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the long-winded version of my life.
Aug. 2nd, 2008 07:51 pmThings were accomplished today.
I made pesto this morning and poured the stuff into ice cube trays and once they were solid I put all the pesto blocks in freezer bags. Now I can just pull out a cube and drop it into whatever I am cooking. How Martha can you get?
We took Senor Onion swimming. I admit freely that I didn't want to go because it would mean wearing a bathing suit. Being a chick and having to wear a bathing suit is tough sometimes. Especially since becoming a Mom. I can set aside a lot of my vanity but the bathing suit thing is kind of a tough one. "Hey world, want to see the spider veins I acquired during my pregnancy that decided to stay just 'cuz?" And the thunder thighs and the stomach that makes me sigh and well... everything. But Mr. Jenner who is often the voice of reason about these things said, "It is family swim. There are going to be other Mums there. So no one will care." There is some truth to that. Everyone else is going to be rocking the thunder thighs, the spider veins and the lumpy bits that come with being a Mother. And hey my bathing suit was brightly colored. We had a pretty decent time. Senor Onion was more comfortable in the water this time and didn't cling for dear life. He enjoyed playing with a ball and a duckie that was floating around. Once he reached the point of extreme shivering/purple lips we decided it was time to skedaddle home. He was fed and put down for a nap and I went off to be poked with needles. Lovely time. I was in a half-state of sleep. I was mostly thinking about places I want to go. The spot where she put a needle in my right hand really ached afterward.
A slight rewind to earlier in the day, Mr. Jenner went off to the east-side to have his hair cut and to pick up bread from the bakery we like. I was just there about a week and a half ago and everything seemed busy and dandy. This morning Mr. Jenner shows up and the shop is empty and shut and there is a notice that a French bakery is going in. A bit odd eh? He goes to the bakery's Mercer Island shop and lo... the same thing. What the heck??? Mr. Jenner has lived in this country over six years, finally finds a bread that tastes like the stuff he had at home in England and the bastards up and leave in the middle of the night like gypsies.
The hunt for half-way decent bread begins yet again.
I came home and put up with the Blue Angels flying over. Senor Onion was out in the garden, watering the strawberry plants (though doing a better job of watering his own feet) when the formation flew right over the house. It scared the shit out of the poor kid. He ran up the steps and came screaming into the dining room -holding tightly onto his little watering can. Thanks Blue Angels. Thanks a fucking lot. I calmed him down but he obviously lost his love of those jets.
I had some left-over tomatoes from yesterday that were pretty ripe so I canned them. I picked basil and oregano from the yard. I tossed in that and garlic into the jars and then added the tomatoes and some water, salt and lemon juice. I was influenced by stuff my Mom has done. I call it Genovese tomatoes. Because fancy names are important.
Tomorrow I think I will get around to making blueberry spice jam.
Dinner was prosciutto tortellini with a chevre and garlic bechamel sauce. Plus the usual salad. We live in exciting times at Chez Anglo-America.
Right now the A-list gays who live two doors down are having a party. When they have a party it involves well-sculpted pretty gay men wearing no shirts, possibly a cowboy hat or two. Plus there are tiki-torches and thumping dance hall music. They also sip rather tony cocktails. It isn't like I have binoculars or a spyglass but we have a window that looks directly into their yard and this floor of our house is set a bit higher so we can watch A-list gays mingle and listen to Madonna. It is better than cable. They also have adorable fluffy retriever dogs. Whenever I see them on the sidewalk I just want to go up and ruffle their fur. The dogs. Not the gays. Though who knows, maybe ruffling the fur of gay men is fun too. But I am sure they wouldn't appreciate me doing that. "Okay crazy neighbor lady."
I want to go to the market tomorrow and buy spices and some garlic. I freaking ran out of garlic. I never do that.
Tomorrow there is the weekly video call with Senor Onion's Nana. I am sure most of the talk will be about the new cousins. We told him the names and said, "Can you say Ella?" and he did an impression of an elephant. *snorts* And when we said, "Can you say Grace?" he said Grape.
So he has cousins named Elephant and Grape. It turns out that Ella and Grace are identical twins. For now they wear different colored hats. When they are older someone should mark them with a pen or something so we can tell them apart.
Now it is time to watch a movie and eat dessert.
I made pesto this morning and poured the stuff into ice cube trays and once they were solid I put all the pesto blocks in freezer bags. Now I can just pull out a cube and drop it into whatever I am cooking. How Martha can you get?
We took Senor Onion swimming. I admit freely that I didn't want to go because it would mean wearing a bathing suit. Being a chick and having to wear a bathing suit is tough sometimes. Especially since becoming a Mom. I can set aside a lot of my vanity but the bathing suit thing is kind of a tough one. "Hey world, want to see the spider veins I acquired during my pregnancy that decided to stay just 'cuz?" And the thunder thighs and the stomach that makes me sigh and well... everything. But Mr. Jenner who is often the voice of reason about these things said, "It is family swim. There are going to be other Mums there. So no one will care." There is some truth to that. Everyone else is going to be rocking the thunder thighs, the spider veins and the lumpy bits that come with being a Mother. And hey my bathing suit was brightly colored. We had a pretty decent time. Senor Onion was more comfortable in the water this time and didn't cling for dear life. He enjoyed playing with a ball and a duckie that was floating around. Once he reached the point of extreme shivering/purple lips we decided it was time to skedaddle home. He was fed and put down for a nap and I went off to be poked with needles. Lovely time. I was in a half-state of sleep. I was mostly thinking about places I want to go. The spot where she put a needle in my right hand really ached afterward.
A slight rewind to earlier in the day, Mr. Jenner went off to the east-side to have his hair cut and to pick up bread from the bakery we like. I was just there about a week and a half ago and everything seemed busy and dandy. This morning Mr. Jenner shows up and the shop is empty and shut and there is a notice that a French bakery is going in. A bit odd eh? He goes to the bakery's Mercer Island shop and lo... the same thing. What the heck??? Mr. Jenner has lived in this country over six years, finally finds a bread that tastes like the stuff he had at home in England and the bastards up and leave in the middle of the night like gypsies.
The hunt for half-way decent bread begins yet again.
I came home and put up with the Blue Angels flying over. Senor Onion was out in the garden, watering the strawberry plants (though doing a better job of watering his own feet) when the formation flew right over the house. It scared the shit out of the poor kid. He ran up the steps and came screaming into the dining room -holding tightly onto his little watering can. Thanks Blue Angels. Thanks a fucking lot. I calmed him down but he obviously lost his love of those jets.
I had some left-over tomatoes from yesterday that were pretty ripe so I canned them. I picked basil and oregano from the yard. I tossed in that and garlic into the jars and then added the tomatoes and some water, salt and lemon juice. I was influenced by stuff my Mom has done. I call it Genovese tomatoes. Because fancy names are important.
Tomorrow I think I will get around to making blueberry spice jam.
Dinner was prosciutto tortellini with a chevre and garlic bechamel sauce. Plus the usual salad. We live in exciting times at Chez Anglo-America.
Right now the A-list gays who live two doors down are having a party. When they have a party it involves well-sculpted pretty gay men wearing no shirts, possibly a cowboy hat or two. Plus there are tiki-torches and thumping dance hall music. They also sip rather tony cocktails. It isn't like I have binoculars or a spyglass but we have a window that looks directly into their yard and this floor of our house is set a bit higher so we can watch A-list gays mingle and listen to Madonna. It is better than cable. They also have adorable fluffy retriever dogs. Whenever I see them on the sidewalk I just want to go up and ruffle their fur. The dogs. Not the gays. Though who knows, maybe ruffling the fur of gay men is fun too. But I am sure they wouldn't appreciate me doing that. "Okay crazy neighbor lady."
I want to go to the market tomorrow and buy spices and some garlic. I freaking ran out of garlic. I never do that.
Tomorrow there is the weekly video call with Senor Onion's Nana. I am sure most of the talk will be about the new cousins. We told him the names and said, "Can you say Ella?" and he did an impression of an elephant. *snorts* And when we said, "Can you say Grace?" he said Grape.
So he has cousins named Elephant and Grape. It turns out that Ella and Grace are identical twins. For now they wear different colored hats. When they are older someone should mark them with a pen or something so we can tell them apart.
Now it is time to watch a movie and eat dessert.
