Dinner at Eight

OK, so more domestic chatter...
I am a good cook.  A VERY good cook.  I have to preface this post with that to save face a bit.  For a recent meal, I caved to popular opinion and purchased a meat thermometer to use on my planned dinner entree. I have to say that I never under cook, or worse, overcook food despite not ever using a meat thermometer, except for that time I got way too drunk on Thanksgiving and cooked the turkey for about three hours more than it needed...(Hello, Domino's?).  But, I decided to use one as I was feeding people who preferred their beef cooked a bit more than me and Man and Boy do, and it was a pretty big roast, so I wasn't exactly sure about the timing.  On the day of my dinner party, I did all the prep work and created an aromatic dry rub for the roast, let the beef sit and relax and warm a bit, and when the time came, put it on the grill.  I know you're thinking "Grilling a Roast Beef?  What, is she NUTS?" but I always cook on the grill; in this case, I treated it like the oven and used a roasting pan for the food.  Anyway, I had tentatively planned on needing to cook the roast @1 3/4 hours.  After it had cooked for one and a half hours, I stuck the thermometer in the roast and checked the internal temperature.  Hmmmm...The temperature was only just around 100 degrees.  That's pretty much raw, so I set a timer for another half hour and re-thought my strategy for appetizers.  I also brought the thermometer inside and tested it under hot water to make sure it worked.  It did.  So after another half hour, I stuck the thing in the beef again and the temperature registered about 110 degrees.  Still a little too rare for my guests, so I left the thermometer in the roast and planned on coming back in ten minutes or so.  Well, when I checked (using a flashlight because it was dark by this time) the temperature hadn't budged, so I let it to cook some more.  And some more.  And then some more.  Finally, I decided to take the damn thing off the heat and bring it inside because it was surely cooked enough by now despite what the thermometer indicated.  I brought the roast into the kitchen and was letting it rest and waiting for the temperature to climb a few notches when I realized that meat thermometer was broken...The glass covering the little dial had melted and 'frozen' the needle at 110 degrees...
Hello, Domino's?

When a Door Closes...

So my friends do it.  Others I hardly know do it and encourage me to try it.  I didn't believe any of them or their tales of newly found freedom and the joyful transformation of the mundane to the extraordinary they so gloriously described.  Man and Boy were highly suspicious and really doubted I could or even would attempt to do it.   But, in spite of their somewhat scathing remarks and jokes, I decided to try it one day when I was home by myself, so I wouldn't be interrupted.  I approached the open doorway to Boy's bedroom with trepidation - this would be the supreme test.  Would I have enough nerve to do it here?  If I could, I knew I could, and would do it anywhere.  I reached out my hand, grasped the door knob, took a deep calming breath and pulled the door towards me until it clicked shut.  There.  I had done it.  I looked around guiltily and turned back to the now closed door.  Phew...I had successfully cleaned Boy's room in approximately 1/10th of a second.  My friends were right!  Now on to the rest of the house...

Running Woman, Part 2

How can I best describe the scene?  There I am; one in a crowd of perhaps 200 people.  We are all dressed in running clothes and adorned with some combination of bells or reindeer noses or antlers or flashing Christmas lights or elf ears or striped socks - there is even a person in a bright red Santa suit standing next to me whose pants seem to be playing Christmas carols.  What was I thinking when I chose this venue, the annual Marine Corps Jingle Bell Run, for my first foray into the world of recreational running?  All but me and maybe four or five others seem to be US Marine Corp active duty soldiers.  It is obscenely early (as in "it is STILL dark out" early and you KNOW how I feel about early morning activities) and I am abjectly TERRIFIED that I will not be able to complete the five kilometers.  I am also terrified that should I by some chance wind up in front of a group of the insanely FIT runners, I will either be a) trampled  or b) forced to run blindingly fast so I don't get trampled by the over-zealous elves and reindeer and possibly even Santa.  The race officials herd us to the start line, explain the route (which I really hope is marked because I am pretty sure to get lost if it's not), point out the HUGE electronic device ticking away which will time us and then there is a shot...I am startled...unaware that yes, that is really how they start a race.  I collect my thoughts, swallow my fear and off I go.  I try to be aware of my pace so that I don't run too fast and get too tired early on, but my fears are realized and there is suddenly a WAVE of soldiers behind me, chanting and ringing bells, each and every one politely yelling "Excuse Me, Ma'am" to me as they pour past me.  We come to a small 'funnel' on the course and I am forced to run as fast as I can to keep out of their way...I look longingly behind me at the safety of the gym, then back at the crush of Marines coming at me quick and I put my head down and just start running like hell.

Finally, the course opens up and I am able to sprint to the side of the column of runners and fight to catch my breath.  As I recover and struggle to regain my rhythm, the song "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" comes into my head, only I hear it as...

"Penny got trampled by the Marine Corps...
Running her first 5K one fine day
You can say she had no business running
But you know she's stubborn and had to have her way.

So she donned all her running gear
And stayed up all the night
To make sure she didn't miss it
'Cause she had to be there before the day's first light

When they found her on the course
After all the others had come and went
She looked up at her rescuers
And said "Y'all are heaven sent"

(chorus repeat)

For the remainder of the race, my idiotic words played endlessly in my head and I laughed my way to the finish line.  I am proud to say I RAN the entire course, not once did I cry and,  hold on to something solid: I finished...next to last place!

Running Woman

            "...he was probably just beginning his mid-life crisis, hence the jogging stuff. So, the message here is twofold: First, you never know when you're going to die, so you should be sure to have fun while you can. Second: this story reinforces my belief that jogging, whether on a treadmill, a neighborhood nature trail or even a beautiful beach, is truly a BAD thing." - from AIRPLANE, originally published in The Penny Chronicles March 17, 2010.

OK, so now do I have to eat my words?  I have, I am deeply ashamed to admit, taken up running.  I am now one of those crazy road weenies you see at all times of day and night in ill-fitting and unattractive clothing, bobbing crazily through crosswalks and between parked cars and around stopped school buses, and even worse, one of those who stop for traffic signals but keeps running in place.  I have joined their ranks. For some reason, I have a deep seated desire to run some sort of footrace.  So, I am currently training for a 5 kilometer race which will be held in three short weeks.  I have NEVER run before and I have a few theories why.  

• First and foremost, I have now proved what I have long suspected; that my body is not made for running - it is made for fishing and eating and playing at the beach and sleeping and other pleasurable pursuits.  
• Second, inclement weather is best enjoyed from either the cozy cabin of a warm, dry pilothouse or the plush sofa of a home with a well-stocked kitchen or at least a good and reliable source of take out food.  
• Third, I am an embarrassingly SLOW runner.  I am so slow that I have nightmares of the race officials closing up and leaving before I finish...  Of Boy graduating from High School while I am trying to finish this race...  Of missing dinner...

Despite the compelling reasons I have to NOT run,  I still put on my tennies and head out the door and slog around the neighborhood for a bit a few times a week.  I keep putting one foot in front of the other and smile through the complaints my body is making.  What's getting me off my big comfy couch?  I just keep imagining my triumphant dash across the finish line.  In my case, my 'dash' is likely to be a slow jog or even a walk or perhaps even a crawl but as long as I make it to the other side of that line, I don't really care.

 

Beautification

Over the years, I have experimented with probably hundreds of skin care products purchased (depending on my financial solvency) at drugstores, supermarkets, department store cosmetic counters, salons and spas. I have also gone the route of door-to-door products, mail order and the internet. I am a skincare junkie. An addict, if you will. I will try out pretty much any product on my face. I have also experimented with skincare of my own invention in my own kitchen (after all, I do have a science background), developed after painstaking detailed research spanning actual minutes.

My latest experiment was with canned pumpkin. Pumpkin is loaded with all kinds of good stuff your skin needs so I thought, "Why not?" So I opened up a can of pumpkin, smeared it on my face and throat and waited about 15 minutes. After rinsing it off, while my skin did feel noticeably smoother, my face and neck and the palms of my hands were a ghastly shade of...well, pumpkin orange. From the neck up, I looked like a spray tan gone bad. My peculiar coloring lasted about 3 days. Neither man nor boy noticed. (Note to self: next time, use the white pumpkins.)

Other things I have tried and suggest you avoid -

Plough (pronounced 'pluff') mud: I thought this would be a great detoxifier and be loaded with luscious nutrients from the sea. However, when I let it dry out on my skin, I was encased in this incredibly hard crust...sort of like a mummy. Took FOREVER to wash off. And then, learning from my mistake, I thought maybe regular mud puddle mud might work...you know, with the rain water and all that. Got a horrible rash...

I had high hopes for whipped cream and honey - When I started out, I actually was using MILK and honey, but by the time I blew up the hand mixer trying to blend these two things together, I had made whipped cream with some lumpy calcified honey blobs. Whipped cream, and therefore I assume milk, on my skin, makes me itch terribly! Egg whites were almost as difficult to remove as the plough mud. And, I also can't recommend oatmeal, watermelon, coffee grinds or balsamic vinegar as skincare treatments.

So, while I like and use "natural" and "unprocessed" and "organic" products to eat or clean my house with, when it comes to my face, I run like hell from any product that makes any of those claims!