Who Likes Azaleas?

Sorry it's been awhile. I've had a lot on my mind.

This corner of the world is home to the North American headquarters of NATO, seeing as how we are also home to the largest military complex in the world. Every year, the nice NATO people put on a big party, in the form of the International Azalea Festival, in which one of the NATO countries is highlighted and honored. There is also a queen, some lovely young woman from the honored country. In years gone by, she was traditionally the daughter (and not always so lovely) of some important dignitary, but of late, they have selected any ol' Sally Sue. As long as she has some accomplishments under her belt, she is fair game. This year, the comely queen came to the Home to see our kids. Here is the story from our own blog.

Anyway, the Festival is timed to coincide with the height of azalea season here. We have azaleas here. LOTS of azaleas. Everywhere you look are azaleas. If you are willing to put up with shrubbery ("Bring me a shrubbery!" Movie reference - Sista G & BS can't play) that is ugly & scraggly & brown for most of the year, for about a month in the spring you will be rewarded with a riot of color that is unmatched by anything you will see. You can't step out your front door without tripping into them. Seriously. C'mon denizens of the southeast, back me up here.

In fact, unless your yard is full of them, your neighbors will likely drop broad hints that you pack up your bratwurst & New England clam chowder and get your obvious Yankee ass back up Nawth where it belongs. Only they will be ever so polite & genteel about it.

So I decided to step out my front door and stumble over my own to give you a little peek at what I am talking about here. All taken with my point-&-shoot set on 'auto' (hear that Russ?)

Front of the house:

Back of the house:

Side:

Swamp:

See what I mean? And my yard is not unusual. What is unusual is how much the blasted bushes need trimming. My neighbors tend to keep their bushes neatly trimmed.

HA! That sounds dirty.

Quotes Revisited

A ways back in this blog is a post titled "Quotes". I feel the need to revisit those quotes just now. If you don't feel like clicking and reading it, I'll review it.

"Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."
- Carl Bard

"Life is like a new car. Every once in a while you've got to find an open road and see what it will do."
- the "Life's Little Instruction Book" calendar, 12-25-08

Here's what I said about it then:

I came very close to doing this last year. I applied for and was offered a teaching position in Texas that I would have really really liked. I want to teach again so badly that sometimes I hate even the thought of going to work each day.

Don't misunderstand, I love the place that I work (you won't find one better), but I don't always love what I do there. What I do there is noble and honorable. I love the people I work with, I'm nuts about my kids, but I am a teacher at heart, and I miss it dreadfully.
Seriously.

To explain why I am not a teacher anymore would take more effort than I want to expend just now.

The job in Texas was soooooo very tempting. Just the kind of place I like - a small city with a big university. Rolling hills, friendly people, staff who really wanted to hire me. But it turned out that it wasn't the right . . . oh, I don't know . . . time? There were family considerations & a sucky real estate market, among other things. But I wanted to take it, oh so very much.

Just about every miserable, rotten thing that has ever happened to me has happened here, in this area.

Every now & then I look. The job is still open, and I wonder, "What if?" "Did I do the right thing?" "What if I just told them I changed my mind, packed it all up & started over?"

The open road calls me, beckoning like a seductive temptress, stroking my terminal case of wanderlust.

And here is my conundrum today: I haven't stopped looking at colleges throughout the country to see what's open. I confine my looking to areas where I have friends and/or family, since I don't want to go to a new area and not know anyone. So today, I was cruising through the colleges that I had bookmarked. To keep it simple, I look in Virginia, North Carolina, Illinois, Wisconsin, Texas, and California. With a couple odd ones here and there just because they sound like cool places to live.

I found one.

One that is close to both friends and family. I don't really know if it is a viable option, so tomorrow I will call. Sometimes, when a position comes open, the program knows that they will fill it with one of their adjuncts that wants to go full-time, but state laws being what they are, they have to advertise the position anyway.

The educational side of my profession is a small one. There are a limited number of programs per state, and usually 2-4 full-time faculty positions budgeted for each. So openings don't come along often. When they do, I can't ignore them.

So, if the opening is a 'real' one, I'll be stewing and chewing and considering all my pros & cons. I don't look forward to it. But I can't not consider it. Ya know?

Tortillas, Crepes, Torepes, or Cretillas? Oh, and Noodle Salad

Poor Rosie. I made her make some tortillas without the lard. I have never had nor will I ever have lard in my pantry. Not that I have anything against it in small quantities, on a rare occasion. Plus, I do know that lard makes tortillas and French fries taste positively heavenly. But if I am going to make these at home, no lard. Also, no Crisco, so Rosie looked at my bottle of peanut oil and bag of whole wheat flour with resigned patience.

Up first - tortilla-esque stuff.

I know, that's not my peanut oil, but the label on my bottle fell off, so it was unidentifiable. What looks like milk is really 1/2 milk (low-fat) and 1/2 water.

By the way - one thing you should know about me. If I am told I have to do something or do something a certain way, I am hell-bent to rebel and do it differently. What you're supposed to do is combine the dry ingredients then make a well in the center and work in the fat (ie, the lard) until it resembles crumbs, then add in the milk/water.

So, like, I totally didn't do that. No lard, so that method isn't going to work the same. I beat the milk/water with the oil & then added the dry stuff. Why? Because that's how I make pancakes, so that order comes naturally to me. I needed to add a bit more flour to make a nice, workable dough.

Kneaded it a few times, shaped it into a nice little balls . . .

. . . and threw them aside for while to "let them rest". Whatever that means. Actually, I think it means that it gives the flour a chance to soak up all the moisture and discover it's doughy destiny, so when you roll it out . . .

(forgive the cadaverous-looking hands - the lighting was weird) . . . they roll into nice rounds. I rolled them nice 'n' thin, so I would have thin tortillas to use as a sandwich wrap. Into the pan they go, and they fried up - oops, I meant cooked up Big Tim, really I did - pretty dang quick.

And here is the end product . . .

They were okay. Not a whole lot of flavor, but then there weren't any seasonings in them. Didn't have the lard deliciousness, but when wrapped around some sandwich goodness or cut into wedges and toasted with olive oil & garlic, they'll do. The edges were a little crispy, so I stacked them and put a damp paper towel on the top & bottom and put them in a plastic bag and tossed them in the fridge. The next morning, they were fine.

Part deux - crepes.

For this one, I used less egg and a little more flour, since regular crepes are very eggy. The batter went in the fridge overnight, I guess for the same reason the tortilla dough had to rest - gives the flour & the liquid time to 'get it on'.

For the first one, I put a little (very little, Big Tim) oil in the pan to cook it, but the finished crepe was too greasy, so I decided there was enough oil in the batter. Plus the fact that it was a non-stick pan. Yeah, no more oil.

After the flip . . .

Lovely crepes. And I liked the way they tasted better than the tortillas. I put them in the damp-paper-towel-bag with the tortillas so their slightly crispy edges would also soften. But they weren't quite what I was looking for either, so I will try again with even less egg. But doggie Dixie thought they were delicious and asked very nicely for some more.

Part Tres - Crunchy Noodle Salad

Now, that name does not sound very appetizing to me, and if that's all I knew of this dish, I would not want to make it, but I saw Ina Garten make it on her TV show, and I had to grab a kleenex to wipe the little bit of spittle that ran down my chin when I saw it. I made some modifications, though, since that rebellious streak means I rarely follow a recipe to the letter.

1. I wanted this to be more of a meal, so decided to add some roasted chicken. Rosie offered to roast one for me. And look! When she was cleaning it, she discovered it was pregnant, 'cause it had a baby!

2. No red peppers. Bell peppers do. not. agree with me, and I would have been miserable afterwards. I like the flavor of bell peppers, but they tear me up. The only thing I will go out of my way to eat that is chock-full of green peppers are my mother's sloppy joes. Momma? Are you listening?

3. Whole wheat angel hair noodles instead of white flour noodles.

4. I just thawed out the sugar snap peas and didn't cook them. I like them raw, and they helped put the 'crunchy' in our crunchy noodle salad.

5. Added the following: carrots, sliced mushrooms, seedless cucumber, the chicken, and cilantro instead of parsley. I love cilantro. I love it so much I want to marry cilantro. I have the gene, and BS has the gene, and the Hawthornes have the gene, because Rosie has it growing by the boatloads in her garden, earning her my eternal gratitude. Some of it was in bloom, and the bitty little flowers are also supposed to be edible. We preferred to pose them amidst their brethren and take pictures.

The supporting players in my noodle salad party are (I used teriyaki sauce instead of soy sauce since that's all I had):

This one? It's a keeper. Next time I make it, I will go buy some soy sauce to use instead of teriyaki. I think you need the little bit of extra saltiness. But it was excellent. And crunchy! And ever so good for you! :-)

In fact, it's now really the next day and I think I'll have some for lunch . . . . a few minutes later: it's even good cold from the fridge.

p.s. Big Tim, we went out and walked a mile after noodle salad lunch.

Poor Rosie, now she felt duty-bound to get some whole wheat noodles for our spaghetti tonight.

On my way to Maison de la Rosie

I like sandwiches. I love sandwiches. Maybe not as much as my brother, who will make a sandwich out of 2 French fries and a piece of cheese. I generally prefer bread with mine. When I was carrying BS, I had 3 major cravings, and sandwiches was one. Especially submarine sandwiches. I still crave submarine sandwiches.

The other 2 cravings were chewing ice and smelling car fumes. Gas, exhaust, a hot engine, they smelled wonderful to me. I didn't indulge that one very often, 'cause I think BS is somewhat normal. Somewhat.

I got sidetracked again.

Since I love sandwiches (and chips & dips), I thought about trying my hand with making some kind of thingie that I can use as a sandwich wrap or vehicle to convey delicious dip to my mouth. Tortillas can be heavy, and crepes are too fragile. Maybe something in-between? I've never made a tortilla before, but ooooooooo, I know someone who has. Since BS went to his old stomping grounds of Blacksburg for the weekend, I think I'll take a little trip too.

Aside - Rosie is one of my internet friends that I met in person a couple years ago when we found out that she lived not too far from me and knows my dad. Small world. So now we stalk each other, and she is a wonderful and inventive cook who loves to try new things. And when I visit her, she cooks for me. So, there is a method to my madness, eh?

Rosie will help me figure this out. **picks up phone & dials**

Me: Hey Rosie, it's Ticky (that's the online name she knows me by. Of course she also knows my real name, but if she mentions it, I'll have to kill her.)

Rosie: Ticky! I was just thinking about you and telling Mr Hawthorne how much I missed you.

Okay, she didn't really say that, close though. But the end result of the conversation was that I headed down her way today to experiment with tortilla-crepes, or torepes, or cretillas, or whatever.

Let me say this about coastal Virginia and North Carolina. It is lovely. Heavily treed, and the trees are interspersed with fertile farm fields (more 'f' words). And now the trees are every imaginable shade of green. Gorgeous. I even had to turn around for this particular Kodak moment:

Those are buttercups. Whole fields of buttercups. Oh my. (oh, and Russ - the point-and-shoot was set on 'automatic')


I also discovered that I chose to come on OBX Bike Week. And me without my black leather bustier. Dang. But I so want one of these. Sorry about the quality of these pictures. I took them from my car. While I was driving!

I know I'm almost there when this place comes into view. It means the bridge is just ahead.

Tortilla post and dinner to come.

Mutant, Alien Tulips

Every now & then, I will come across a flower at the hardware store that will make me risk exposing it to my black thumbs and plant it. I guess I shouldn't say my thumbs are black, because a lot of things that I plant do indeed grow. They just grow somewhat . . . . off. Weird. Crooked. Spastic. Twisted.

I planted these particular bulbs because the picture on the package was so pretty. They are parrot tulips, and this is what they are supposed to look like, same color too:

http://www.katinkamatson.com/prints/500/images/three_parrot_tulips.1024.jpg

Pretty, frilly, fringey. Aren't they nice?

But nooooooo, the ones I planted suffer from FUBAR Syndrome (F**ked Up Beyond All Recognition, and that's a real medical term). It didn't quite resemble the pretty picture when it writhed its way out of the ground.

In fact, when I first saw it, it scared me a little. I thought it was some mutant fungus or something. When BS saw it, he said "Little Shop of Horrors". This is what it looked like as a bud . . . .

. . . . Aaakkk! Then it opened, and it wasn't much better. Although its ugliness is starting to grow on me, and I think I'm becoming fond of the little guy. . . .

But then my yard, especially the back, has odd things growing everywhere. The back yard is part protected wetlands, and I can't touch them, so there's all sorts of cool stuff back there, and during a big storm, there's enough water to float a boat out to the river. This is the part I have to leave alone. . . .

I call it the swamp. Sometimes it stinks.

Feedjit Poll Results

Well, of the readers from the 197 American cities and the 76 foreign cities (as of 6:46 Tuesday 4-21-09), I got 7 votes about the presence of that seductive Feedjit tracker on my site. Yes, you see correctly. 7, as in seven, as in one more than 6 and one less then 8. Overwhelming, I know, but I'll see it at the 'one more than 6'.

Oh wait, many of those are NOT readers of my blog. Some stumbled here while looking for other, more libidinous pursuits.

Based on the statistically significant (not!) sampling, Feedjit stays and I can continue to feed my obsession, so I'll just have to put up with the kinky pains in my neck, maybe sitting with a more erect posture, whilst I satisfy my insatiable curiosity about who visits my site, however unintended that visit may be.

Next time I'll put up a poll about your favorite uses for jello.

Why the unrelated words in bold? I think I may get some interesting hits from the libidinous Googlers. I'll report back.

Eat This and DIE!

**WARNING**
You must have at least a minimal amount of common sense to continue. Click at your own risk!

Sometimes you find things that are so horrifying, you can't look away. You know you should, but the fascination of watching a train wreck unfold takes over. And you thought the Deep-Fried Butter Balls were bad? I envision Paula Deen huddling by candlelight in the korner of her kitchen thinking up new ways to kill us. When I see this next one, I wonder, "What was she smokin' when she thought of this one?" Because, seriously, I can't imagine anything much that will put you on the fast-track to being worm fodder, except maybe the butter balls. And no, this is NOT what we will be eating during our "Biggest Loser" shenanigans. (I'm going to try to embed my first video here. xx crosses fingers xx)



Don't that look goooood? (Forgive me, but that's the problem, it does.)
Oh, and her Krispy Kreme burger can be found here. "Don't look Ethel!!" (quick, what's that from?)

Almost enough to turn me into a vegetarian. Almost, but . . . no. But still, I'm going to go chew on some lettuce now.

Pancakes piled up til they reach the sky

The title of this post is from one of my favorite childhood memories, Mickey and the Beanstalk, and you can see the whole thing on YouTube.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

The song with the line about pancakes is in Part 1 at minute 5:45 (This is all for Sista G & Nana. They will appreciate it).

Oooh, and look what else I found whilst perusing Mickey, Peter & the Wolf, in 2 parts.

Tell me, really, what ISN'T on YouTube?

Anyway, back to the topic of pancakes. I told you I am easily distracted.

One of my favorite 4-letter 'f' words is food, and BS & I have the challenge of figuring out how to create really good-tasting food that accomplishes the main task of food - that is, to nourish us.

So, this morning, it was pancakes & syrup! Yay!!!!!!!

I hear a stunned silence from your end. You're thinking, "uh, yeah, right. Pancakes are diet food? Suuuuure." Au contraire, mes amis, my pancakes are packed with good things. Here's how it played out.

I didn't get around to having breakfast this morning, so noon rolls by and I start realizing that the vague hollow feeling inside is actually hunger. And waddaya know, BS is in the same boat. What I want to know is, if someone told me they forgot to eat, I would look at them in scorn. I would scoff at them. SCOFF, I tell you! But it happened, not only to me, but to both of us today. What are the odds?

So I go into the kitchen and see some reeeeeeally ripe bananas on the counter. What can I do with those bananas that will put bites of something in our maws as quickly as possible? 'Cause we're haungry! Muffins? Nope, they'll take too long. Wait, it's coming to me . . . . . . pancakes!

Beautiful, tender, tasty pancakes. Diet food? Totally, if eaten in moderation, and made with care. Moderation is the key to any lifestyle change that has any hope of lasting the rest of your life.

I start pulling things out and filling the counter, making it up as I went along. Pancakes really are stupidly easy to make. As long as you know roughly what proportion of dry stuff to mix with your wet stuff, you can have any kind of pancakes you want.

Aside - I have always made my own pancakes, and always with whole grains. The end product has a lovely brownish tint that you don't find in your usual Aunt Jemimas. But BS was used to them as he never got any other kind from me. When his little friends would come & spend the night, they would invariably want pancakes in the morning. No doubt the little friend was expecting fluffy white piles of starch that were a nutritional wasteland. When I would put the plate of brown pancakes in front of the eager little face, I would stand back and wait for the invariable look of horror. I was rarely disappointed.

Anyway, what ended up going into my blender were eggs, peanut oil, low-fat vanilla yogurt, more vanilla (vanilla is straight from heaven), a little wild honey, low-fat milk, a reeeeeally ripe banana, whole wheat flour, whole oat flour, the necessary leavenings, and . . . . .uh, I can't think of anything else.

No refined sugar, no white flour.

A quick spritz of spray on the non-stick griddle, and the drooling started.

Oops, I flipped that first one a bit too soon. BS decided to put a schmear of this on his, topped by a small drizzle of pure maple syrup:

"It contains no cholesterol, no trans-fats, no hydrogenated oils, and no high-fructose corn syrup. It is also gluten-free, vegan, and certified kosher pareve by the Orthodox Union"

And dark chocolate is health food, right? And just think of it - chocolate, peanut butter & banana pancakes. Be still, my heart. And don't they look good. (BTW, I only had 2, with no chocolate peanut butter. But I did have a bite of his. OMG!).

As I scraped the last bit of batter, some dripped from the spatula,

and when I flipped it, LOOK! It has a wee willie winkie. :-)

But now I have a big bag full of pancakes in the fridge, just ready for the toaster. Oh, and one more thing. Usually I mix up the pancakes in a bowl and use the blender for something else. We rarely have syrup on our pancakes. We have peach sauce - can of peaches (in juice), vanilla, and a bit of honey. Blitz it in the blender and it's better than syrup! But for some reason I used the blender for the batter, so it was not available for peach sauce. That made me sad.

And speaking of syrup, I don't care what kind of a diet you are on, I don't ever want to see this in your cupboard. If I do, there will be an awkward silence while I try to figure out a polite way to leave. Better to have a small amount of the real stuff than any amount of this bottle of chemicals. Who thought this would be a good thing? It is just wrong on so many levels. . .

So anyway, after breakfas . . . er . . . lunch, I went outside and had a happy 2 1/2 hours of mowing, sweeping, raking, edging, bagging, dragging, fixing the weed whacker, and mowing some more. And no, I did NOT use the lovely self-propelled feature on my mower. I pushed that bastard myself. And I have a hill.

Okay? I'm pooped.

Oh, one more thing ( I promise). For those of you who thought I was kidding about Paula Deen in my last post, I was totally serious. I give you her recipe for deep fried butter balls! Told ya. Makes me want one of these.

Reinventing Food

**Rambling post alert!!! Leave now if you know what's good for you!!!**

Part of the reinvention of myself, and now evidently BS as well, is being mindful of what we put in our bodies. Blah, blah blah, what a crock. Do you believe that? I know I don't even believe it myself, because I have seen the things that somehow magically appear in my pantry.

I didn't put them there, honest. BS. . .oops, King Hippo must have snuck 'em in when I wasn't looking. Yeah, that's it.

Do you ever wonder why people are hesitant to give their dogs junk food or put an off-brand of gasoline in their car, but yet their children will be chowing down on Fruit Loops as "part of a nutritious breakfast"? In what alternate universe does Fruit Loops provide any significant nutrition? See what their reaction would be if you told them, "You're out of dog food? That's okay, just give Fido a bowl of Fruit Loops." They would look at you as if you had snails sprouting from your ears. Don't want to give it to your dog? That's okay, just give it to your kids.

Oh, by the way, here are the ingredients for Fruit Loops (touted by Kellogg's as 'multi-grain') as found on their website:

SUGAR; CORN FLOUR; WHEAT FLOUR; OAT FLOUR; PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED VEGETABLE OIL (ONE OR MORE OF: COCONUT, COTTONSEED, AND SOYBEAN) †; SALT; SODIUM ASCORBATE AND ASCORBIC ACID (VITAMIN C); REDUCED IRON; NATURAL ORANGE, LEMON, CHERRY, RASPBERRY, BLUEBERRY, LIME, AND OTHER NATURAL FLAVORS; RED #40; BLUE #2; YELLOW #6; ZINC OXIDE; NIACINAMIDE; TURMERIC COLOR; BLUE #1; PYRIDOXINE HYDROCHLORIDE (VITAMIN B6); RIBOFLAVIN (VITAMIN B2); THIAMIN HYDROCHLORIDE (VITAMIN B1); VITAMIN A PALMITATE; ANNATTO COLOR; BHT (PRESERVATIVE); FOLIC ACID; VITAMIN D; VITAMIN B12.

Okay:

1. Saying something is 'multi-grain' is meaningless. Do you hear me, meaningless! Unless it specifically says "whole" in front of it, all it means is they took more than one type of flour and stripped them of every bit of goodness (the bran layer and the germ have all the goodies), and left you with nothing but the starch. Then they threw in a few vitamins to throw you off track. Helllllloooooo! I can get better vitamins from a small plastic bottle and eat a piece of cardboard for all the nutritional value that stuff has.
2. Partially hydrogenated oils are one of the worst things you can eat. They are even worse than butter, and that's not very far to go. They are a huge contributing factor in elevated blood cholesterol levels and chronic cardiovascular disease, and that's not just my opinion. For a more . . . uh, shall we say . . . one-sided opinion, look here. By the way, this includes Crisco, that staple of American pantries. Except mine, I like the butter ;-)
   

At least they didn't use high fructose corn syrup, which wreaks havoc with your blood glucose & insulin balance.

I didn't really mean to go on a rant here, but as long as I'm on a roll, I've got another gripe to get off my chest about the Food Network.

I like the Food Network. I like watching the Food Network. I have it on in the background quite frequently. I want to eat all that good-looking stuff. Here's one problem (out of many) with them and a general trend I am seeing a lot of lately.

Everywhere you look these days, something called "artisan" bread is appearing - on store shelves, in restaurants, on the Food Network. The overwhelming majority of it is WHITE BREAD. Just a step up from Wonder Bread people, really. But try to give them a slice of Wonder and they will look at you in scorn. Where did their common sense go? Don't tell me that I'm getting really good bread because it's "artisan" bread, then hand me a piece of white bread.

Wheat flour is a euphemism for white flour to trick you. Fool you. Sneak one in on you. And all the idiot chefs on the Food Network have bought in hook, line & sinker. Except one. They only have one chef (that I can think of) that pays attention to nutrition, and that's Ellie Krieger. Because of this, her shows have been relegated to the very undesirable timeslots of early morning. The rest of them wave their loaves of white "artisan" bread around, trying to one-up each other with flavors/textures/shapes, like a giant dick-waving contest. Whose bread is more "artisan"? Phooey.

wheat flour = white flour = bad
whole wheat flour = good (that word "whole" has to be there)

Please. Read the label. Unless it says "whole" wheat flour, it is nothing. but. white. bread.

The same goes for white rice and pasta. If it ain't brown, it ain't in my kitchen.
(Unless it's dessert, which makes no claim to be good for you. If it's a treat, I'm breaking out the white flour, white sugar, and butter. "Healthy" and "brownies" are incompatible terms, IMHO.)

Lest you think I am being an insufferable snob, this is the way it's supposed to work. Does it always work this way with me? Uh uh. I'm weak, I stumble, I falter, I want a Twinkie!

I won't follow these rules when being served at someone else's house. That would just be rude. Or while dining out, unless I can choose. But not every Italian restaurant has whole wheat pasta, and I do love my spaghetti. You gotta have your limits.

Some of the worst on Food Network for pimping out unhealthy eating habits are (click on their names for more fun reading):

Paula Deen - her favorite ingredients are butter, mayo, sour cream, butter, sour cream, mayo, butter, and butter. And deep frying anything she can get her hands on. And making breakfast sandwiches out of eggs, sausage, cheese, and Krispy Kreme donuts. And some of it looks horrifyingly good.

Sandra Lee - all her food comes from boxes, bags, cans, and various other packaging options. She is in love with sodium & msg-laced seasoning packets. "Pre-" is her favorite term, and preservatives & chemicals are her favorite ingredients. All she cares about is being able to "see" the flavor in whatever sh*t she stirs together. Who cares if it is basically poison? That and ingesting as much booze as possible because "cocktail time is the best time of the day". She is completely serious about this. ~~Shudder~~

Guy Fieri - he likes to deep fry everything, too, and although his food isn't quite as bad as the ones above, I dislike him on principle. I mean, really, when you go out of your way to look and act like a moron, you end up resembling something else entirely (thanks to BuckyKatt for the horse pic. Now it can be linked to another site for more nefarious purposes).

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_J8mzvC2H6_Q/Sa_XQUQ1iAI/AAAAAAAAApQ/l2OzwzRCrZw/s320/guy-fieri-pits.jpg

Trust me, the horse's ass is an amazing resemblance. That, and the fact that he usually wears his sunglasses on the back of his head. Dip-wad.

What was the point of all this?

Oh, I remember - reinventing my food. Here's how this is going to work. Like I said, I like to watch the Food Network. I have copied many a tasty-sounding recipe from there and many other sources. So, what I'm gonna do is pick out one each week (maybe more, we'll see) that looks really good, and see if I can't pack more of a nutritional punch by doing a little tweaking. If I have to go on a diet (doncha hate that word), I want to make each cruelly rationed bite count.

Excuse me now while I go take stock of my pantry. I may have to pitch out some things. Or feed it to the animals. Heh.

In Memorium

2 years ago today, the nation wrapped its arms around a tiny town in the Virginia mountains after a devastating tragedy. Other Virginia colleges, along with colleges everywhere, joined hands with their Hokie rivals . . .

. . . and the nation spoke with one voice, "We are all Hokies!"

Remembering the Hokies - the students, staff, and residents of Blacksburg - on this 2-year anniversary.

From the Candlelight Vigil 2 years ago, taken on the fly with my cell phone:

Some scenes of the memorials in front of Burruss Hall a year later:

We will never forget. We are Virginia Tech.