I love soups of all kinds. Even the poo-ish looking lentil/bean soup that films over in the cute deli around the corner, because no one wants to eat the poo soup. But its delicious, just like every other soup in the world.
I'm no foodie really, and I'm not ashamed to admit my love of soup extends happily to my grocers canned goods isle, where I stock up on my favorite Campbells delectables. Sorry Progresso, I can't stand your tinny aftertaste. Today is the first real day of Northern Virginia fall, so I decided to pop a Chicken Corn Chowder in the microwave and enjoy the slightly sweetened goodness.
Except there was no goodness! Only squishy bits of chicken fat and a broth so thin and bitter I spit it out immediately. Whats all this??? Campbells, you've failed me. I checked the expiration date, no problems there. I checked my microwave setting, seems to be in working order. I reread the heating instructions and confirmed they were properly followed. What gives?
Determined to have my cozy meal, I go for soup number two. A delightful variety of Campbells Turkey Pot Pie. But again, no delight was to be had! Only a twisted up bad-food taste face and a slight mess in my microwave from all the popping. Ugh. I need soup!
Now I don't know how to proceed. I have my heart set on something rich and (dare I say the word...oh, forgive me) creamy. I thought about making a variety of my own soup/hearty warm fall dish, but alas, I've no milk, and they all require it. And I'm not wearing pants so I can't just run to the store. Clearly an insurmountably obstacle.
Now you may just say, why are you even concerned about lunch food, its only 11:20 am. You've barely just had breakfast, fatty. But you don't understand! I just came from 4 days of visiting my family in Indiana and all we did was eat and talk, as is custom. My stomach became quite used to hourly feedings and now I'm suffering the first twinges of American-style hunger pangs, which, naturally, are nothing like rest-of-the-world hunger pangs. So dissimilar, in fact, I almost feel guilty making light of it, really. Too much trouble to erase now though! Whats done is done.
So I guess I'll go have some peanut butter on crackers, as I also don't have any bread. My palate, it suffers.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Cleanliness is next to...uh...
I was always at least mildly interested in school growing up, however one particular subject consistently fascinated and motivated me to continue studying and learning: me. Ah vanity, you are a wiley minx. So, yes, big surprise, the blogger likes to think about herself. I do not believe this will come as a particular shocker to anyone.
My recent academic pursuits on the subject revealed a startling discovery that may change the way I face my mornings. Let it be said that I was never a morning person. Growing up with a twin sister, I was the one most often characterized as lazy, while she was the one my mom would suggest running laps around the outside of the house. While pushing a wheelbarrow of bricks. In knee deep mud. She just had a lot of energy to burn. Naturally then, I always found myself the last to wake up of the pair- a trait I've regrettably inherited from my father who is a class A world champion sleeper. And a great dad, I might add.
The last few days I've been SO TIRED in the morning, much more so than usual, and I've been spending half the morning hours rubbing my eyes, drooling on my shirt and trying in vain to convince my neck muscles to hold my head upright. Yes, its true, I am a newborn.
I realized this morning though that the last few days I have also been showering at night. In my mind this save leagues of time in the morning rush, however, with the new evidence at hand I believe my logic is faulty. I went through the whole age regression song and dance this morning and then at 10 am decided to hop back in the shower to liven up, and wonder of all wonders I am now quite refreshed! And zestfully clean! My day has finally begun!
So now we know, the cure for excessive drooling and lack of motor skills is....water.
My recent academic pursuits on the subject revealed a startling discovery that may change the way I face my mornings. Let it be said that I was never a morning person. Growing up with a twin sister, I was the one most often characterized as lazy, while she was the one my mom would suggest running laps around the outside of the house. While pushing a wheelbarrow of bricks. In knee deep mud. She just had a lot of energy to burn. Naturally then, I always found myself the last to wake up of the pair- a trait I've regrettably inherited from my father who is a class A world champion sleeper. And a great dad, I might add.
The last few days I've been SO TIRED in the morning, much more so than usual, and I've been spending half the morning hours rubbing my eyes, drooling on my shirt and trying in vain to convince my neck muscles to hold my head upright. Yes, its true, I am a newborn.
I realized this morning though that the last few days I have also been showering at night. In my mind this save leagues of time in the morning rush, however, with the new evidence at hand I believe my logic is faulty. I went through the whole age regression song and dance this morning and then at 10 am decided to hop back in the shower to liven up, and wonder of all wonders I am now quite refreshed! And zestfully clean! My day has finally begun!
So now we know, the cure for excessive drooling and lack of motor skills is....water.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Julia Weeps
I've been steadily repeating to myself over the last week my new favorite guilt induced mantra, "I have not abandoned my blog...I have not abandoned my blog...I have not abandoned my blog.....Ooooohmmmm, Ooooooohmmmmm......I have not abandoned my blog...mother earth...I have not abandoned my blog....soy chips and carbon footprints...nuevo hippie jargon. And so forth and so on. I'm really a novice when it comes to mantra chanting.
I wasn't planning on posting today, but I guess my subconscious is tired of the self-induced and completely unnecessary guilt. You would think I was Catholic or something.
Anyway, religion notwithstanding, I just got back from a 3 mile "run" and am still feeling a bit on the jelly side. I'll have you know that the term "run" in my estimation means any activity greater than or equal to a forward motion performed on a treadmill. Take that as you will regarding my fitness level. I'm no Flo Jo.
After said run I decided some dinner was in order, as is customary in the mid-evening hours. I got all Julia Childlike and whipped up my favorite "healthy" dish of plain microwaved frozen chicken breast with a delicate honey dipping sauce on the side. My palate demands only the best. And I love microwaves. And I'm not much of a cook. Clearly.
The microwaving process has never been much of a challenge for me, as I passed 4th grade many years ago and thankfully grew some very handy opposable thumbs, so it is with a heavy heart that tonight, when the final score was tallied, the results were Me: 0, Microwave: 1. The 1 would stand for 1st degree burns. Note to all: do not, under any circumstances, "fiddle" with the plastic wrap covering your frozen chicken at any point after you've started the food cooking process. There's steam in there. Evil, wretched steam. Burney burney steam.
Now, as the blisters are no doubtedly setting in on my pulsing left hand, I must away to tend to my (completely preventable) wounds. And then I will start the paperwork for the Me v. Frozen Chicken lawsuit. How many innocent knuckles must twinge before something is done!?! Justice will be served! Victory will be mine! All you need is love!
Uh...how'd that last one get in there...
I wasn't planning on posting today, but I guess my subconscious is tired of the self-induced and completely unnecessary guilt. You would think I was Catholic or something.
Anyway, religion notwithstanding, I just got back from a 3 mile "run" and am still feeling a bit on the jelly side. I'll have you know that the term "run" in my estimation means any activity greater than or equal to a forward motion performed on a treadmill. Take that as you will regarding my fitness level. I'm no Flo Jo.
After said run I decided some dinner was in order, as is customary in the mid-evening hours. I got all Julia Childlike and whipped up my favorite "healthy" dish of plain microwaved frozen chicken breast with a delicate honey dipping sauce on the side. My palate demands only the best. And I love microwaves. And I'm not much of a cook. Clearly.
The microwaving process has never been much of a challenge for me, as I passed 4th grade many years ago and thankfully grew some very handy opposable thumbs, so it is with a heavy heart that tonight, when the final score was tallied, the results were Me: 0, Microwave: 1. The 1 would stand for 1st degree burns. Note to all: do not, under any circumstances, "fiddle" with the plastic wrap covering your frozen chicken at any point after you've started the food cooking process. There's steam in there. Evil, wretched steam. Burney burney steam.
Now, as the blisters are no doubtedly setting in on my pulsing left hand, I must away to tend to my (completely preventable) wounds. And then I will start the paperwork for the Me v. Frozen Chicken lawsuit. How many innocent knuckles must twinge before something is done!?! Justice will be served! Victory will be mine! All you need is love!
Uh...how'd that last one get in there...
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Random Bits
Looks like I kinda fell off the blogging wagon there for a bit. I guess a week sans blog doesn't really qualify as "off the wagon" though. It's more like I was wrapped around the wheel, cartoon style, as the wagon made its way down a gravel path strewn with detritus of all kinds. But I have found my way back (!) and am now sitting comfortably on a haystack enjoying the view...covered in gravel and detritus, naturally. There are no showers on a wagon. Especially a metaphorical blogging wagon.
There really hasn't been much to blog about lately, and I didn't want to just ramble on about nothing in particular. Heh. As though I don't just ramble anyway.
I've taken a few weeks off from posting about More to Love, and I think I've waited a reasonable amount of time to curb any sort of obsession rumors that may be floating around. At this point in the show, there are only 3 (THREE!) ladies left in the man hunt, and I am SHOCKED with the selection. First of all, and trust me, this isn't the shocking part, Luke had decided to keep the four (as of the prior week) thinnest women on the show. One of the women doesn't even appear to have a weight problem. She's just cute. AND she's a fitness trainer! I'm calling a foul on that one. The shocking part in all of this is that the remaining women have not once even considered (or the producers edited out their consideration) that Luke may not be right for THEM. Ugh. I overlooked this in the beginning because you don't really need to life-screen a first date, but things are getting serious gals, and as much as I support Fox's portrayal of the people on this show, I would really hate for the final message to be a resounding, "Take what you can get, fatty!"
Ahem, moving on. I'm prayerfully considering buying a new bed. Does anyone have any thoughts on that? The one I have now is a hot mess. I've had it since senior year of college and it's really seemed to lost its will to live. Most annoyingly, the metal frame is stuck in the temperamental toddler years and can't make up its mind if it wants to stay in an upright and locked position or if it wants to randomly and without warning fall apart. Before you get any ideas, I assure you that there hasn't been any "vigorous use" issues that could account for such unusual bed frame behavior. Even the slightest movement threatens to upset the delicate balance and one time, I kid you not, my bed dropped an inch and a half after a small cough. Additionally, the mattress is lumpy and mounds up in the middle. No me gusta. So, Cheapy McGee over here has to throw down some funds for a new bed. Boooo.
Finally, I tried to hang some art work on my living room wall over the weekend only to find out that my living room wall is made of f-ing concrete. Instead of artwork, I have a really nice hole in the paint about 2/3 of the way in. Very art deco.
There really hasn't been much to blog about lately, and I didn't want to just ramble on about nothing in particular. Heh. As though I don't just ramble anyway.
I've taken a few weeks off from posting about More to Love, and I think I've waited a reasonable amount of time to curb any sort of obsession rumors that may be floating around. At this point in the show, there are only 3 (THREE!) ladies left in the man hunt, and I am SHOCKED with the selection. First of all, and trust me, this isn't the shocking part, Luke had decided to keep the four (as of the prior week) thinnest women on the show. One of the women doesn't even appear to have a weight problem. She's just cute. AND she's a fitness trainer! I'm calling a foul on that one. The shocking part in all of this is that the remaining women have not once even considered (or the producers edited out their consideration) that Luke may not be right for THEM. Ugh. I overlooked this in the beginning because you don't really need to life-screen a first date, but things are getting serious gals, and as much as I support Fox's portrayal of the people on this show, I would really hate for the final message to be a resounding, "Take what you can get, fatty!"
Ahem, moving on. I'm prayerfully considering buying a new bed. Does anyone have any thoughts on that? The one I have now is a hot mess. I've had it since senior year of college and it's really seemed to lost its will to live. Most annoyingly, the metal frame is stuck in the temperamental toddler years and can't make up its mind if it wants to stay in an upright and locked position or if it wants to randomly and without warning fall apart. Before you get any ideas, I assure you that there hasn't been any "vigorous use" issues that could account for such unusual bed frame behavior. Even the slightest movement threatens to upset the delicate balance and one time, I kid you not, my bed dropped an inch and a half after a small cough. Additionally, the mattress is lumpy and mounds up in the middle. No me gusta. So, Cheapy McGee over here has to throw down some funds for a new bed. Boooo.
Finally, I tried to hang some art work on my living room wall over the weekend only to find out that my living room wall is made of f-ing concrete. Instead of artwork, I have a really nice hole in the paint about 2/3 of the way in. Very art deco.
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