Supah Bowl!

Pittsburgh Steelers vs. Arizona Cardinals.

We are rooting for the Steelers big time over here. But before we dive into the game, we must first rouse our patriotism with the singing of the USA's national anthem. This year Tampa Bay will have Jennifer Hudson sing. I am very anxious to hear her killer voice tackle The Star Spangled Banner. (I'm just hoping she doesn't go too Christina on me with all the oohs and yea's celebs like to throw in there.)

The national anthem is actually a really tough song to sing. I should know. Seeing as how I don't really sing. But singers tell me that it is a hard song to sing and Lord knows, we've all been at "X" sporting event and some poor, eager soul botched it all up. And it isn't just the little beauty queen runner ups in small Southern towns who botch it up, either. Famous folks mutilate the national anthem far too often. (Um , Sheryl Crow, Michael Bolton. Not that I expected much from the latter. Still one would think that as an American Citizen and paid professional, he would at least know the words.)

Anyways, The Star Spangled Banner is a tough song. And on top of that everyone knows what it is supposed to sound like. Plus you are, like, honoring your country and everything.

So like, there is a lot of pressure and stuff and stuff.

Despite the pressure, some folks can just deliver. Like these here folks below.

And lo, I give you...

Beth's Favorite Famous Person Versions of The Star Spangled Banner:

Whew that was a long list title!

(Disclaimer Alert: This is a famous person only list. But if I were to remove that restriction, my sister-in-law Rosie would definitely make the list because she can wail on the national anthem and then some. Take that Francis Scott Key!)

And the Honorable Mention goes to: Jimi Hendrix for rockin it on his git-tar. But since he technically didn't sing the anthem, I feel somewhat guilty putting him on this list. Nonetheless, his version definitely merits big ups.

#3: Marvin Gay circa 1983- Why choose this version? Because suffice to say that only Marvin Gay could sing a tune penned in 1814 about war fare that makes you want to (dare I say it) get it on.


(It's odd to be aroused at the thought of the rocket's red glare. Although they did give proof through the night...but I digress.)

Moving on, #2: The Dixie Chicks circa 2003. Their harmony drips all over the song and is quite simply, amazing. But then again they are amazing. I *heart* the Dixie Chicks!


And finally, # El Numero Uno: We know her. We remember her. We eagerly await her comeback.
Whitney Houston. Circa 1991. I just don't know that this version can be beat. Too bad Whitney can't beat her Bobby Brown / crack habit. Sigh. I miss Whitney...



Jennifer Honey, this is what you are up against. If anyone can do it, I think it might be you. Good luck!

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The Age Old Question

What’s for supper?

My, my, my. How I used to probably annoy my poor mother with this question. Now I get to annoy myself silly with it.

This question elicits a great deal of emotion from me. It excites me to think of the endless yummy possibilities for what will be my final meal of the day. Perhaps if I lived in Espana, what’s for lunch (or: ¿Qué es para almorzar?) would be the more exciting question, as lunch time is traditionally the Spaniards' big meal of the day. But sadly, I don’t live in beautiful Espana. Nope, I live here. And here, I get to focus all my food energy on supper. Breakfast can be slim, lunch can be drab, but please don’t make me eat a weak supper.

While this questions makes me salivate more than one probably should, it also elicits a weary dread. Especially Mondays through Fridays. Don’t get me wrong I am fascinated with (ok, obsessed really) eating, food and cooking. I don’t profess to have talent, but I do love to cook. Just in a leisurely sort of way.

But let’s face it. The weeknight meal is a challenge. I don’t care what Rachel Ray says. Inevitably, as the week progresses, suppertime becomes more like battle time. My senses and stomach yearn for pleasurable, warm fulfillment. My mind and limbs yearn for ease and minimal effort. (My wallet simply yearns for no take out orders.)

Thus, an enraging debate ensues that goes a little something like this:


Mmmmm, I bought all the ingredients for chicken tetrazzini this weekend. I should make that tonight! I am soo good planning out all our meals in advance. I even thoughtfully put the chicken in the fridge last night to thaw out. Go me, I rock! This is going to taste awesome. Now let me just go get the recipe...

Whaattt?? I don’t remember this recipe having this many steps on Saturday. It looked so easy then. Crap. I should have cooked the chicken yesterday, so that I can have one less step today. Oh well, next time I will be more prepared. I’m so excited! Yummy, warm, cheesy pasta goodness. In my tummy. And it’s cold outside. Which makes it extra yummy. This dish also has mushrooms and peas. I love mushrooms and peas! I am like, sooo healthy. All it took was that one article in the SELF magazine and I have totally transformed myself into a health nut. Look at me! Cooking with real vegetables. I rock!

Ugh, wait I don’t have any mushrooms. How did I forget those? They were on my list. Crap. I really don’t want to go to the store. Double crap. Somanna just pulled up, so I can’t make him, err, ask him to go to the store. I hate going to the store. Especially for just.one.thing.

It’s ok though! Substitute!

Right-O. So it won’t be completely by the recipe, but that’s ok. That’s what real cooks do anyways. They adapt. They’re flexible. They make do with what is in their pantry. Brilliant! Food Network should hire me. I am a genius!

Except, err, our pantry has …..black beans, taco seasoning and cereal. The fridge has lemons and celery? How old is that celery? Oh Sweet Heavens. Ok. That won’t work. Geez, now I feel guilty for wasting the celery. I had total intentions of eating it in lieu of chips and salsa as part of my "get healthy 2009 plan." I don’t think black beans will exactly substitute for mushrooms. Hmmm, I wish I didn't keep thinking about that silly cereal staring me in the face. It would leave approximately 1.5 bowls and 2 spoons to load into the dishwasher. And it is already after 7 ....

NO! I will persevere! I will forge through and cook this scrumptious, healthy meal to please da hubby, my inner health nut and my inner hippie, not to mention my depraved taste buds and stomach. I’ve read all the books. Eat at home, cook more, eat green things = better for your waist, wallet and the earth. Yes! We will act out our own social protest right here in this very kitchen! Big food industry with all your pollutants and chemicals, be damned! Fast food chains with all your fat and salt, suck it! I just have to pysch myself up, that’s all. I can do it! I CAN DO IT!! Ok, first let’s just assemble all the ingredients and get this socially protestin' badass tetrazzini show on the road!

Holy Guacamole Batman! There are just way too many dishes here: a pot to boil the chicken, a pot to boil the pasta, a casserole dish, a cutting board, a mixing bowl, utensils. And don't forget the standard two plates + two forks + two glasses by the time we actually get to eating, which according to the recipe is roughly about 45 to 55 minutes away..... assuming I don't mess up, which is probable as I feel hunger pains rendering my mind delirious. I wish Somanna would quit giving me dirty looks that say “I cannot believe you would make me clean up that many dishes on a weeknight at 9:00?” I mean after all, I am cooking him dinner. And he knows how my feminist ovaries feel about that.

Well I've assembled everything. Just have to dive in now and chop up the onions and garlic.

Grrr. I loathe chopping.

What's that Somanna? American Idol has already started?

Aww, the hell with it. Cereal it is then.

Suck it up Senses. Your culinary delight awaits you on the weekend…..

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Oh, Oh Oh Oh...The White Stuff!

We've got the White Stuff Baby...
You're the reason why I write this blog.

Oh, Oh, Oh-oh-oh, The White Stuff

All that I needed was a day off ......from dumb worrrrkkkk!
And all that I wanted was yooouuuu......you made all .....the schools close!

(Now cross your arms and swing your legs. Admit it! You know this routine by heart!!)

Ok, I feel your skin cringing and your eyeballs twitching, so I will stop my lyrical genius mid-inspiration. But before you go knocking New Kids on The Block, just remember they gave us Mark Wahlberg, ok? So just..... Hang Tough.

I kid, I kid! Ok, ok I'll stop. Don't close your browser yet!

We've got pictures of snow. Real snow, like 6 whole inches in Eastern NC. And the pictures have captions!! Please stay!

Whew, I thought I had lost you there for a minute. It took a lot of exclamation marks to keep you here!

So on Tuesday, Inauguration Day, we woke up to SNOW. Like several inches worth; 6 to be precise. Which is apparently enough of a winter storm that the Governor of NC had to declare a state of emergency! (I hear you Norwegians laughing, along with other Northern folk. Just think of me next time you are shoveling your driveway, cursing the long winter.)

But let's not banter. The snow is only here for a little while and it's so pretty.

So let's reminiscence with a montage of pictures, shall we?

Although, I cannot promise there won't be more 80's flashbacks. I'm just in that kind of mood.

But I'll try. For all our sakes.



Oohh what's this? The Diesel Monster is silent?! No wait, he tried to crank this noisy beast for a solid 10 mins at 7 am and then let it "warm up" for another 10 minutes. Sshh Diesel Monster!! I'm trying to hear the snow fall dangit! It's supposed to be peacefull!



I'm twacking rabbits. Be bery bery quiet Diesel Monstwer!



Take that Elmer Fudd: Six Inches! See, I'm honest. Plus the only jokes I can think of for this caption are entirely inappropriate. Get your head out of the gutter! My grandmother reads this yall.



Somanna took a walk in the wee hours of the morning, while it was still snowing, so that he could play with his camera toy. I stayed in because snow day = laaaazzzyyy day. Except when you are in college, when snow day = shots + sledding = good times. Until classes are NOT cancelled the next day and you still have to turn in your paper that you wrote hung over.



What?!?!! No that story didn't really happen Mama, honest! Here look at our lovely Christmas tree! It is just so gorgeous, isn't it?!



I don't think we're in Kansas anymore Toto.
Nope, it's definitely Narnia.



Hmm, I think the Witch went by in her sleigh. Careful, she will turn you into stone!
Which reminds me, I have got to finish that series...



Shut the *#$% up. I am not going outside.



Do I look impressed?
Now let's get back to serving me and my needs...


Later in the day, we ventured out and about, as the Canadians say, for a big, long walk. So that you guessed it, Somanna could take more photos.


Sometimes he lets me take the "little camera." Let's see if you can guess who took which photos.

Documenting the property line...



Documenting that Beth needs new kicks.....



Somanna's artsy fartsy pics...








And then mine...



See it's up to me to balance his high brow ways. It's a responsibility I take very seriously.



The man in action.



Snow Beast in action.



This road is briefly clear long enough to get a shot.
Apparently snow in the South = get your redneck on. Everyone thrusts their car into four wheel drive and suddenly they are qualified to handle icy roads at break neck speeds. That is why I stay home like a conspiracy theorist loony.





And then we headed home. Where I busted out my early 90's techno hits while I did laundry.

He is one lucky husband!
The End.

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January 20, 2009

Change is gonna come! Hallelujah!



If you don't recognize the more famous individuals sprinkled throughout this video, it is high time to hit the history books.

"The struggle of humanity against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting," Milan Kundera.

Today is not just a victory for African-Americans. It is a victory for every single one of us, no matter who you voted for. America has stepped that much closer to our creed. "We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny," said Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Our past is as woven into our present as it is our future. To try to escape any of it, is impossible and moreover, frighteningly dangerous. Rather we must confront our past, face its grip on our present and from there work towards fulfilling completely the democratic promise of this country.

Today our hope is renewed.

Happy Inauguration Day!

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I *heart* Kitchen Aid!

Come To Daddy:


Now.

Come To Mama!


Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go make love to, err use my new toys.


**Big ups to both our big brothers and their lovely wives for their fabulous gift giving skillz! Thank you!!**

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(No) Word Wednesday

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The camera geek in me... or is it "I"??

So I participate quite reguarly... ok fine, very reguarly in an online forum for Pentax users, and last month we got this project started where one person was going to ship his old Pentax K1000 camera to different forum members. The plan was each member was going to take 2 shots and then pass it along. We also have to take a photo of the camera (with the film tab shown) as a sort of proof that we received it... in one piece. It started out in California, near L.A. and came to Cary, NC and then onto me (no shipping cost for that lucky user) and then I sent it along to upstate NY. Its going to hang around that area for a little bit, and then making its way through the mid-west finally back to owner.
Along the way the film is going to run out and one member has agreed to load/donate a new roll for this project. Once it gets to the owner he will develop the roll, scan the photos and share the images that we took. So in this day and age when we are so used to instant gratification, its different to wait for a bit to see what images were taken, esp. your own since I somewhat can't remember what I ended up taking.
The K1000 is a completely manual film camera, of which I own a copy as well, and it requires the user to set the exposure manually. So hopefully no one is going to have a under/over exposed image to share (knowing my luck, guess who it will be?)! Anyways here is the google maps I've made to track it along with the photo of the camera each person has taken. Hopefully in a couple of weeks this map will have many more zig-zag lines across it!


View Larger Map

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God Bless the Scots

Happy New Year!

We rang in 2009 by attending a family oyster roast at my grandmother's house in Columbus County, Nawth Caralina. Columbus County is in fact the only county in the whole entire US of A named after the famed lost explorer. So there. You have a new fun fact to throw in at your next cocktail party.

I'm only here to share the wealth of knowledge.

I hope you like seafood because if you don't, I'm not entirely sure these photos will convert you. Admittedly, seafood is not the most visually appealing food, but it is tasty. And it requires a "hands on / all hands on deck / any hand extremity related cliches" approach.



"The first man gets the oyster, the second man gets the shell." Andrew Carnegie


The term oyster roast, as best I can figure, stems from the days of yore when folks used to dig a big pit, often on the beach, throw in some coals and then place the oysters directly on the heat source to cook them. Along the way, someone figured out that steaming them is a heck of a lot easier than digging a big hole in the ground. But the name sure stuck and today folks in the low country still call it an oyster roast, even though by all technical accounts oysters are more often than not, steamed.


Steamed.





And then hacked open with tiny daggers.





And then gobbled down with homemade cocktail sauce or squeeze of lemon, if that suits your fancy.



"He was a bold man that first eat an oyster." Jonathan Swift


Oysters have long been considered a delicacy. When roasted, they have a slightly salty taste and a moderately fleshy texture. Despite their appearance, oysters do not feel slimy at all. Unless eaten on the half shell. (In which case, well duh, what did you expect.)


Either way these mollusks draw a definitive line in the sand: Ya either love 'em or hate 'em.





After cooking enough oysters to feed a small Roman Army, we headed inside to watch the ball drop in NYC's Times Square, followed by a rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne. A song, which cannot possibly be understood sober, much less after consuming several celebratory drinks. I even googled the lyrics to this old folk tune, in part for this post, and in part as a determined effort to learn this song once and for all. But that attempt only left me with a big WTF expression on my face (sorry, parental units. But I gotta be real here.)


Nonetheless, we clumsily chimed in on the first and last lines of the song, mumbled our way through the middle like everyone else in the world (except the Scots) and ended it with a big Happy New Year! So mission accomplished.



Waiting for the New Year is awfully tiring on the little guy.


New Year's Day began with you guessed it, more eats! Our celebratory feast included black eyed peas (to bring good luck) served with rice, a dish commonly referred to as Hoppin' John in the dirty South. Also served were collard greens (for financial prosperity) cooked with ham hock (for, ironically enough, good health.)


At the risk of permanently ostracizing myself from the South (and lest we forget, possible financial ruin) I must confess I do not par take in the bitter collard greens. No siree. No ma'am.


I do not like green collards and ham, Sam I am.


I will not eat them in a house.
I will not eat them with a mouse.
I will not eat them here or there.
I will not eat them anywhere!


You get the point.


But that's OK, because it left more for Brittany, who loves her some collards greens. To the point that my parents' told her when she was little, and dependent upon them for truth and honesty and sustenance, (you know, little things like that,) that all greens were collards. And so little Brittany would literally scarf down my parents' lies, while I shook my head in shame at this monstrosity. But do not fret dear readers! Brittany survived, to only be slightly embarrassed at this story.


That was told, like 100 times in the course of 48 hours.


In front of her boyfriend no less.


And now I'm posting it on the intrawebs.


Good times :-)
She's a tough one, that Brittany. Maybe it was the spinach or were they collards?....but I digress.


Surely you didn't think that was the only food we had did you?


Silly readers! Portion control is for wimps!


My uncle Dick also made a mean vegetarian chili.


Granted, I realize that last sentence is arguably an oxymoron. But seriously this chili was.that.good. And once I get the recipe I promise to post it. Girl Scouts honor. (or something, I don't know. I didn't get into girl scouts. But it sounds honest, so in the meantime I'll just borrow this phrase.)


So we ate. We visited. We conquered the couch.


And then we headed home where we had some super cute visitors until Saturday.



Hurray for Aunt Beth! She rocks!!



Joe is teaching Bennett the fine art of carpentry skills. I plan on employing these laddies to remodel my house once they hit their physical prime of oh, about 19. And since I will be their elder and a relative, I can get away with paying them menial wages.



Hey, paparazzi! I'm on to you!



Angels. Bless 'em.


And that sums up our end to 2008 and the beginning to 2009.


2008 was monumental for us, for which we are very thankful and blessed.


But it also left us a little tired.


So here is to a healthy, relaxed, tasty, prosperous and FUN 2009!

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(No) Word Wednesday

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