Sunday, December 18, 2011

I just don't want to eat anymore

In the last week, I have eaten enough food to sustain three average Americans.

Work has been a parade of sugar.  I have been too tired to cook, so I have been fast-fooding it.  Last night was my mother's birthday, and we went out to dinner.  I had a slab of prime rib that was far too big for one person.  Finished it, and a cupcake afterwards.  Today, I was experimenting with pie-in-a-jar recipes, because I'm teaching a food-themed camp next week and I wanted to figure out if it was easy enough for kids to do.  It is, and it's delicious.

I feel gross, however.  I really don't like the idea of eating more food this week.

Tomorrow the roommate is having people over, and I promised I'd make my Eye of Newt.  I'm not making food with the kids tomorrow, we're going to discuss food safety and then go play games.

Tuesday is apple-butter day at camp, so I can avoid eating things there.  I'm not eating apple butter straight.  I will probably eat a lot of peelings, though.  I like peelings.  Later, I'm going to dinner at a coworker's house.  There will be an embarrassment of food.

Wednesday is Pie-in-a-jar day at camp.  I have no food related events to attend on Wednesday.

Thursday is Ladies Night at a seafood place.  Not only will I eat, I will probably drink, too.  And it's s'mores day at camp.

Friday is a non-food-event day.

Saturday is dinner at Mom's house, with more prime rib.  It's great, but uuuuuugh.

Sunday is all-day food at my brother's house.  It's great, but uuuuuuugh.

Thank gods that I do not have leftover problems.  All the holiday food is staying far away from my house.

I really don't like how I feel right now.  I kind of want to do a juice cleanse, for no other reason than it doesn't involve heavy digesting.  I have a coupon for one from the local raw-organic-nosugar-nogluten-hippiedippy juice place.  Three days of green shit in a bottle?  Sounds pretty frickin good.

The pie-in-a-jar is really quite special, though.  Here's the test run.  It's not technically pie, it's a crumble, crust is a pain in the ass.  Pie is easier to say than it is to make.  Crumble is easier to make than it is to say.
How to do this:

Peel and dice an apple.  Mix it with a squeeze of lemon juice and a tablespoon of sugar.  Throw in some cinnamon, if you're feeling that way.  In a different bowl, combine a cup of rolled oats, a cup of brown sugar, 3/4 of a cup of flour, a half teaspoon of salt, and a half teaspoon of cinnamon.  Cut up a stick of cold butter into tiny bits, and then mix it into the dry goods with your fingers until it looks like damp sand.  Stick the apple into a wide mouth half pint jar, and cover it with the damp sand stuff.  Put the lid on the jar, and stick it in the freezer.  The damp sand recipe makes a ton of topping, so make many pie jars.  I used about a quarter cup of topping per jar.  

To cook your pie-in-a-jar:

Take the lid off the frozen pie jar.  Put the jar on a baking sheet to catch possible drips.  Put it in a cold oven.  Turn the oven to 375.  Once it hits 375, let it cook for 40 minutes.  Eat it right out of the jar, with whipped cream or ice cream or whatever spins your wheels.

If you don't like apples, you can use any sort of pie fruit.  It's a cup of fruit to a teaspoon of sugar and a teaspoon of flour per jar.  Apples need more sugar and no flour because they're kind of dry.  Super juicy fruit might need a teaspoon and a half of flour, and you can adjust the sugar to taste.  Make a bunch of pies.  Use frozen fruit if you want.  Make a whole slew of tiny pies.  I have a freezer full of emergency desserts ready to rock.  Unexpected visitors?  PIE.  Shitty day at work?  PIE.  Need a last-minute thing to take to a party?  MANY PIES.

Go forth.  Play in the kitchen.  It's criminally easy.  I'm making five-year-olds do it later this week.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Comfort and Joy

So, this month we're supposed to talk about how we take care of ourselves.

I'm not sure I've ever thought about this before.  I just sort of go about my day.  

If I'm having a shitty day, and I want to make myself feel better, I'll cook one of my stock dishes.  

Something Green in a Red Sauce.  Not shown:  Pasta

Mustard Beer Beef Stew.  Not shown:  crusty bread

Vegetable Orgy.  Not shown:  Debauchery

Things never captured on camera: 

Eye of Newt (basically, Chicken A La King minus the butter, to be served with biscuits, it's unbelievable)

Sweet Potato Taco Base (cubed steamed sweet potatoes tossed with cumin, black beans, corn, and chicken, to be served with salsa, cheese, sour cream, and jalapenos, also unbelievable)

My roommate is Syrian, and sometimes I come home to this.

The hummus fairy strikes again.  She decorates mine with onions.

On a less gustatory note, I am a fan of the pedicure.  I used to be a fan of gettin my nails did, but my favorite tech moved to Texas and I'm still not finished mourning.  She was that good.  Now I just look at my hands in despair.

90% of my wardrobe is comfortable enough to fall asleep on the couch in.

My dog is rather huggable, so that's sort of a comforting thing.  I have flannel sheets and a space heater, so that's pretty comforting.

Honestly?  I think I treat myself pretty well all the time.  I don't let myself get worked up all that often, I don't generally have a stressful job, and I don't beat myself up over much.  I don't usually need to actively unwind, because I'm usually already unwound.  There are times when I overdo it, and need a vacation, but it's rare.  I think I'm probably in the minority here.

Perhaps I should go for a massage.  Ramp it up.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Yule came early this year.

I work at a nature center.  We wear staff tee-shirts (the last place I worked had polos, so I'm not complaining, at least a tee-shirt can be girlified).

Most of those shirts are shades of green and brown.  I have nothing against green and brown, except I don't generally.... you know... wear them.  Mixed into this pile of earthtones are some harvest orange shirts (not a cute color on me), some light blue shirts (stains, yo), a few navy ones (nominally acceptable), a teal one (super flattering color, but I only have one), and a pink tie-dyed one that was a sample from the printers, because I'm the only one in the office who will wear pink.

I have been lobbying for black tee shirts for the six years I have been at the nature center.  Or at least grey.  Come on, grey is a natural color.

Today, a  magic box arrived for the store manager.  What did it contain?

Black work shirts.

AND charcoal grey ones.

AND girly pink ones.

I almost passed out from glee.  I got a black one free, and I'm seriously considering buying a new work wardrobe of blackgreypink and retiring my earthtones.

I am currently painting over the white silkscreen logo on my beautiful black shirt with glittery holographic paint.  Glittery black work shirt.


Monday, December 5, 2011

30xSomeoneElse's40, and feeling snazzy

So, I'm climbing on LeProfesseurGothique's healthy bandwagon, because there is more of me than is comfortable to carry and not enough muscles to carry it all with.  My eating habits today have been rubbish.  RUBBISH.  I ate ALL the chicken masala and ALL the palak paneer and SEVERAL pieces of naan and I had onion rings at lunch, but I'm still feeling okay about life.

I did it all knowing exactly why I was doing it.  I'm having an exuberant, abundant sort of day.


I am poor.  Not in the absolutest sense, because I have a nice place to live, and a nice car, and a smartphone, and enough food on my plate.  I am poor in the sense that I have $30 in my checking account the day before payday.  I coast into payday on fumes.  I also have animals who have fantastically strange and expensive ailments, and this has put me in debt to my mother, who (bless her) has been financing my vet trips for the last 6 months.

My computer, while trusty, is nearing the end of it's useful life.  I bought it in 2005, and I've already replaced the hard drive once.  It can't be updated anymore, because nobody is running my OS, and I can't update my OS because my processor is antiquated.  It sputters.  It coughs.  It's old, and it might be time to retire before it croaks and makes the decision for me.  Not that I can afford a new computer.  Poor, remember?

Cash-poor, but I have a mother with a powerful packrat gene.  She convinced me to buy bonds on my 16th birthday, and upon graduating from college.  I had money back then.  Little rainy-day funds.

She turned to me the other day and said "I think it's raining."

By Jove, I think she's right.  So I cashed one.  AND I got paid today.   So that's sort of exciting.  I'm going to pay my rent and a few bills, and make my final car payment, and my Roth IRA contribution, and repay my vet bill debt, and then....

Then I have spending cash.  Intoxicating, intoxicating abundance.

I'm going to take the dog to the eye specialist for a checkup (she's got an eye thing).

I'm going to have her teeth cleaned (she has a stank-breath thing).

I'm going to buy a new computer, and not have to wonder what that burning smell is every time I try to watch a video.

I'm going to buy a few Giftmas presents (oh, how I like mailing presents).

And then?

Well, I'll probably squirrel the rest of it away again, for a future rainy day.

But first, I'm going to eat $26 worth of Indian food and not feel an iota of guilt.

Such abundance.  So exuberant about it.  And I have tikka masala on my hoodie.  Don't care.  Don't care.