...at work today: it was good and easy (for those amongst you who are shrimp eaters.) A salad, made with spring mix, the bagged stuff you buy RTU, and dump in the bowl, add toppings and consume. The yummy stuff on the one I was making today included some dried cranberries, cheese crumbles, and coarsely chopped cinnamon'd almonds. The shrimp was remarkably simple to make, just put them, shelled and de-veined, in a little bowl or zipper bag that has two Tbs. of 'shake and bake' barbeque flavored coating, along with 1 Tbs. of blackened fish seasoning. Put them in the hot oven (450) for about five or six min., and they are ready to serve. According to all the people who ate the shrimp, it is not too spicey. I would reduce the amount of the hot stuff by half if it were happening at my house - but your taste buds can probably tolerate more than mine...
Oh - and to make the salad the best ever, you peel and cut up a navel orange, toss in a Tbs. of cinnamon sugar mix, and put that in the oven for four or five minutes, let cool, and add to salad. Then top it all with a drizzle a third of a cup of Vidalia Onion salad dressing.(Do not drink the salad dressing - even though it is good enough to pour over biscuits, you are not allowed to chug the whole bottle.) I'm all for the salad without the shrimp - but that's not how the recipe goes. So if I was making it at my house, I would go right by the recipe, but use a cubed chicken breast to replace the shrimps I am not going to put in my mouth.
Good and Easy. A combo that is hard to beat. I think it is probably the easiest, quickest recipe I have put together since I started doing the demo. back in the fall. I was trying to save the zest from the oranges, for some as yet undetermined reason, but it goes together so fast when you are getting it ready to serve, I did not have time to shave the skin after the second time I made it. I don't know what I will do with dried orange zest, but it's got to be good for something? Any ideas?
Friday, February 6, 2015
today, probably...
...starts the beginning of the run-up to next Saturday. Which is Feb. 14, for those of you who do not look ahead on the calendar. I start thinking about it on Feb. 15, after I have had time to think about how thankful I am to have survived the previous Valentine's Day without loosing my marbles or hurting someone.
I've been doing non-floral work in recent months. And reminding the produce manager that Feb. 14 is looming. With the thought/hope he would take the time to put me on the work schedule for floral department instead of leaving me at the mercy of the Customer Service Manager. But I will be doing the cooking demo. for the next two days. And then start with floral on Monday. Happy to get back on the other side of the store, and out of the cooking arena for a week.
Though it's been so long since I have done the floral freight, of which there will be much, I will likely struggle with that. I'm guessing pallets and pallets of shrink-wrapped cartons of plants and lots and lots of boxes filled with buckets of dozens of roses. Like an avalanche of cut flowers. You would normally think: 'oh, how pretty', but in the same way an accident on a snowy mountain can be overwhelming, it is possible to have too much of a good thing. By being swamped with cut flowers.
The first year I worked in a flower shop during a holiday, I was astounded by the event. The number of people who were willing to pay forty five or fifty dollars for a dozen roses. Back in the era when minimum wage was probably less than five dollars an hour, and I was thankful to have a job. I have the clearest memory of standing in one place, along one side of the table where several other people were working, putting cut flowers in vases. My assignment was to put dozens of red roses in white milk-glass containers. Then tuck in some fern and fluffy gypsophilia/white lacy babies breath. I am not kidding - I did that for twenty-four hours. Went home, and took a shower, went back to work.
That will not happen next week, as the company is fanatic about the idea of anyone getting to the point of receiving a penny in overtime pay. But I am pretty much assured of working very close to a full week. Which is a mixed blessing in a number of ways. Including reminding me of how convinced I am that my knees are older than the rest of my body.
I've been doing non-floral work in recent months. And reminding the produce manager that Feb. 14 is looming. With the thought/hope he would take the time to put me on the work schedule for floral department instead of leaving me at the mercy of the Customer Service Manager. But I will be doing the cooking demo. for the next two days. And then start with floral on Monday. Happy to get back on the other side of the store, and out of the cooking arena for a week.
Though it's been so long since I have done the floral freight, of which there will be much, I will likely struggle with that. I'm guessing pallets and pallets of shrink-wrapped cartons of plants and lots and lots of boxes filled with buckets of dozens of roses. Like an avalanche of cut flowers. You would normally think: 'oh, how pretty', but in the same way an accident on a snowy mountain can be overwhelming, it is possible to have too much of a good thing. By being swamped with cut flowers.
The first year I worked in a flower shop during a holiday, I was astounded by the event. The number of people who were willing to pay forty five or fifty dollars for a dozen roses. Back in the era when minimum wage was probably less than five dollars an hour, and I was thankful to have a job. I have the clearest memory of standing in one place, along one side of the table where several other people were working, putting cut flowers in vases. My assignment was to put dozens of red roses in white milk-glass containers. Then tuck in some fern and fluffy gypsophilia/white lacy babies breath. I am not kidding - I did that for twenty-four hours. Went home, and took a shower, went back to work.
That will not happen next week, as the company is fanatic about the idea of anyone getting to the point of receiving a penny in overtime pay. But I am pretty much assured of working very close to a full week. Which is a mixed blessing in a number of ways. Including reminding me of how convinced I am that my knees are older than the rest of my body.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
not for the squeamish...
... of which I am one. But due to the fact that I was the 'victim' today, I am more than willing to share about my experience. It sounds much worser than the actual event, not at all excruciating, which is what I had expected, and without drugs to medicate. I deliberately did not put too much thought into the appointment with at the vision clinic this morning, or I probably would have cancelled.
I've been having a problem for years with dry eyes. Not enough to be miserable, or even slightly painful, just more of a nuisance. As well as making me look like either: up all night studying for finals, or a serious hangover, with red eyes that looked dreadful. I'd been to the 'red-eye' specialist, who wrote a Rx for high priced drops, that did not seem to have any effect. So he said: 'if you did not have a mirror, would this be a problem?' I decided No. And would occasionally put some moisturizing drops in when I would look at me looking back, appearing to have been on a bender. But mostly just practicing living with something that was barely a 1, on the How Annoying Is It? scale.
Until I started going to this dr. at the optical shop. Who decided I should be concerned about beginning stages of cataracts and something my dad struggled with: macular degeneration. So he suggested 'we' (as in the Imperial WE, meaning I would be the victim, and he would be the one holding me down. Not really - I just sat there and let it happen.) should put some little wee bitty 'plugs' in my tear ducts. To keep more of the moisture there, to stay on my eyes each time I blink.
You probably did not know, or realize that you have two different types of duct work there. One is from the place/gland that makes the lubricating fluid, a sort of mini-irrigation or sprinkler system. And the other is more like gutters along the edge of the roof. Designed to drain off the wetness, so it does not run down your cheeks unless you produce an abundance, when going to see a really sappy movie, or reading a most distressing tale.
These wee 'plugs' were inserted with pointy tweezers. Try to not blink when someone is headed towards your eyeball with a sharp pointy object and says: keep your eye wide open. Ha! It was surprisingly painless. A good thing, as I was getting thoroughly anxious by the time he came in and they turned the lights down, having second thoughts, and gazing about for a nearby exit.
I have an appt. to go back in early May, to decide if doing different 'plugs' that are more permanent is a good idea. Instructed to continue to put drops in twice a day, and use the multivitamins that have added ingredients for good eye health. We'll see how this works out...
I've been having a problem for years with dry eyes. Not enough to be miserable, or even slightly painful, just more of a nuisance. As well as making me look like either: up all night studying for finals, or a serious hangover, with red eyes that looked dreadful. I'd been to the 'red-eye' specialist, who wrote a Rx for high priced drops, that did not seem to have any effect. So he said: 'if you did not have a mirror, would this be a problem?' I decided No. And would occasionally put some moisturizing drops in when I would look at me looking back, appearing to have been on a bender. But mostly just practicing living with something that was barely a 1, on the How Annoying Is It? scale.
Until I started going to this dr. at the optical shop. Who decided I should be concerned about beginning stages of cataracts and something my dad struggled with: macular degeneration. So he suggested 'we' (as in the Imperial WE, meaning I would be the victim, and he would be the one holding me down. Not really - I just sat there and let it happen.) should put some little wee bitty 'plugs' in my tear ducts. To keep more of the moisture there, to stay on my eyes each time I blink.
You probably did not know, or realize that you have two different types of duct work there. One is from the place/gland that makes the lubricating fluid, a sort of mini-irrigation or sprinkler system. And the other is more like gutters along the edge of the roof. Designed to drain off the wetness, so it does not run down your cheeks unless you produce an abundance, when going to see a really sappy movie, or reading a most distressing tale.
These wee 'plugs' were inserted with pointy tweezers. Try to not blink when someone is headed towards your eyeball with a sharp pointy object and says: keep your eye wide open. Ha! It was surprisingly painless. A good thing, as I was getting thoroughly anxious by the time he came in and they turned the lights down, having second thoughts, and gazing about for a nearby exit.
I have an appt. to go back in early May, to decide if doing different 'plugs' that are more permanent is a good idea. Instructed to continue to put drops in twice a day, and use the multivitamins that have added ingredients for good eye health. We'll see how this works out...
limited appeal....
... for this amusing remembrance. A story of some small incident(s) occurring twenty or so years ago, but not of any particular interest to the general public. My children, now grown, and gone, had a habit of persuading me to walk with them from their dad's office around the corner to a small strip mall. Where there was a drop off/pick up store front for a local laundry. The cleaners he used for his business suits and starched white shirts. (You did not think I was doing the starching and ironing, did you?)
There was an older, small, round black woman who worked there, along with an assortment of young people. The teens were likely after school help, just looking for part-time work to make a little income for funding various needs and desires. But we were regular enough as customers that the girls became acquainted with the black woman, who was the only full time employee. Her name was Mamie.
They would beg and plead and pester until I would agree to take five minutes to walk with them around the corner to see Mamie who always had a lollipop available for little people. We would walk, along the edge of the paved area, where there was a drive through window for people to pick up without leaving their vehicles. And the requisite black hose that would cause a bell to ding, ding for employees to know there were customers waiting to pick up. Kids could not resist jumping up and down. To ding, ding dingdingdingding the bell.
I had completely forgotten about this regular visit we made to the laundry lady, until I walked by a MasterKleen store today. Saw the little black hose, lying looped out on the asphalt near the drive-through window, and thought of Mamie, with her little grey curled chin hairs. I am sure she is somewhere up above, sitting on a cloud, passing out lollipops to little people bouncing around, testing out their wings.
There was an older, small, round black woman who worked there, along with an assortment of young people. The teens were likely after school help, just looking for part-time work to make a little income for funding various needs and desires. But we were regular enough as customers that the girls became acquainted with the black woman, who was the only full time employee. Her name was Mamie.
They would beg and plead and pester until I would agree to take five minutes to walk with them around the corner to see Mamie who always had a lollipop available for little people. We would walk, along the edge of the paved area, where there was a drive through window for people to pick up without leaving their vehicles. And the requisite black hose that would cause a bell to ding, ding for employees to know there were customers waiting to pick up. Kids could not resist jumping up and down. To ding, ding dingdingdingding the bell.
I had completely forgotten about this regular visit we made to the laundry lady, until I walked by a MasterKleen store today. Saw the little black hose, lying looped out on the asphalt near the drive-through window, and thought of Mamie, with her little grey curled chin hairs. I am sure she is somewhere up above, sitting on a cloud, passing out lollipops to little people bouncing around, testing out their wings.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
drivin' in the dark...
occurred this morning, when I got on the road headed to south Georgia about 6:00 a.m. The temp, according to my car, was 28 degrees. I have on several layers, and once my heater got to work, it was not unpleasant. Stopped after driving about halfway at a curb store, and saw a couple of people, dressed in insulated hunting garb getting off a motorcycle. Looking like the Michelin tire man, in many (maybe all they owned) layers of clothing. I thought: 'well, there's something to be thankful for - vehicles with four wheels and heaters!'
I was about halfway to Albany when the sky began to get light, sun coming up and glowing below the cloud cover. It was a beautiful sight, seeing the world changing from dark to light as the clouds began to glow. Out on the horizon, looking east across the fallow fields, the sky was nearly blood red, then gradually becoming a brilliant orange as the miles and minutes passed. The clouds overhead, once lit up, gave the appearance of liquid gold, the color you see in special effects in the movies: glowing, a brilliant shade of orange-yellow. Slowly becoming lighter, changing to pewter, then silver as the earth turned, and the sun began to have a greater effect.
Looking out over the landscape, seeing the bare trees along the fence rows. Giving the appearance of a fine-print etching as the sky became back-lit and the branches and twigs on each tree came into clear focus as the lighting changed. Many of the trees being deciduous, with evergreen cedars and pines mixed in, like carefully designed works of art against the slowly brightening sky. Each limb neatly and deliberately delineated as if painstakingly planned to become an integral part of the masterpiece.
Driving back north late this afternoon, I realized it was 6:30 and just beginning to get dark. So nighttime does not fall with a loud clunk, like it did by six o'clock just weeks ago. And the first day of spring is about six weeks away. Glad to be sleeping in my own bed. I don't like to make that trip down and back in one day. But I did, and sure I will sleep well in my own space.
I was about halfway to Albany when the sky began to get light, sun coming up and glowing below the cloud cover. It was a beautiful sight, seeing the world changing from dark to light as the clouds began to glow. Out on the horizon, looking east across the fallow fields, the sky was nearly blood red, then gradually becoming a brilliant orange as the miles and minutes passed. The clouds overhead, once lit up, gave the appearance of liquid gold, the color you see in special effects in the movies: glowing, a brilliant shade of orange-yellow. Slowly becoming lighter, changing to pewter, then silver as the earth turned, and the sun began to have a greater effect.
Looking out over the landscape, seeing the bare trees along the fence rows. Giving the appearance of a fine-print etching as the sky became back-lit and the branches and twigs on each tree came into clear focus as the lighting changed. Many of the trees being deciduous, with evergreen cedars and pines mixed in, like carefully designed works of art against the slowly brightening sky. Each limb neatly and deliberately delineated as if painstakingly planned to become an integral part of the masterpiece.
Driving back north late this afternoon, I realized it was 6:30 and just beginning to get dark. So nighttime does not fall with a loud clunk, like it did by six o'clock just weeks ago. And the first day of spring is about six weeks away. Glad to be sleeping in my own bed. I don't like to make that trip down and back in one day. But I did, and sure I will sleep well in my own space.
Monday, February 2, 2015
cookin'....
...was pretty simple and easily done today. The recipe was for pannini. I have not ever before today. But if hundreds and hundreds of grilled cheese counts, I have, sort of. These were not nearly as wonderfully greasy as a grilled cheese. And probably, except for the fact that you start with deep fried chicken strips, almost healthy.
You make up a (pseudo) chutney with sun-dried tomatoes and pineapple jelly, plus a spoonful of balsamic vinegar. Spread it over the slices of baguette, and top with deli chicken fingers. Add half a slice of cheese (I forgot what kind - so whatever you got in the fridge). Hmmm... I think I was using provolone, nice runny mozzarella would be good! Top with another slice of baguette, spray it with nonstick cooking spray and put in the pannini press for about five min. Everything that needs to cook is already done: the chicken came from the deli, so it only needs to heat up and melt the cheese.
If you don't have a pannini press, which I do not, and do not want any more appliances/stuff, thankyouverymuch. So I was telling people all day they should drag out the George Foreman grill and use that instead. Not nearly as messy as having to clean it up after cooking burgers. Or just put it in the iron skillet with something weighty to flatten it out: like you do those wonderfully bad-for-you grilled cheese sandwiches. I got lots of compliments on my 'skills', and have begun to say to people who tell me 'this is really good': "tell my boss what a great job I am doing".
I gave all the pannini away, so I never got a chance to taste one. But I did eat some of the confetti salad. It was so yummy, I accidently brought some leftovers home. It's so easy and quick to put together, I was almost embarrassed to be handing out the recipe, so simple to make, you dont' even need to write it down. Five ingredients. Five minutes. On the table. What could be easier?
Two cups of rice. (We were using the RTU Uncle Bens, that you put in the micro for ninety seconds, but if I were to make it at home, I would be using brown instead of barely nutritious/white.
Can of red beans, rinsed well and drained
3/4 cup of trinity mix (diced tomatoes, bell pepper and onion) - or to taste, whatever you like (please leave the raw onions out of mine)
1 T. lime juice
1/3 cup lite Ceasar salad dressing.
Salt and pepper
Stir, take the bowl in the closet and close the door so no one sees you eating the whole thing.
You make up a (pseudo) chutney with sun-dried tomatoes and pineapple jelly, plus a spoonful of balsamic vinegar. Spread it over the slices of baguette, and top with deli chicken fingers. Add half a slice of cheese (I forgot what kind - so whatever you got in the fridge). Hmmm... I think I was using provolone, nice runny mozzarella would be good! Top with another slice of baguette, spray it with nonstick cooking spray and put in the pannini press for about five min. Everything that needs to cook is already done: the chicken came from the deli, so it only needs to heat up and melt the cheese.
If you don't have a pannini press, which I do not, and do not want any more appliances/stuff, thankyouverymuch. So I was telling people all day they should drag out the George Foreman grill and use that instead. Not nearly as messy as having to clean it up after cooking burgers. Or just put it in the iron skillet with something weighty to flatten it out: like you do those wonderfully bad-for-you grilled cheese sandwiches. I got lots of compliments on my 'skills', and have begun to say to people who tell me 'this is really good': "tell my boss what a great job I am doing".
I gave all the pannini away, so I never got a chance to taste one. But I did eat some of the confetti salad. It was so yummy, I accidently brought some leftovers home. It's so easy and quick to put together, I was almost embarrassed to be handing out the recipe, so simple to make, you dont' even need to write it down. Five ingredients. Five minutes. On the table. What could be easier?
Two cups of rice. (We were using the RTU Uncle Bens, that you put in the micro for ninety seconds, but if I were to make it at home, I would be using brown instead of barely nutritious/white.
Can of red beans, rinsed well and drained
3/4 cup of trinity mix (diced tomatoes, bell pepper and onion) - or to taste, whatever you like (please leave the raw onions out of mine)
1 T. lime juice
1/3 cup lite Ceasar salad dressing.
Salt and pepper
Stir, take the bowl in the closet and close the door so no one sees you eating the whole thing.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
gray day...
...out there, when I was hoping for sunshine. I was going to do some trash pick up in the yard, but it's windy, overcast and not appealing at all. Making me think it looks much more like a day for a nap instead of filling the wheelbarrow with sticks and limbs to roll up to the street. The never-ending task that accompanies living in a house out in the woods, on a big lot, with lots of trees that constantly (like small children?) need picking up after.
Looking at those little happy hyacinths in the flower bed, and hope that some of those dozens of daffodils rescued from the dumpster will want to bloom this spring. Down the hill behind the house, and out front, towards the street on our wooded lot, maybe two hundred bulbs planted over the years. Most were 'bloomed out', started in a greenhouse someplace (Canada?), to be shipped to retailers for gift-giving holiday: Valentines', Easter or Mother's Day. They are beautiful for several days, glorious when they are showing off, but quickly go down hill, and fade into, literally: nothing.
The vast majority of weary plants get tossed in the trash, but I have brought pots home over the years, (mostly bulbs, spring bloomers and a few calla lilies) and installed into the leaf mulch around the house. Out in the yard under the trees, where they could grow roots in the rich soil, undisturbed. My dad was of the opinion that things that had been made to bloom 'un-naturally', out of season, would never perform satisfactorily when planted out in the world. They would never recover, to the point of rejuvenating the energy they had used in the greenhouse to revert and bloom at the proper time/season when growing in a natural environment. I won't disagree, as there are paper whites from years ago, that though planted under the deciduous trees, have not done much blooming.
Several hours later, after puttering in the kitchen, putting on a pot of soup to simmer, folding dozens of towels from church, and returning here: end of debate about yard work vs nap, when I looked out the window and see it is beginning to drizzle. I could get in the car and drive myself someplace to walk for an hour, but I could also just go lay down on the couch and see what happens after that....
Looking at those little happy hyacinths in the flower bed, and hope that some of those dozens of daffodils rescued from the dumpster will want to bloom this spring. Down the hill behind the house, and out front, towards the street on our wooded lot, maybe two hundred bulbs planted over the years. Most were 'bloomed out', started in a greenhouse someplace (Canada?), to be shipped to retailers for gift-giving holiday: Valentines', Easter or Mother's Day. They are beautiful for several days, glorious when they are showing off, but quickly go down hill, and fade into, literally: nothing.
The vast majority of weary plants get tossed in the trash, but I have brought pots home over the years, (mostly bulbs, spring bloomers and a few calla lilies) and installed into the leaf mulch around the house. Out in the yard under the trees, where they could grow roots in the rich soil, undisturbed. My dad was of the opinion that things that had been made to bloom 'un-naturally', out of season, would never perform satisfactorily when planted out in the world. They would never recover, to the point of rejuvenating the energy they had used in the greenhouse to revert and bloom at the proper time/season when growing in a natural environment. I won't disagree, as there are paper whites from years ago, that though planted under the deciduous trees, have not done much blooming.
Several hours later, after puttering in the kitchen, putting on a pot of soup to simmer, folding dozens of towels from church, and returning here: end of debate about yard work vs nap, when I looked out the window and see it is beginning to drizzle. I could get in the car and drive myself someplace to walk for an hour, but I could also just go lay down on the couch and see what happens after that....
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