Sunday, August 2, 2009
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
Moving On
www.myfirstkitchen.net
Thanks for reading!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
I've Made a Breakthrough
Scheduled from 8am-12pm, the first people showed up at 6:53am. Good thing I was up. We sold almost everything we had. Seriously. We were really excited. Kaz and I sat in little chairs and spent the morning in regular yardsale fashion. We had a great time. It was fun to listen to him talk to the Spanish-speaking shoppers and answer questions. The best was when he turned to me to ask a question... in Spanish. Yeah, I don't speak Spanish. He does that at his parents' house too when Japanese is the main language spoken. I don't speak Japanese either.
We made about three times more than we thought we would, and the only awkward exchange was with a woman who wanted a container full of yarn for $0.25 even though I asked for $1.00. I dropped to $0.50 and she still wouldn't budge. She didn't end up buying, but... we think she sent her friend to buy it. They had the same it's-for-a-lady-at-church-who-knits-things-for-shut-ins story. I think that's a beautiful thing, to spend time ministering to people who are forgotten. But really, tagteaming over a quarter? A little nutty. And it was a lot of great yarn! Whatever. I'm over it...
Here's the breakthrough. Kaz and I loaded up the car with the items we had left and IMMEDIATELY drove to Goodwill to donate what didn't sell. Get out. I had stuff in this yardsale leftover from one we had three years ago. I made a vow this time though to not let any of it back in the house. I didn't follow through totally; the index card holder will probably come in handy eventually. But it's all gone! All the VHS tapes and tiny window blinds and sad looking dresses I wore in 8th grade. All gone. This is a big. I'm proud of myself.
Now I'll have to avoid the temptation of going yardsaling next weekend and doing the junk fill-up again. Chasing my tail, man...
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Drumroll, Please...
It's time!
My new cooking class schedule is up! And my site looks a little different! And I'm really excited about teaching new stuff! And I hope you check it out!
Yay FOOD!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Cha-Ching!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Grab a Good Thing
Oh, and if you're in the market for a house or know someone who is, my friend's house is for sale and not at all dusty.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
My Katie Holmes Face
How great is this?!?! Wanna play? You know you do. You can do a morph, see what celebrities you look like, see what celebrities your kids look like... so many great options. Just wanted to share the fun. Okay, I'm going to go morph into Queen Latifah now. Yep, she and I have 71% similar features. Go figure.
And just for you, Emily, Martina McBride didn't make the cut. I know, right?
MyHeritage: Celebrity Morph - Family reunion - Draw family tree
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Classically Challenged
I'm sitting at a desk, taking business cards from people rolling their luggage from showroom to showroom, trying to identify the different accents, and trying even harder to figure out what state MT is. (I had to look it up when the people left my desk - Montana.)
It's not a bad gig. The people are really nice, the coffee is good, and I have my laptop to play with.
Here's the thing. I feel DECIDEDLY less fashionable than these people. These furniture buyers are coming from all over... New York, California, Colorado... and most of them are dressed quite well. One girl just walked by me in the cutest little tunic that I've ever seen. Actually, I've never seen it. I guess it's a new fashion that hasn't hit Target yet.
I usually do a pretty good job of not getting freaked out by my "classic" fashion sense, aka I'm wearing a shirt I bought in high school. But, oh my goodness, I'm starting to feel a little freaked out that right now I'm wearing a shirt I bought in high school! My mom says that means I'm a good shopper, that I choose things that are timeless. But I don't feel timeless. I feel boring and a little faded. I don't think my shirt has holes, but I can't be entirely sure. And the jeans I'm wearing are the only ones I own without a hole or frayed bottoms. It's slightly awkward.
Holy cow, will someone PLEASE take me shopping?
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Distractions
My team is down by 17 points at halftime to stupid Kansas. I seriously am having chest pains. This performance is embarrassing.
Kaz and I had a conversation a few days ago about how important it was to us to have our kids like sports. We don't have any yet, so we can totally imagine these things. We looked at taste in friends, taste in food, taste in music, or taste in sports. Our lists were slightly different. Of course friends was first. I would so much rather my kids make good choices in their friends and only eat blue-box mac'n'cheese and listen to Daniel Powter while watching old people do pairs' figure skating.
But oh my goodness. A kid without a pallette? A kid who doesn't appreciate songwriters? A kid who doesn't love March Madness? That's tough. You know, I realize these words really mean nothing. I'm just trying to distract myself from this game. And for the record, I'm totally going to love my kids whatever they're into... unless it's puppy-killing or Jessica Simpson.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Smells Like Teen Something
I flipped on Ellen while I was hanging out in my bedroom, and the Jonas Brothers were performing. Now, for those of you unfamiliar with the Jonas Brothers, let me fill you in (on the tidbits of info I just off Wikipedia).
There are three Jonas brothers... well, actually four, but the fourth doesn't want to be in the band. Tsk tsk. They have quickly risen to the top of Teen Girl World with their ballads and cute? looks and their friendship with Miley Cyrus on Hannah Montana. Middle brother, Joe (I think he's the one in the middle), has a balance problem; he's taken a couple of hospital-requiring spills during performances in the last few months, and younger brother, Nick (on the left), has diabetes. Not sure why Wiki wanted us to know that. They have a show set to debut on the Disney Channel soon called J.O.N.A.S. (Junior Operatives Networking As Spies) where they play - you guessed it! - undercover spy kids. How long did it take the network execs to come up with that one? And they've done a cover of the song "Poor Unfortunate Souls" from The Little Mermaid. That's almost as bad as hearing a Weepies song on Laguna Beach. (Okay, my mom is TOTALLY lost right now.)
So back to Ellen. They're performing on this huge outdoor stage in Orlando, and there are TONS and TONS of little adolescent girls screaming their faces off for these boys. Here's what disturbed me. The camera panned across the front row of these girls just crammed in like... I don't know... something worse than sardines, and one girl (you ready?) had her eyes closed and her hands raised like she was in church. The girl beside her was singing and waving her hands and crying like that Sanjaya girl last season on Idol. The next one was reaching out as far as she could to get as close as possible to these boys, even though whatever Jonas brother was in front was a good fifty feet away. I mean straining with all her might; she looked pained.
Deep breath, Kendra. I just don't know how I feel about this. Wait, yes I do. I feel sick. I remember being fifteen.
I loved Hanson. I cut out pictures of Brad Pitt and Dean Cain (yes, Dean Cain... hot in the Lois and Clark days) and put them in a little notebook. I took a picture of the TV when I was watching The Outsiders (I'm old school) just so I could always have Rob Lowe with me. All I got was a picture of the flash glaring on the screen. How did we live before the Internet? But I don't remember worshipping these people. Maybe I did. It was a long time ago. But it really makes me sad to see these little girls put so much emotion into something that's so fading.
The Jonas Brothers will be hairy and lumpy and not-so-nasally in no time, and there's no way that they can take every one of those girls to their next middle school dance, even if there are three of them. I just feel sorry for these girls. I guess I'm naive. I want them to love books and ponies and board games and making muffins with their moms and giving each other makeovers with old blue eyeshadow and a crimper. Now they all have cell phones and booty shorts and boyfriends and attitudes. Okay, not all of them. I realize I'm disparaging every female under the age of sixteen with this diatribe, but I don't mean to. I just wish things were the way they used to be.
Did I just say that? I guess that clinches it; I'm officially old. And the running count for pop culture references in this post: 15.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Merry Christmas '06
Yes, I have a list. And I'm not embarrassed to say that it's my top 250. In order. Yeah, I said it.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
My Best Friend
I really like spending time with my husband.
This is us at Christmas (what gave it away?), but it's one of the only pictures of us around. Anyway, he's on spring break this week, so we get an entire week of hanging out. Sure, today I worked on the new MFK website (coming soon!) and Kaz spend a couple of hours napping, but we were in the same room and got to smile at each other all day. He's a blast to be with, and we honestly don't ever get tired of each other. It's actually never happened. I consider myself one lucky wife.
I really like spring break.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Maybe I'll Open a Window
On the couch. Watching basketball. Still in my pajamas. People are coming over for dinner in two hours. I really should get going. Really.
I should stop complaining that I'm pale. Apparently the sun does come out sometimes.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Datsa Spicy Meat-uh-ballah
I'm not a food critic. I'm not here to break down the cleanliness (it was clean) and the wait staff (very friendly and attentive) and the wine list (I know the difference between red and white). I just like to talk about good food when I eat it. So here it is.
The classic bread and olive oil combo at the start was really good. Crusty but not break-a-tooth bread and nice, spicy deep green olive oil. We ordered the gnocchi to start, and it was awesome. Gnocchi are Italian potato dumpling pasta things. The right texture is difficult to achieve, but these spinach gnocchi were deliciously tender, baked in a cheese sauce with gorgonzola cheese. So unexpected but really good. The caesar salad was nice and simple, and the house salad at the other end of the table looked really fresh. Everyone at our table was pretty happy with the entrees. My mother-in-law and I definitely got the best thing on the menu. Actually, it was a daily special not on the menu (but they always have it... go figure) - lightly pan-fried sea scallops in a butter white wine sauce with creamy spinach and angel hair. Shut-up, people. It was delicious. And even though we all needed assistance getting out of the restaurant, we still got a piece of cake to share - a lemoncello cake filled with mascarpone cheese. You can't see me, but I'm totally shaking my head right now since THERE ARE NO WORDS. I'd go just for the cake.
A few bucks more per person than grilling macaroni or gardening for olives, but it's definitely worth trying. Salvino Cucina Italiana on Battleground Ave. in the Big Lots shopping center next to the Jackson Hewitt. Yeah, I know. I didn't think they had restaurants there either.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Point, Shoot, Eat
Considering it's just a glorified point-and-shoot camera, I think they're okay! Are you hungry? If they don't make you hungry, they're not good enough. I need watering mouths, churning stomachs, perhaps even a moan or two. That's when I know my pictures have arrived.
Okay, I'll keep working on it.
A Melancholy Goodbye
This magazine has practically been my domestic lifeblood since I started receiving it a couple of years ago. All of the recipes and the product reviews and the lists of things to have in your pantry, closet, bathroom, and car trunk. Indispensable information.
But last week I realized something. I am no longer the targeted RS reader. I don't have an iPhone. I don't buy tea in decorative tins. I don't splurge on a $1200 handbag. I don't send Christmas cards (much less the $42 for a box of six kind). I don't tip my mail carrier $50 on National Post Office Day. I don't buy organic produce. I don't care about mixing modern furniture with beautiful antiques. I'm not an account executive or pottery thrower. I don't host spring tea parties for my girlfriends. I don't consider Crate&Barrel my "bargain" store. And I don't vacation in Botswana. For real. That's where RS told me to go on vacation.
I wear t-shirts. I watch college basketball on a non-plasma TV. I buy wine that costs less than ten dollars, and I keep it way longer than I should. I don't have texting on my cell phone. I sleep in non-matching pajamas. I haven't purchased a swimsuit in three years. I buy groceries at Walmart. I don't wear heels or wedges or espadrilles. I still use Lysol and Clorox to clean my house. I don't own a sundress. I don't give hostess gifts. I have taken one for-real vacation since my honeymoon, and I've been married five and a half years.
I just don't think I fit the mold anymore. In some ways, I like that. I'm unique and will no longer be influenced when RS tells me to spray my hair with color serum to preserve shine and vibrance. But then again, no longer being relevant feels like I'm the ugly step-sister. I'm invited to family functions, but no one will talk to me or compliment me on my outfit.
This is the end of an era. Like when Joey and Chandler didn't live together anymore. Sad but necessary. So goodbye, Real Simple. Thanks for trying to improve my life with $75 umbrellas and a life coach who taught me to prioritize my dreams. I'll miss you.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Open Mouth. Insert VERY LARGE Foot.
I got a phone call at dinner (with the lovely almost Mr. and Mrs. Stagner), and the caller ID said Melody Watson. Kaz and I both looked at the name on the phone, shrugged, and Kaz answered. Apparently Melody wanted to talk to me. Here's how the conversation went...
Me: "Hello?"
Her: "Hi, Kendra! This is Melody Watson!"
M: Who the heck is Melody Watson? "Hi, Melody! How are you?"
H: "I'm great! Do you have a minute to talk?"
M: Talk about what? "Well, we actually have some friends over right now, but go ahead and give me the quick version to get us going!"
H: Well, you didn't have to answer the phone if you have friends over. [I'm just assuming that's what she thought because that's what I would've thought.] "Sure! I was just calling to see if Monday was still a good time for you?"
M: Umm, what? "Monday... Monday... let me check my planner!" Oh my goodness, I hope I have something written down in my planner to let me know who this person is. Sigh. Crap. Monday's blank. No clues. "Well, I think Monday should work. Umm... remind me why we're getting together?" [Yes, I really said that.]
H: "You wanted my help on your website! I'm the Squarespace consultant that worked with your mom?"
M: Holy cow, I'm a moron. "Ooooh! Melody! Oh my goodness, the name just didn't click. Yes, Monday is great!"
H: "Wow, you're good! That was really subtle. I had no idea you didn't know who I was!"
Okay, friends, I'm saving you some work. If you don't know the name on the caller ID, pretend you're not home and trust that the message left on the answering machine will give you a hint. Not everyone will be nice and friendly when you carry on a conversation not knowing who they are! Fortunately, Melody was.
Thanks, Melody. I'm glad we can start off our professional relationship with a little humor. And I will never forget your name again.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
A Simple Sneeze
So to recap: I sneezed a really good sneeze, thought about the 3rd Rock sneeze comment, and thought about all of the other things that were great the first time and have just lost their zing, possibly by no fault of their own.
Do you remember the first time you were tickled? The first slice of pizza you ever ate? Your first trip to the beach? Granted, all of those things probably happened when you were three years old, but cut me some slack.
Maybe you're good at living in the moment, but I'm not always. My challenge for myself is to look at things like they're happening for the first time. Even a good sneeze can be something special. So take a minute, appreciate whatever's happening, and... gezundheidt.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Canada Kendra
She lives in Edmonton, Canada. She takes pictures and is friends with some guy named Tyler who likes to pose in his underwear. She's single and a cashier at the T-Bo. I don't know what that is exactly. Maybe a grocery store or Canada's version of Walgreens.
I honestly didn't think another Kendra Adachi existed. Maybe that's conceited, but I have good reason! My first name is fairly unique. My last name is really unique (at least in the US). The combination of the two (I thought) was singular. Now I find there's another one, taking pictures and money somewhere in Canada.
I wonder if she's nice. I wonder if she likes her mom. I wonder if she enjoys cooking and eating. I sort of want her to give Kendra Adachi a good name. Okay, that does sound conceited. It's her name, too. She can be whatever Kendra Adachi she wants to be. It got me thinking though, and isn't that what a blog is for?
We represent ourselves by what we do, but when we follow Christ, we represent Him even more. We should honor the name of Jesus and not do anything to lessen that name in any way. It's the greatest name there is, and I have the privilege of being a reflection of His love, an ambassador for Jesus, for the Savior of the world. His name is the only name that matters. Mine becomes less and less as His becomes more and more. I feel so relieved by that. That takes so much pressure off of me, off my need to prove the truth. Thank God that the truth isn't contigent on me or on my name.
I hope Canada Kendra loves Jesus.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Your Favorites
What's your standby ingredient that is always in your kitchen? What do you love to cook with? Or better yet, what do you love to eat?
I want to focus on dishes that use popular, easy-to-use ingredients, so help me figure out what those are!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Soundtracks
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
My Favorite Day
So why am I sharing this? I have no idea. I'm just happy right now! I just ate a tasty lunch, I'm warm and comfy in my pajamas, I'm working but it's mindless, I'm halfway watching season three of LOST, and I am deeply loved. It's just really nice.
I like this kind of day.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
A Great Uncle
I told him I'd start my blog that way. Who knows if he'll actually read it. Still, I'm a woman of my word. So here's a post dedicated to my Uncle Rex.
He's my grandpa's brother, so I guess that makes him my great uncle. He is that... a great uncle. You know those people that you just feel totally comfortable with even if you don't see them but once every year? It's like Anne Shirley looking for her kindred spirit. I found one of very few in Uncle Rex.
My grandpa has been in the hospital for the last month going through triple bypass surgery and subsequent surgeries and therapies to help him recover. Over the four weeks, I've only gone a couple of times, but every time I've gone, Uncle Rex has been there. He sits and waits. Even on days where seeing my grandpa is hours away, he sits and waits. He's quiet and consistent, and silence is okay. And he's got my website in his favorites on his computer which I think is sweet.
And he teases. Goodness, does he tease. He loves to take little jabs at people he likes. Today I opened an issue of Entertainment Weekly in the waiting room, and Uncle Rex said, "You can read?" He does that. He loves to tease. But that's one of the reasons why I love him. I love that when he questions my mom's cooking ability and work ethic, he's really saying that he respects the woman she is. I love that when he tells me to keep my mom in line, he's really saying that he likes the fact that my mom and I love each other and love each other well. I'm glad he teases me, because it means he likes me. And I sure do like him.
So, Uncle Rex, if you're reading this, I did what I said. I wrote about you in my blog. I hope none of the words are too big for you.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Restaurant Review
I was going to cook, but you know how it goes (or try and remember how it went pre-kids). You have a dinner plan; ours was baked potatoes and salad. Not the most exciting thing, I know, but it works on days I don't feel like cooking (yes, there are days I don't feel like cooking). Somehow though, baked potatoes didn't seem like the fun Friday night dinner young couples unsaddled with families are supposed to have. So we went to Target. Not to eat. To buy shaving cream and dish soap and to think about what we wanted to eat.
Quick note on the dish soap. I almost got the "green" version to help save the environment a little. I picked up a bottle of Seventh Generation, took a whiff, quickly put it back on the shelf, and grabbed a bottle of good ol' Dawn. Stuff smelled like old dish water with a few lavender petals thrown in. Gross. I'll have to figure out another way to save the planet. Okay, back to dinner.
So we thought walking around Target would inspire a dinner plan; it did not. We sat in the parking lot for a couple of minutes throwing out ideas. Nothing. We don't eat out much, so we wanted to make this meal count; we take our food seriously. We landed on Napoli, a little Italian place on State St. that's actually quite good. We went there for lunch a couple of months ago and decided then we wanted to try it for dinner sometime. Was tonight that sometime? For four and a half minutes, it was.
Then sitting at the intersection of Cornwallis and Elm, we had a brainwave. We've always wanted to try Fincastle's! It's a little burger joint on Elm St. downtown that's been open for a couple of years. Now a word about downtown... Kaz and I don't feel cool enough for downtown. There are restaurants we want to try and we realize we're the last people in Greensboro to have never gone to the Greenbean (one word or two?), but Kaz's glasses aren't cool enough, my coat is too "soccer mom," and we definitely don't walk like we know what we're doing or where we're going. But despite all of those anxiety-producing facts, we decided to try Fincastle's. So glad we did.
It's a little narrow restaurant with maybe ten tables and a long counter. They serve perfectly simple burgers, freakishly awesome onion rings, and ice cream that I will try the next time we go. The service was casual and prompt, the decor was fun and diner-y, and the food kept us from talking for awhile because we just kept cramming it in. We liked that there were kids and older folks and college kids (and us) in the same restaurant. The jukebox makes the place a little throw-back. The prices are great. We got burgers with fries/onion rings, Kaz got a soda, and it was just under $14. Sure, you have to leave a tip on top of that, but that's just a buck or two more than dinner for us at Panera. Totally worth it. And parking in the deck a block over is free at night.
So go to Fincastle's. It's fun no matter who you are. And seriously... get the onion rings.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Words.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
In Good Company
My favorite part of watching Persuasion was listening to my friend Kate watch Persuasion.
The dashing male lead character is named Captain Frederick Wentworth... sounds so noble. He's not supposed to be crazy hot or anything like Mr. Darcy or Frank Churchill, but he should be fairly nice to look at. Well, I think Kate thought he met the hotness quota.
The guy playing Wentworth was named Rupert Penry-Jones... sounds even more noble. Everytime he came on the screen, my friend would sigh or say under her breath (or very loudly), "Oh my goodness, he's just so beautiful!" Yes, he's cute; she's not telling a lie. But I had such a good time watching the movie, hoping that Wentworth would appear, not to move the story along but to hear what Kate would say about him.
Today's lesson learned from Austen? I recommend watching movies with friends. If I had watched it by myself, I would've enjoyed the story and moved on. Watching it with Kate gave it another dimension that brought a lot more joy than without. So grab a friend, pop some popcorn, and set your DVR for this Sunday at 9pm on PBS... Mansfield Park is on.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Risotto Therapy
Here's a recipe if you want to give it a try. This will make two huge bowls or four regular ones.
First heat up 7 cups of chicken stock in a saucepan. That's just shy of two boxes of stock. Keep it at a low simmer while you make the risotto. Dice a small yellow or white onion into pretty small pieces, season with a pinch or two of salt and pepper, and cook it in about three tablespoons of butter over medium-low heat in a heavy-bottomed pot for about three minutes. Stir the onions every 45 seconds or so so they don't get too brown. Lower the heat to low, and stir in two cups of risotto (also known as arborio) rice. Stir it constantly for about two minutes, and make sure that every grain gets coated with some butter. Pour in one cup of white wine (this is when you pour yourself a glass, too), and stir for about a minute. Now comes the fun part! Get a ladle, and pour in the hot stock one ladle at a time, stirring constantly over medium-low heat. Don't pour the next ladle in until the liquid from the first has been absorbed. You basically want to see the bottom of the pan when you stir before adding anymore. So take your time with the ladles of stock. It will get creamy and translucent and decadent. Once all of the stock has been absorbed, stir in about a cup of freshly grated Parmesan cheese (please... don't use the green plastic can stuff), a half a cup or a good handful of chopped Italian parsley (the curly kind doesn't have the same flavor), and the zest (the yellow part of the lemon peel - use a grater or better yet a Microplane to get it off) and juice of one lemon. Season it with a little more salt and pepper, and immediately pour into shallow bowls and serve. Risotto isn't the same if it sits, so do your best to eat it right away.
Enjoy the calming effects of risotto, friends. It's cooking therapy at its best.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
They're Just Like Us
I must admit that I'm sad about it. I love award shows. They're the perfect combination of celebrity and list-making. The nominees, the winners, the best and worst dressed, and the hope of a show of the Top 100 Red Carpet Mishaps on E!. It's fun. Silly, but fun.
One of the reasons I dislike celebrities though is how perfect they all look all the time. I mean, PERFECT. Flawless skin, amazing proportions, and they always seem to have their own lighting crew following them around. But I recently happened upon a website (once you're there, click on portfolio) posted by my friend, Emily, that made it all better. They're not all perfect. Not even close. Just look at the pictures. (You actually have to click on and off the pictures to see the difference. And what a difference, let me tell you.)
I'm not perfect either though. Well, that's obvious, but I mean none of us are perfect... in anything. We fail all the time, even those we love more (or hope to love more) than ourselves. It's part of life, but it's in those imperfections that we realize we are absolutely nothing without Jesus. NOTHING. We're beautiful to Him, and His blood has made us righteous. So awesome. So let that be a reminder to all of you trying-to-be-perfect-people out there; no one is perfect, not even celebrities. And better yet, there's a God whose perfection is all you'll ever need.
Okay, I'm going to go back and look at how they edited out the creases on Naomi Watts' thumb.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Culinary Risks
Chipotle in adobo. Say it with me (chi-POLT-le in uh-DO-bo).
They're smoked jalapeno peppers, and they're spicy and taste a little like barbecue sauce (hence the smoked part). I chopped one of them up and threw it in the crockpot with the chicken, black beans, rice, salsa, chopped onion, some spices, and water. The chipotle pepper gave it a nice smoky kick, and I highly suggest you try one. I also learned that when cooking with chipotles, combine it with something sweet. I didn't have anything sweet in my crockpot, and next time I'll throw in some canned tomatoes instead of salsa (didn't need the extra kick) and some frozen corn. That should be just enough sweetness to balance the smoky spice.
Here's another idea; I haven't tried it yet, so don't get mad if it isn't good. Throw the following in a gallon plastic bag: chicken breasts or thighs cut into small pieces, a chopped chipotle, the juice from a lime, a squeeze of honey, about a half a teaspoon of cumin, a quick drizzle of canola oil, and a couple pinches of salt. Squeeze out the air, seal the bag, and mush it all together. Let that hang out in the fridge for about thirty minutes. Cook the chicken over medium-high heat in a nonstick pan (the honey will be a beast to get off otherwise), stirring pretty frequently until the chicken is done. It'll probably take about four or five minutes. You can serve the chicken on some lettuce with some mild salsa and cheese or wrap it up in a flour tortilla with some lettuce, cheese, sour cream, salsa, or whatever you want. It would also probably be pretty good thrown together with some pasta, fresh tomato, and fresh cilantro.
Okay, there you go. Go grab a can of chipotle in adobo sauce. You can find a can (yes, a can) at any grocery store in the international foods aisle with the Mexican ingredients. And now that you know how to say it, asking for help won't be a problem.
Happy cooking.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Counter Space
I need a bigger kitchen.
Monday, December 24, 2007
This Is Why I Love Christmas
On the ride home, groaning from that last piece of German chocolate cake and a few too many bites of crab dip, I thought about my family. Sure, we've had problems; every family does. But tonight, I realized how much I really like them. They're sweet people, and they're mine. My grandpa said it best: "I'm just glad you're my family."
Agreed.
And the four Bingo envelopes didn't hurt anything either...
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Words from Indigo
I make lists about everything. I make lists about what I should make lists about. I document how well I did on sticking with my list and berate myself if I didn't completely follow through. Everything is quantified and justified and rationalized. Then the guilt starts.
In all honesty, it's not terribly calming to live life where you experience some measure of guilt everyday from self-inflicted tasks and self-inflicted consequences. It's pretty exhausting actually. I'm tired of being the drill sergeant to myself... and yelling in my own face has proven to be quite difficult. I've lived my whole life that way, and it's a tough habit to break. I don't leave myself any room to fail. And anything close to not doing what I arbitrarily intended equals failure. But there's no real reason for it. None.
The one place where I seem to allow myself freedom to fail is in my kitchen. When I cook, I can't go wrong. Sure, I make food that doesn't taste as good as I had hoped, but I don't beat myself up over it. I laugh, eat it anyway, and think about the next thing I get to cook. Why do I give myself such freedom with food? I don't experience that anywhere else, and that's the feeling I want to transcend my life and everything in it.
The irony here is that by writing these words, I'm making a serious situation out of taking myself too seriously. Can't I just move on from a problem without documentation? Ask the twenty-seven journals I have in various drawers around my house; right now, their answer is a clear no.
The best thing you'd ever done for me/Is to help me take my life less seriously/
It's only life after all
-Closer to Fine, Indigo Girls
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Dirty Dishes
I've cleaned my kitchen so many times; my mom and sister often laugh at the fact that I'm either cooking or cleaning up what I recently cooked every time they call me. My dirty kitchen doesn't really scare me. But today was different; this kitchen very much scared me. I wandered aimlessly, circling my island several times with no real purpose. I was moving just to feel like I was doing something, and that strategy doesn't accomplish much. I'd throw away a crumpled napkin but ignore the three right next to it. I'd rinse a dish and put it in a dishwasher that was full of clean dishes. I'd try and wipe down a counter that still had dirty plates on it. I'd put food back in the refrigerator... one item at a time. I seriously think I opened the door to the fridge a dozen times in a ninety second span.
My life was once like that. I had so much clutter and so many dirty dishes in my life, and I had no idea where to start. Which emotions do I take care of first? What wounds do I tend to before others? What relationships need to be put on the shelf and which ones should stay out for everyday use? That's a bad metaphor, but you get the idea (hopefully). I was trying to clean my kitchen on my own, but instead I just wandered, always moving and doing in the hopes that movement gave the illusion of progress.
I managed to get focused on my real kitchen but still didn't want to deal with it. Then my sweet husband came over to the sink, took over the cleaning, and sent me to the couch to sit down and read Real Simple. He does things like that. And it got me thinking...
Recently I realized that I can't do anything on my own. Not one thing. My Savior is the only one who can clean up my mess, and the crazy thing is that He wants to. He's like my husband, taking over because He knows that the best thing for me is to just let Him do it. He knows what I need, He knows who I am, and unlike my husband who just stacks the clean dishes on the counter, Jesus knows where everything goes. He's not overwhelmed by my clutter; in fact, He welcomes my weakness because it shows how strong He really is. His weakest point is still better than my strongest, and let's be honest... He doesn't have any weak points. There's no reason not to trust Him with my mess, especially when He's proven over and over and over again that He knows exactly what to do with it.
My kitchen is clean now (thanks, honey), and I'm still enjoying my Real Simple. It's full of Best of '07 lists... it can't get much better. Well, yeah it can. Remembering my Jesus in the context of clean kitchens and Real Simple is definitely better.
Friday, December 7, 2007
My Tree
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Settling for the Just
One of the girls is struggling with choosing a career... and she has only six days of college class left in her college education. She told my friend and me that she "just wants to be a wife and a mom," but people at her school don't look favorably upon that decision, especially since she's really intelligent and capable of doing so many things. My friend who is just a wife and a mom said something to the effect of, "Just is not 'just.'" In other words, just doing something sounds like we're settling for what's here even though there's something better beyond.
That really got me thinking. I don't want to just do anything. I don't want to just be a wife. I don't want to just teach small cooking classes in my house. I don't want to just work with high school kids at my church. God didn't create me to just do stuff. "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart as working for the Lord, not for men." I'm working for my Father and bringing Him glory in what I do, just by being. Just by living. Just by allowing Jesus to live His life through me. So I'm a wife. I teach people how to cook. I spend time with high school kids because I like them. And I let Jesus do it all and get all the glory.
That is as far away from settling as I know to get.
Monday, November 19, 2007
The Calm Before the Storm
I don't have kids yet, but I'm not an idiot; I know that life with kids in no way resembles life without kids. I personally think that's awesome. Kids are fabulous. They're little pint-sized truth-tellers walking around with adorable curls that look cute even when they're frizzy and untamed. They're also completely exhausting; just ask my friend Emily who can't get her kid to poop in the potty. It's a crisis, and that's not to be funny. Life changes. Life changes a lot.
So what do you think the night before The Change? Do you sit around and watch Amazing Race and eat popcorn like usual? Do you walk around the house and take pictures of everything as it appears this very moment to document for eternity? Do you try and have a date with your husband since you'll never have one again until Date Night becomes part of...ahem... regular life (which never seems to happen terribly quickly)? Or do you do what I think I'd probably do and just sit on the couch and stare into space, afraid out of your mind?
Well, My Pregnant Friend, whatever you're doing this night, I know you're going to be a great mom. Go ahead and stare and be afraid, but remember that you're only a mother by the power of the greatest Father ever.
Friday, November 16, 2007
The Love-Hate Relationship
Wrong.
My love affair with winter has suddenly turned sour. I'm freezing cold right now. Freeeeeezing. The closest thing I've achieved to being cozy is huddling in a surprisingly small ball on the couch wrapped in a fleece blanket (filled with static, of course), afraid to move a muscle because I'll hit a "cold spot" on the couch or the blanket. I can't hold a mug because then my hands would be exposed to the elements. Oh, and my lips are chattering, too. I'm still wearing t-shirts. Now they just have a long-sleeved shirt underneath them. Not the cute seasonal makeover I was hoping for. And Thanksgiving is next week, and all I can think about is that I haven't done any Christmas shopping, I'm going to be 26 in five weeks (which totally weirds me out), one of my best friends is having a baby in four days, I have six weeks to plan and execute a New Year's Eve party for 150 high school kids, and I've started a new business that's beginning to pick up some speed. Oh, and I can't successfully shave my legs between October and March because of the crazy chill bumps that won't go away.
I'm losing my mind. And I'm starting to hate winter. But I don't want to! I still love the romantic idea of it, and frankly if I tell my husband (he's basically a sun worshipper) that I'm down on winter, he wins the argument of which season is best... and I am NOT about to lay that one down without a fight, even if I can't feel my fingers right now.
So, Winter, please woo me back! Remind me of hot chocolate and the fun of giving and staying in bed a few more minutes because it's so warm and cold noses that don't run and the smell of snow and how fun it is that my husband gets to be home for days at a time over the holidays. I want this relationship to work, Winter. Don't give up on me.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Pearly Whites
It made me wonder... is my mouth so used to not smiling for six hours in a row that it causes pain? Am I not a smiler? I like to think that I'm a nice person, at least with strangers. I'm pretty intentional about being nice to cashiers and servers and toll booth ticket-takers and anyone who might not get kind interaction on a regular basis. (I haven't quite extended to telemarketers yet, but I'm working on it.) Anyway, I hate to think that I can't smile for six hours without doing awkward facial-stretching exercises.
Smiling is such a big deal to me. It's one of my favorite things about my husband. It makes me feel approachable to people. It's a way to encourage others without much effort. More than that though, I want it to communicate that there's something bigger in me that causes joy. I have a fabulous reason for smiling, a reason I want others to experience. I have Jesus living in me, and that's why I want to smile. Most of the time, that's why I do smile. And I don't remember those smiles causing pain.
So maybe at my mom's next show, I should think again about why I'm smiling. It doesn't have to be fake and just because I'm trying to sell clocks. Jesus is in me all the time, and He loves everyone He sees. That means I need to love on everyone I see, and that all starts with a smile.
Friday, November 9, 2007
I like her.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Forgotten Sombrero
This morning while I was putting away laundry (a household chore that I LOATHE) I saw lying on the closet floor... a sombrero. I had a tiny pity party as I stood in the closet with an arm full of towels. I was going to have Mom wear the sombrero at least for a little bit during the party and then use it as a fabulous decoration that would drive home the theme... just in case the music and food and the singing of Happy Birthday in Spanish weren't clear enough. I was so bummed, and then I had a thought. The sombrero would not have made the night any better.
Not to sound cliche, but it's not what you serve or how you decorate or how much you plan. The best part of entertaining is just being with people you love... and it helps if you like them, too. My family and I laughed together over everything from Oprah's immune system to how my sister performed a personal version of Riverdance at her own birthday party. Those kinds of things can in no way be enhanced by sizzling table-side food and the forgotten sombrero.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
The Wedding Day
Don't get me wrong; weddings are favulous. My own wedding was perfect. The ceremony was beautiful, everything went off without a hitch, and minus a tiny candle wax burn on my hand, nothing even remotely tragic happened. At the reception, we were surrounded by so many people that we love, the food was fantastic, and I love looking back at the pictures that perfectly capture the day. But that wasn't the best day of my life.
The wedding is just a party to celebrate the most amazing journey of your life. If your expectations for your wedding are higher than the ones you have for your marriage, I want to tell you that your relationship deserves better than that. Marriage is phenomenal. It's ridiculously hard, but every single day is better than the one before. When you selflessly love the one you're with and allow them to love you back, the result is a relationship that makes you smile at your wedding day as a sweet memory but look ahead at the years to come with more anticipation than satin and canapes could ever bring.
Sigh. I love my husband.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
The Best Pans Ever
During a recent venture into Sunday paper advertisements, I saw a sale on Calphalon Contemporary Nonstick skillets. Never being one to shy away from cookware sales, I pulled the trigger and splurged on a couple. Wow. I am SO glad I did.
I didn't know that magic pans existed, but these are magic. They wipe clean like nothing I've ever seen. You can have a crusty burn that sits around for three days (yes, I've let my pans sit that long), and one dunk in soapy water and a wipe or two makes it look like new. Amazing. They cook evenly, the handles are sturdy, and they look sleek and professional.
So if you're in the market for some new cookware, I am apparently the new cheerleader for Calphalon Contemporary Nonstick Cookware. Now I need to go and clean my pans. It's only been a day, but I guess I don't have to test the three-day theory every time. Sad...
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Guilty Pleasures
I'm 25 years old, and tonight I'm going to see So You Think You Can Dance on tour. There are ten of us: seven college girls, one high school girl, me, and one of my equally embarrassed peers. We're even making shirts with cute little sayings from the show. I give you permission to shake your head in pity.
Am I too old for this? I think so, but for the next few hours, I don't care. I'm going to stand in a stadium with thousands of screaming teenage girls and yell, "I love you, Neil!" who happens to be my favorite dancer on the show. I'm going to look at the people around us and compare displays of fanaticism. I'm going to watch the DVD I made of my favorite dances from the season (yes, I made a DVD) before AND after the show to get the onslaught of reality-show dancing.
Yes, I'm going to bask in the joy that is a guilty pleasure.