year. If I make this every day. Which I probably won't.

BUT, I could do it for the summer. Or even 50% of the time. Then I'd still save myself some moolah.

Try it out! Let me know what you think.

Mmmmmm....coffee.

Conner Prairie

You know what's a difficult word to spell? Prairie. I spell it wrong every time.

EVERY TIME.

Therefore, I am thankful for spell check.

Have you ever been to a live history museum? I hadn't before my visit to Conner Prairie in Fishers, Indiana. It's right north of Indianapolis if you're checking your map.

My friend Rach McF works there. She's a performer. Not too long ago her character was arguing against-that's right AGAINST-the woman's right to vote. That's why it's called acting, people. Because Rach McF totally believes in the power of women.

So, she goes to work and wears her costume. Down to the undergarments, she is authentically stuck in the 19th century.

What a hat. 

When Sarah and I visited she was talking up her uncle's flights in a hot air balloon.

She also was talking about communication via the telegraph and Morse code. Of course she has memorized the Morse code alphabet and she and her friend write ridiculous stories and translate them with one another.

There's lots to see and do at Conner Praire.

Dipping candles.

Bearded goat. It takes a strong lady to be this proud with that beard and then those two dangly bits hanging off her neck.

A fat donkey. Make the joke, I did.

Weaving! They take the raw wool, spin it, dye it and then weave it to make rugs, blankets, etc.

Awesome.

Then we went here.

Prairietown.

Let me tell you, I'm no picture of compete social perfection, but this place made me feel weird. These people are wandering around and sewing and working in their gardens and they're in character all the time.

Do you know how awkward it is to have a conversation with someone who pretends to be a servant in a house in 1836? How about when you talk to a woman who only wants to talk to you about the education of women? Umm...yes, I agree? What do you want me to say? I don't know!?!?! I feel uncomfortable.

It's a boarding house. They told us that if we were looking to rent a room, they were already full. Umm...OK? But what if we had demanded a room? Are we-the guests at the museum-supposed to play along and pretend like we're in 1836 too? I think it's rude to just walk around a strangers house, but that's what you're supposed to do.

I think I might have lost a little of my ability to pretend.

I think kids would LOVE it though. It's fun! It's learning! It's different from most other experiences!

Then we left and I returned to 2010. Here in 2010, I can feel normal (mostly) again.