Wowie. I've had two people mention in the past 24 hours that they either read my blog pretty consistantly and that they definitely notice when I don't update. Oops. I apologize for being slack over the last week. Like I said, it's AT&T Broadband's fault, but I will struggle on against these odds to serve my public (i.e., Angie and my parents. Hey, it's a start.)
Hi Angie! Hi mom and dad!
Last night was the official start of my Christmas social season, with Christine and Brian's party out in Oak Park. They have staked out the first Saturday of December, just as Lotti has dibs on the Sunday before Halloween and I have the weekend closest to the 21st of February. Yes, we're creatures of habit. We like it that way. Anyway, Christine and Brian's place is gorgeous, they always have amazing food and great wine, and it's always a good time. The only weird thing about it is there's the group of college friends -- us -- and the group of adult friends. I walked in this year and there were all these... adults. Like, real adults, not quasi-adults like me and Angie and Lotti and such. People Christine and Brian know from work, and MBA school, and the neighborhood and such. Sometimes the two groups mesh, and sometimes they... don't. Part of it is that we, the college group, are a bunch of wimps who don't mingle and such. We're easily intimidated, and we tend to huddle together for security. It's stupid, but there you are. Another part of it is we, the college group, can occassionally sound like we're a Tourette's Syndrome convention. Just about all of us have the lack-of-filter problem. Hell, it's fun. Last night's classic moment was when Lotti started channeling a 30's "Hey, kids! Let's put on a show!" movie and you could just feel the adults shrinking back in horror as we laughed. It made sense at the time. And it was funny. Really. I guess you had to be there -- or, even if you were there, I guess you had to .. oh, hell, I don't know. Just go with it.
So Christine and Brian, I'm sorry if we scared off your friends. I guess we're not quite fit for the Adult's Table yet.
The thing is, I hope we're all still living in stream of consciousness and willing to make fools out of ourselves and laugh out loud for a very, very long time to come.
My other dilemma with the party is that I only occasionally know how to dress myself. Hey, I work for a dot-com, I go to work in jeans. Getting dressed up is something of a big deal. I think I looked pretty good -- velvet pants, silk shirt and tank top. People kept stroking my leg, which is the most action I've gotten in a while, so I was fine with that. The only thing was the tank top kept kind of creeping down, and I was afraid I was, shall me say, cleaving maybe a bit too much. I wasn't gonig to flash anyone or anything -- I think -- but I was exposing considerably more decollatage than is normal for me. I mean, sure, one of the good things about being "voluptuous" or "zaftig" or any of the other nice ways of saying fat is that you do tend to have bountiful bazongas, and yeah, I know, if you got 'em, flaunt 'em, but I'm not really used to flaunting 'em. Let's just say I was uncomfortably aware of my posture for the entire evening. And leaning over to pick something up was not an option.
In other news, I went a little crazy with the cheese whiz Christmas-wise today. I was going to just zip out to the grocery store to pick up a few ingredients I was running low on.... but I got distracted. First of all, I needed to buy new pajamas, as the ones I've been wearing for the past couple of years are so worn in (or worn out) that they may be considered illegal in some states. Angie is having a girlie sleepover next weekend, and I don't want to inadvertantly moon all my friends. So I stopped by a store to get flannel pajama bottoms, and left with jammies, a sweater, a shirt and four pairs of tights. What can I say, I'm weak. Then to the grocery store for brown and powdered sugars, (and other things that mysteriously appeared in my cart -- how did that magazine get there? Oh well.)
A brief detour to CostCo, as I was right next to it and I've been considering whether it would make sense to join. After a quick survey, I realized that I would save enough on cat litter alone to make it worthwhile. Plus there are the industrial-size bags of brown sugar, which would cut out these dangerous short trips to the store next Christmas. So that's on the list.
Then, since I was so close anyway, I thought I'd just pop into Target. A couple of mistakes there: (1)Target is full of cool stuff, and (2) Target is even fuller of people, so "popping in" was patently impossible. Did I turn around like a sensible person when I saw the massive crowds? Hell no, I was on a roll. My "quick look" at Target netted me the following Christmas items: Doormat, hand towels, lights, easy-use lightswitch, stocking hangers, cookie decorations, table cloth, CDs. Did I need any of this? No. Do I care? No. Again, I'm weak.
Then home to bake, and bake, and bake some more. I turn into this baking dervish between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day -- I give cookies to just about everyone I've ever talked to, and the kitchen is pretty much constantly in use for that month and a half. Which is weird, since I don't cook/bake much for the rest of the year. It used to drive Tripp, my ex, nuts -- he cooks regularly, and suddenly, the kitchen was a disaster area and I was using all the bowls, oven, spoons, etc. I think it's a weird Jersild genetic thing. Or not. Whatever. Anyway, people don't tend to complain (not even Tripp anymore, since we're no longer living together and he gets to cookies without having to deal with the kitchen.)
I'm having trouble with the truffles this year -- I can't find the recipe I used to use, and I don't like the substitute I found so much. That, and I accidentally made one batch with unsweetened chocolate, and had to add a bunch of sugar to make it edible. I'll have to call my chocolate expert to see if they can (or should) be saved.
Oh, does anyone know where I can get crystallized violets or other edible flowers? I'm not having any luck with my usual sources of obscure/high-end ingredients here. And I'm not quite hard-core Martha Stewart enough to make them myself.
Hi Angie! Hi mom and dad!
Last night was the official start of my Christmas social season, with Christine and Brian's party out in Oak Park. They have staked out the first Saturday of December, just as Lotti has dibs on the Sunday before Halloween and I have the weekend closest to the 21st of February. Yes, we're creatures of habit. We like it that way. Anyway, Christine and Brian's place is gorgeous, they always have amazing food and great wine, and it's always a good time. The only weird thing about it is there's the group of college friends -- us -- and the group of adult friends. I walked in this year and there were all these... adults. Like, real adults, not quasi-adults like me and Angie and Lotti and such. People Christine and Brian know from work, and MBA school, and the neighborhood and such. Sometimes the two groups mesh, and sometimes they... don't. Part of it is that we, the college group, are a bunch of wimps who don't mingle and such. We're easily intimidated, and we tend to huddle together for security. It's stupid, but there you are. Another part of it is we, the college group, can occassionally sound like we're a Tourette's Syndrome convention. Just about all of us have the lack-of-filter problem. Hell, it's fun. Last night's classic moment was when Lotti started channeling a 30's "Hey, kids! Let's put on a show!" movie and you could just feel the adults shrinking back in horror as we laughed. It made sense at the time. And it was funny. Really. I guess you had to be there -- or, even if you were there, I guess you had to .. oh, hell, I don't know. Just go with it.
So Christine and Brian, I'm sorry if we scared off your friends. I guess we're not quite fit for the Adult's Table yet.
The thing is, I hope we're all still living in stream of consciousness and willing to make fools out of ourselves and laugh out loud for a very, very long time to come.
My other dilemma with the party is that I only occasionally know how to dress myself. Hey, I work for a dot-com, I go to work in jeans. Getting dressed up is something of a big deal. I think I looked pretty good -- velvet pants, silk shirt and tank top. People kept stroking my leg, which is the most action I've gotten in a while, so I was fine with that. The only thing was the tank top kept kind of creeping down, and I was afraid I was, shall me say, cleaving maybe a bit too much. I wasn't gonig to flash anyone or anything -- I think -- but I was exposing considerably more decollatage than is normal for me. I mean, sure, one of the good things about being "voluptuous" or "zaftig" or any of the other nice ways of saying fat is that you do tend to have bountiful bazongas, and yeah, I know, if you got 'em, flaunt 'em, but I'm not really used to flaunting 'em. Let's just say I was uncomfortably aware of my posture for the entire evening. And leaning over to pick something up was not an option.
In other news, I went a little crazy with the cheese whiz Christmas-wise today. I was going to just zip out to the grocery store to pick up a few ingredients I was running low on.... but I got distracted. First of all, I needed to buy new pajamas, as the ones I've been wearing for the past couple of years are so worn in (or worn out) that they may be considered illegal in some states. Angie is having a girlie sleepover next weekend, and I don't want to inadvertantly moon all my friends. So I stopped by a store to get flannel pajama bottoms, and left with jammies, a sweater, a shirt and four pairs of tights. What can I say, I'm weak. Then to the grocery store for brown and powdered sugars, (and other things that mysteriously appeared in my cart -- how did that magazine get there? Oh well.)
A brief detour to CostCo, as I was right next to it and I've been considering whether it would make sense to join. After a quick survey, I realized that I would save enough on cat litter alone to make it worthwhile. Plus there are the industrial-size bags of brown sugar, which would cut out these dangerous short trips to the store next Christmas. So that's on the list.
Then, since I was so close anyway, I thought I'd just pop into Target. A couple of mistakes there: (1)Target is full of cool stuff, and (2) Target is even fuller of people, so "popping in" was patently impossible. Did I turn around like a sensible person when I saw the massive crowds? Hell no, I was on a roll. My "quick look" at Target netted me the following Christmas items: Doormat, hand towels, lights, easy-use lightswitch, stocking hangers, cookie decorations, table cloth, CDs. Did I need any of this? No. Do I care? No. Again, I'm weak.
Then home to bake, and bake, and bake some more. I turn into this baking dervish between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day -- I give cookies to just about everyone I've ever talked to, and the kitchen is pretty much constantly in use for that month and a half. Which is weird, since I don't cook/bake much for the rest of the year. It used to drive Tripp, my ex, nuts -- he cooks regularly, and suddenly, the kitchen was a disaster area and I was using all the bowls, oven, spoons, etc. I think it's a weird Jersild genetic thing. Or not. Whatever. Anyway, people don't tend to complain (not even Tripp anymore, since we're no longer living together and he gets to cookies without having to deal with the kitchen.)
I'm having trouble with the truffles this year -- I can't find the recipe I used to use, and I don't like the substitute I found so much. That, and I accidentally made one batch with unsweetened chocolate, and had to add a bunch of sugar to make it edible. I'll have to call my chocolate expert to see if they can (or should) be saved.
Oh, does anyone know where I can get crystallized violets or other edible flowers? I'm not having any luck with my usual sources of obscure/high-end ingredients here. And I'm not quite hard-core Martha Stewart enough to make them myself.
posted by SAJ at
10:02 PM
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