tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75454779143549449102024-03-13T13:55:01.156-07:00Do you speak... fiwaese?fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-17428784931512040912011-07-21T10:04:00.001-07:002011-07-21T10:13:58.414-07:00Sparkle me<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M6wNypSmRfc/TihcKEGW2kI/AAAAAAAAAHM/2cAT3CEQ8ok/s1600/sparkly%2Bnails2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631852661995657794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 188px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M6wNypSmRfc/TihcKEGW2kI/AAAAAAAAAHM/2cAT3CEQ8ok/s320/sparkly%2Bnails2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/?action=view&current=fiwablackonwhitebackground.jpg" target="_blank"></a></div><br /><br /><p>I swirled my fingers at my <a href="http://fiwaese.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-would-like-you-to-meet-my-new-boss.html">boss</a> this morning and told him that I am so sorry he is a boy and can't have sparkly nails. I implored him not to let the jealousy make him bitter. He just smirked and said "If that's what you need to believe...". </p><br /><p>He's so brave to hide his disappointment. </p>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-81253904036660636972011-06-27T10:30:00.000-07:002011-06-27T16:55:36.899-07:00Where I am fromI am from skating rinks and disco balls, from Pac-Man and spreading oak trees and wide, green lawns.<br /><br />I am from a house with a big, homey kitchen, echoing with the babble of a big family, from creek houses with rooms crammed full of beds and people, from porches with screens and early morning’s quiet sunrise over the water.<br /><br />I am from the banana trees and Indian Paint Brushes and Black Eyed Susans growing wild in the field.<br /><br />I am from Sunday dinners and short tempers, from Sanna and George and Creppon’s and Boillin’s. I am from a tendency to hold grudges, depression baby frugality, and the willingness to give the shirt off your back to help a stranger.<br /><br />I am from mind your manners and act like a lady, from clean your plate because there are starving children in Ethiapoia, from stand up straight, you’re ruining your posture, from try a little harder to be friendly and everyone will like you, and also from flashing porch lights.<br /><br />I am from strict Catholic parents, from church every Sunday, first communion, first confession and confirmation. I am from ashes smeared on foreheads, dried palm fronds and candle blessings.<br /><br />I am from Texas, from southern accents, from piney woods, muddy creeks and warm beaches and sand.<br /><br />I am from Friendswood, from England, Ireland, Germany and Spain, from fried chicken, gumbo and corn on the cob.<br /><br />I am from a mother who loves to play games and tell stories, from a father who survived losing his own father as a child, from grandparents I never met but still knew, from aunts and uncles and cousins innumerable, from cut-throat games of cards, from Friday night bingo, from salty popcorn and ice cold snow cones at Camp Manison, from cake walks and white elephant booths and books and books and books.<br /><br />I am from photos that could not be contained in a single album, from pictures on walls and spilling from drawers, of a family too large and complex to contain.<br /><br /><br />*I got this from <a href="http://www.avitable.com/">Avitable</a>, and if you would like to create your own you can use a template of prompts found <a href="http://www.swva.net/fred1st/wif.htm">here</a>.fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-33876564684586661832011-04-09T16:35:00.000-07:002011-04-09T16:47:15.741-07:00Lizzy the Goatie GirlFor the past two weeks I have been part-time momma to a baby pygmy goat that belongs to my bosses. She was one of three, and the other two babies and mom died during birth. So she comes to work everyday with Brad and his partner Jay, and I get to be momma during the day while Jay is out on appointments. Every day Jay apologizes for leaving her with me, like it's some kind of hardship to have this little miss in my room. Bottle feeding her has been hilarious, and the only time it's a hardship is when she has gas. Oh my, it's hard to believe something so stinky can come from something so cute & tiny. The best part of the day is the last few minutes before five when Jay lets her out of jail and she runs free up and down the hallway. I decided that it's not fair for one person to hoard all the cuteness, so on Friday I videotaped her antics. <div><br /></div><div>Here is Lizzy's (and my) first movie. You can tell it's MY first because nearly the whole thing is sideways. Also, I apologize for the heavy breathing. Lizzy, on the other hand, was born to be a movie star.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgHY3Wv2mZ8">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgHY3Wv2mZ8</a></div><div><br /></div><div>love,</div><div>me & the goatie</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgHY3Wv2mZ8"></a><br /><div><br /></div></div>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-33963030849060237392011-04-08T09:55:00.000-07:002011-04-08T10:01:37.816-07:00I can't believe it's been a YEAR!Or almost. Almost a year since I last blogged. Sometimes I think I will take this down all together, but I'm glad I didn't. I think I might be feeling like blogging again. I have to admit, I have been cheating with FaceBook. And I'm not giving it up, I just want that to be clear from the start. I think any relationship should be founded on honesty. If you want to be my friend on FaceBook, I would love it. Come find me: Kari Martin <a href="http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/?action=view&current=fiwablackonwhitebackground.jpg" target="_blank"></a>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-84595562157346889142010-05-06T08:12:00.000-07:002010-05-06T08:46:04.916-07:00I would like you to meet my new boss!Thank you, internets, for everything you've given me. I met my husband through you, my best friend through you, and now, my boss through you! <div><br /></div><div>Yes, that's right, it only took me a year and six months, but I am finally back among the workers of the world. I'm not counting the mall job because that wasn't technically work, that was a level of hell in Dante's Inferno, the lost chapter that his dog ate. You don't know how I wish I could tell you some of the things that have gone on there recently. I could write a best seller, but I'd probably get sued. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, back to the good news. For a few months I've been talking on and off with this friend of mine about taking a position at his company when one of their partners retired. I wanted to tell you about it then, but I just couldn't believe my luck was going to hold and I was actually going to get the job, so I kept it to myself. After all, the other partners had to agree to hire me too. Last week I went in for an interview, and I myself was smitten with them. Turns out they must have liked me too, because yesterday I got a call from the retiring partner offering me the job! </div><div><br /></div><div>Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to my new boss! I called him the bee charmer in the post where I talked about meeting him for the first time. Now I'm going to call him my knight in shining armor because he rescued me from mall work and gave me a wonderful new job! A round of applause please for mister <a href="http://kubotofarm.blogspot.com/">Brad Crane</a>. Oh, and he told me that he stopped reading my blog when we first began talking about the job because he wanted to give me the privacy to talk about whatever I wanted, so he won't see any comments you leave here. If you want to comment to him you'll have to either email him or send him a note on Facebook. </div><div><br /></div><div>I just think it's the coolest thing ever that I met my friend and future boss through my blog. The world and God work in mysterious ways. And I do have to give a little credit there, because for the last year or so of this year and six month ordeal I've been saying that I was sick of hearing people say "God has a plan for you". It's hard not to get discouraged when a plan takes so long to come to fruition, but I have to say, maybe there was one in place after all. One night when I was feeling very blue at the mall I was telling my coworker Jen how depressed I was that it had taken me so long to find a job. When the cranky receptionist from my last job got laid off a few months after I did, she had another job, and a better job at that, within a week! And here I was a year and a half later and still at the mall. I mentioned how sick I was of people telling me that God had a plan for me. Suddenly Jen started crying and she said "I think God DID have a plan for you! If you hadn't been here I probably would have walked out long ago, and then I would have been homeless and living in my car since Eric (her husband) lost his job! And I never would have gone to that job interview if you hadn't pushed me to it and told me I could do it, and I wouldn't have got the job without you coaching me and fixing my resume and loaning me the money to buy a suit!" And then of course <i>I</i> started crying, and I am proud to report that Jen DID get the job she applied for, and it's with a better store and she's actually the assistant manager there now. So ok, ok, maybe there was a plan. Because I think this job with Brad is tailor made for me and I'm going to <b>love </b>it, and if something had come along sooner I wouldn't have worked with Jen and I would have been stuck with a job that paid the bills but that was just <i>ok</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thank You for prayers answered, and for my friend and new boss, Brad.</div><div><br /></div><div>love,</div><div>me</div><div><br /></div>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-46488736028554411742010-04-05T17:29:00.000-07:002010-04-05T17:32:06.375-07:00Justice has prevailedThanks to a certain officer in my city's police department, the person who stole my checks and cashed them has been caught! Can you believe they were stupid enough to use their own drivers license and current address? My husband is feeling sorry for them now, but I am not. <div><br /></div><div>love,</div><div>me</div>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-79577157306882220002010-03-05T23:11:00.000-08:002010-03-05T23:47:13.461-08:00Choosing my religionTHAT is one thing I missed about blogging, being able to drop song lyrics and titles into "conversation" on a regular basis.<div><br /></div><div>Last year at Easter <a href="http://livingthelifemoonthego.blogspot.com/">Mo</a> and I each decided that we needed to find a church. So we agreed to take turns picking a church and trying it out together each Sunday until we hopefully found the one that felt like home. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was raised Catholic and have left the church for personal reasons. I've always been curious about different religions, so I thought this was the perfect way to learn a little bit more about how other people worship and also find a new church in the bargain. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let me tell you, it was an eye opening experience. The first church we went to turned both of us off because the pastor spent a good part of the sermon making fun of various people she had come across during the week who didn't understand what Easter is all about. That left a bad taste in my mouth. Maybe instead of making fun of them, or belittling them for not understanding, you could try inviting them to attend the service and help them figure it out. Just a thought. Also, there was a woman who was knitting during the service, and her ball of yarn was easily the size of a basket ball. At one point it got away from her and rolled a good way down the aisle toward the altar before she managed to reel it back in. No one said a word. I thought that was strange. Maybe she was knitting for Jesus, but I don't think it's necessary to carry that on in church myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>The next church we went to was a Unitarian church. We realized after being heartily welcomed and assured that they accept people of all sexual persuasions that they assumed we were a lesbian couple. After being raised a Catholic, the lack of ceremony in most services feels a little strange to me, but this one took the cake. People actually took coffee into the service. Seeing McDonald's and Starbucks mugs on the floor at people's feet in church was.... strange. Also, this particular church has a large glass window behind the altar, and the garden behind this window is beautifully landscaped and contains several mature trees. One tree directly behind the pulpit had a bird feeder, and three squirrels spent the entire hour playing grab ass and hanging upside down from the tree limb by their hind feet to steal the bird seed. I could have ignored these things if I'd liked the feel of the church, but everything felt just a little too loosey goosey for me. I don't want pomp and circumstance, but I'd like just a little more formality than that. </div><div><br /></div><div>One church we attended left me feeling very angry because in a PowerPoint presentation that was shown during the service I was informed that I am "the devil's reject" because of a certain belief that I hold. I almost got up and walked out, but stayed out of respect for Mo. </div><div><br /></div><div>And there was the church where we walked in very close to the time for the service to start, so the pastor waited whilst name tags were made for us and then personally escorted us into the church to sit among the other 5 attendees. I have been to some small services before, but 5 was a little uncomfortable. Especially since they put us on the spot as part of the service and asked us to introduce ourselves. And this is the point in my life where I realized that it's ok, I <i>can </i>stand up and talk in public. So we were honest. We just told them that some people go on pub crawls... we are on a church crawl, choosing our religion.</div><div><br /></div><div>love,</div><div>me</div><div><br /></div>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-54803915344831224032010-03-05T07:52:00.000-08:002010-03-05T08:14:15.579-08:00Why you should write checks with a Sharpie PenBecause apparently acetone won't remove the Sharpie ink.<div><br /></div><div>Saturday, for the first time ever, we mailed our bills from our home mailbox and put the little flag up to indicate outgoing mail. Saturday, while we puttered around in the house, someone drove by and stole our mail. They took our mortgage payment and a credit card payment and "washed" them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Washing involves using acetone to remove the ink in the "To" line and the "Amount" line, and rewriting the check out to another individual, usually at a higher amount. Like say, several thousand dollars. </div><div><br /></div><div>One of the great things about using a small bank is that the tellers recognize me, and recognize my face. So when this person went to the bank and actually had the brass balls to walk in to the bank and sit down in front of the camera to cash my check, the teller sensed something was wrong and tried to call me. IF I had up to date information on file with them, the worm would have been caught then and there. But we had cancelled our home phone last year and moved to using our cell phones for all calls, and neglected to let the bank know that fact. Oopsie. So when she wasn't able to reach us, and could find nothing physically wrong with it, the teller cashed the check. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then, because this worm, this slime on the bottom rung of humanity, is apparently fairly intelligent, they took the next check to a different branch and wrote a contact phone number on the check for the teller, who this time did not recognize or know me, to call and verify the check. </div><div><br /></div><div>So, several thousand dollars later I have learned a couple of new lessons. Never, never, never, no matter how busy you are and how convenient it may seem, never mail bills from an unlocked box. Make sure your credit card and bank have your up to date contact information. And also, use Sharpie pens to write your checks because the ink cannot be washed. Sharpie makes a very nice pen which I love using anyway - it will now become the only pen in our desks. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and a note to the slime herself: Not only is your face on camera at the bank, honey, but you left a nice fat fingerprint on one of the checks! And taking mail out of a mailbox is mail fraud, which is a federal offense. </div><div><br /></div><div>Note to the universe: I think I've learned enough lessons this year! Couldn't I have some time off for good behavior? </div><div><br /></div><div>love,</div><div>me</div>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-36578402589252157412010-02-19T08:08:00.000-08:002010-02-19T08:59:20.064-08:00Retail Therapy<div>Lay down here on my couch for a little retail therapy, if you please. We're going to have a discussion about shopping. Actually, I'm going to get on my soap box, but feel free to return fire if there is anything about this subject <i>you'd </i>like to discuss. </div><div><br /></div><div>First of all, never, never, never ask me (your friendly <b>sales </b>person, notice how I put <b>sales </b>in bold?) if an outfit looks good on you. Please don't put me in that position. Take a friend or your partner shopping with you if you want an honest opinion, but please don't put me, a stranger, and a stranger who has a sales goal no less, in that position. Do you really expect me to be honest with a total stranger about how something looks on you? Because the chances are really high if you are asking me, you KNOW it doesn't look good. And somewhere in the store, lurking like a spider, is my boss, who would flay me alive if she heard me say something negative that caused me to lose a sale. So if I say something along the lines of "That looks good! But let me go get you blah-blah-blah, you might like that even better!" please take the hint. </div><div><br /></div><div>Second, if you try on several pairs of jeans or pants in what you <i>think </i>is your size, and none of them fit right, there's a really good chance that the problem doesn't lie with the clothing itself, but that the size you're trying on is not your actual size. Which leads me to my next point...</div><div><br /></div><div>Why obsess about the number? No one but you knows whether the pair of jeans you are wearing has a 6, 8 or 12 on the tag! The number doesn't matter - get over it. Is it better to have a smaller number with a huge muffin top bulging over the waist band, or a larger number but the pants fit you right and ultimately look better on you? Sure - if you think the number is too large, do something about it. But don't buy the pants in the smaller size because you're convinced that you'll lose weight and be able to wear them soon. Because if you're struggling to zip them, that's going to take a pretty significant weight loss, and in the meantime wouldn't it be better to have the pants that you can actually sit down in, and which you can wear with a belt after you start losing weight? The pants that actually fit you are going to look much better on you and make you look <i>slimmer </i>than the smaller size that doesn't really fit. Then you'll have the satisfaction of trying on the smaller size after you've lost weight and having them actually look good on you. </div><div><br /></div>And last of all - please, please, please talk nicely to yourself. You know how they say if you tell a child he or she is stupid, that they will start to believe they are stupid? It's the same way with your body image. If you constantly look in the mirror and say "I'm fat" or "I look terrible", what do you think your body is going to do? Dress to your body style. If you don't know how to do so, <i>that </i>is an appropriate question to ask your friendly sales person for help figuring out. Make sure you aren't wearing clothes that are too tight. LIKE what you're wearing and don't dress a certain way because you think you are supposed to, or because of your age. Who cares what other people think? If YOU like what you're wearing, you'll feel comfortable and be happier. And speak kindly to yourself! If you don't, who else will?<div><br /></div><div>love,</div><div>me</div>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-16608179063302301272010-02-10T19:10:00.000-08:002010-02-10T21:21:34.627-08:00This Year<div>A year ago I was still in my 30's.</div><div>A year ago I felt like I was in my 20's.</div><div>A year ago I thought, pssshhaw, <i>I</i> won't have any problem getting a job.</div><div>A year ago I thought a positive attitude would see me through anything.</div><div>A year ago I thought, I'm about as thrifty as I can get.</div><div>A year ago I was afraid of confrontation.</div><div>A year ago I cared a lot about what people think about me.</div><div><br /></div><div>2009 was one hell of a year for me. I turned the dreaded 4-0. I'm not sure I can put into words how much I've changed in the last year, but cleaning up the old posts on my blog brought it home to me. A year ago I was silly, naive and immature. I think I've aged about 10 years in one. The generation of Americans that I fall into has never really experienced tough times like these before, so they've come as a big shock. I always assumed (that dreaded word) that if you <i>really</i> wanted a job, you could get one, and that anyone who didn't have a job was just lazy. It's amazing how assumptions tend to bite you on the ass and come back to you as lessons to be learned. </div><div><br /></div><div>I always assumed as well that no matter what went wrong in my life, I would be able to fall back on my own brand of faith and my positive attitude. This year for the first time I realized that having a positive attitude isn't always enough, as evidenced by the break down I had in the bath tub one morning. Pretending doesn't make everything better, and sometimes we all need a little help to get by. Better living through chemicals! </div><div><br /></div><div>I remember thinking, and even posting, a year ago that I lived a very thrifty lifestyle. I learned in this year that I was lucky to be brought up by a parent who lived through the great depression, who instilled in me the lesson that you do not always have to have new and that you can <i>always</i> find ways to economize. I learned that I <i>can </i>live without cable t.v., even though I remember trying to make it just one weekend last year, and failing. I learned that I can get by with a lot less, and still be happy. In fact, there is even a kind of pride to be found in getting by with less and realizing that doing without <i>this </i>means that I can still have <i>that</i>. And I am one of the lucky ones, I still have my house. I know there are many out there who had/have it much worse than I do.</div><div><br /></div><div>This year I learned that I can take a job that I would never have dreamed of taking a year ago, and I can do my best at it, and I can even learn from it. I've realized that no matter what situation you find yourself in, handling it as gracefully as possible, doing your best, and learning from it will make it a lot easier to accept. </div><div><br /></div><div>This year I have realized that life is too short and full of too much crap to put up with crap from other people. I have realized that if someone doesn't bring joy to my life, then I don't have the time to be around them. That sounds cruel, but in the past I have put up with a lot from people I thought of as friends, because I thought that was what friends do. This year I learned that real friends don't do that. Real friends don't put conditions on friendship and they accept you for who you are, warts and all. </div><div><br /></div><div>This year I realized, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks about me. As long as <i>I</i> am happy with me, that is all that matters. I am flawed, I'm still learning from my mistakes and probably will be till the day I die, but I've worked hard to get to where I am, and I am happy with me - flaws and all. </div><div><br /></div><div>My glibly given advice to others has always been: be happy with what you have - and- you have to make your own happiness. I'm trying to take a little bit of my own medicine and find happiness in what I have, but it's a bitter pill and I'm still having to work at getting it down. And yet it is during the tough times that we learn and grow the most, and I am grudgingly beginning to see the truth in that now. Bear with me, I see the sun coming back.</div><div><br /></div><div>Love,</div><div>me</div><div><br /></div><div>P.S. I'm sorry, but I had to turn on comment verification. Apparently some bot got all hot & heavy with my comment section and ruined it for everyone else. I'll turn it off again in a few weeks and see if it goes away.</div><div><br /></div>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-33124991210435844402010-01-28T13:15:00.001-08:002011-06-27T17:19:06.335-07:00The way of things...Ok, who turned out the lights?<br />*Crash*<br />And where did all these beer bottles come from?!<br /><br /><br />Hm... yes, I like it here, but it needs some revamping. It's been awhile since I've been here, and after all, I am not the same person I was a year ago.<br /><br /><br />I think first of all, that frog and this green color have got to go. And I'm axing the blogroll. You can feel free to axe me from yours, I know I've been gone so long that there's probably not anyone left who cares, but it just feels like it turned into a competition to see who knows who. I'm not posting or giving out any more awards. They're very sweet, but again, it's so hard to pass them on without feeling like I'm leaving someone out or making someone feel unloved. And lastly, no more memes, I don't care who tags me, and I promise I won't be tagging you. I think blogging got to the point where it felt like an obligation, and that sucked some of the fun out of it. So I'll only be writing when I actually have something to say. Not that memes aren't fun to read - I love reading them about other people, I just won't be doing them myself. Oh yeah, and seriously lastly, I have strange religious views, liberal political opinions, and the propensity to occasionally cuss like a sailor. I hope you can keep an open mind and that none of this offends you, but I'm finished with trying to edit myself to please others. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.<br /><br /><br />Love,<br />mefiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-82411390771682448102009-07-03T16:08:00.000-07:002011-06-27T17:14:45.738-07:00Five Dollah!Look at my $5 light fixture! Isn't it cool? I love buying other people's junk.<br /><br /><a href="http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/?action=view&current=verticallamp2.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/verticallamp2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Have a happy & safe 4th.<br /><br />love,<br />me<a href="http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/?action=view&current=fiwablackonwhitebackground.jpg" target="_blank"></a>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-15365440529665076092009-04-26T14:38:00.000-07:002011-06-27T17:18:34.536-07:00Eat This and You Will be an Honorary Southerner - Shrimp & GritsAnd friends, you will thank me because your stummy will be in 7th heaven. I'm not even going to pretend this is low calorie or good for you, though there are vegetables involved. Because let's face it, the low calorie meals are not the most exciting, and this... this is exciting. I wish I had pictures to share, but frankly, my mouth was watering so much when it was done, there was no question of waiting for pictures. Just imagine a large, shallow bowl with a generous helping of creamy grits, tinted a beautiful warm ochre color by cheeeeese and cayenne pepper, topped with a mouth-watering mix of earthy mushrooms, bright green-greens and rosy, succulent shrimp. Ready?<br /><br />Shrimp and Grits<br />(that title is a little blah, it really doesn't reflect the gloriousness that is this dish. How about....)<br /><br />Splendarific Shrimp and Glorious Grits<br />This serves 4 - so cut in half if for 2.<br /><br />For the Glorious Grits<br />4 cups water<br />1 cup grits<br />1/2 teaspoon salt to taste (*I probably use closer to a teaspoon full myself)<br />2 tablespoons of butter<br />1 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese<br />1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese<br />a pinch each of black pepper and cayenne pepper<br /><br />For the Splendarific Shrimp<br />6 slices of bacon cut into small pieces<br />1/2 teaspoon of salt<br />Peanut or canola oil (not olive, the heat is too high for olive oil - it would smoke)<br />2 cups sliced mushrooms<br />1/4 cup diced Shallots ( I like shallots for this because they're a milder onion flavor - you don't want anything too strong)<br />4 large leaves of Swiss Chard, washed well, stems removed and shredded (it helps to cut the leaves in half lengthwise and then lay all on top of each other and shred with a sharp knife. Don't be afraid of Swiss Chard, it is a very mild green, but very tasty and very good for you.)<br />2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped<br />4 teaspoons fresh lemon juice - or the juice of one whole lemon<br />*Optional, hot pepper sauce, chopped fresh parsley<br /><br />Start the grits first. Bring the water to a boil in a large saucepan. Slowly stir in the grits and reduce the heat to medium low. Add the salt and both peppers and stir very well with either a whisk or a fork to break up any lumps. The grits will need to cook about 20 minutes - stir often during that time to keep them from sticking. Also, the more you stir the more starch will be released and the creamier the grits will become. At the end of the 20 minutes add in both cheeses and the butter and stir well. Give the grits a taste at this point and see if they need more salt. I truly think you need to give grits a generous amount of salt in the beginning, so I actually use quite a bit of salt - otherwise they can taste bland. But if you are more comfortable with the 1/2 teaspoon, go with that, but taste before you serve in case you need to add more. If your grits are ready before your shrimp just turn the heat down as low as it will go and give it a stir once in a while. If it starts to get too dry then just add a tablespoon full of hot water and stir till it's incorporated and creamy looking again.<br /><br />In the meantime in a large skillet or sauté pan, cook the bacon until crispy, then remove with a slotted spoon and place on a napkin covered plate to absorb some of the grease. Leave the bacon drippings in the pan and supplement with a splash of peanut or canola oil. This will keep the bacon grease from burning. Add in the onion and sauté until soft, then add in the garlic and sauté for a moment longer until you can smell the garlic - 1-2 minutes. Then add in the mushrooms and the chard, making sure all is well coated in the oil. Add the salt. Sauté until the chard is wilted, then add in the shrimp and put the bacon back in the pan. If you want this dish to be extra spicy, (and why wouldn't you?!) add in some hot sauce in the form of Tabasco, Louisiana Hot Sauce, or I used a tablespoon of Thai garlic chili paste. Sautee until the shrimp just become pink, then add the lemon juice and parsley.<br /><br />Serve in a shallow bowl with a ladle full of grits topped with the shrimp mixture. If you really want to be southern about it, biscuits go really well with this. <a href="http://castironkitchen.blogspot.com/search?q=biscuits">Sis has a really easy recipe here</a>, or you can buy the frozen Pillsbury biscuits - those are great too.<br /><br />Eat this and you will become an honorary southerner. And then you can start saying "y'all" 'n stuff & we won't look at you sideways. If you read this and said "Ewww, grits!" well, then you can just kiss mine, because grits are pretty much the same thing as your precious polenta, just not as finely ground. Give it a shot, I swear you'll like it.<br /><br />love,<br />me<a href="http://s3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/?action=view&current=fiwablackonwhitebackground.jpg" target="_blank"></a>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-59137468634631055082008-01-26T11:56:00.000-08:002010-02-24T12:36:37.781-08:00Last nightYou looked so worried and edgy when you stopped me to ask for money as I walked into the store. I told you I didn't have any, because all I had was a $20 and no singles. When I went in the store though, I couldn't help but look back at you, at how you were pacing a single square of sidewalk like a caged animal in the zoo. It was so cold, but you only had on a thin jacket.<br /><br />As I shopped I tried to tell myself that you'd probably be gone by the time I got back outside. I tried not to think about you, but all my mind could do was justify why I shouldn't give you any money. You were probably just going to spend it on drugs.<br /><br />I left the store and started loading my bags in the car, and saw movement out of the corner of my eye. You were still there, still pacing, still looking desperate. I was resolved though, so I got in my car to leave. As I was driving away though, something kept telling me I would regret it if I didn't help you. I actually stopped and argued with myself at the stop sign, but the feeling just kept getting stronger that I needed to go back. But all I have is that damned $20! Then I thought about all the help I have received from people throughout my life. I'm so lucky to know that if I need something, there are so many different people I can turn to for help.<br /><br />At the last minute I turned the car around and pulled into a space a few rows down from you. I got out and handed you the money. Your face broke my heart. You looked empty; like a shell. Hollow. Your expression never changed, you just took the money and left, but that's ok. I didn't want your grattitude.<br /><br />When I got back in the car I started sobbing, thinking about what you were probably going to do with that money. My love knew just what to say. "Even if she is on drugs, that doesn't mean she isn't hurting."<br /><br />So I can only hope. Maybe this will be the place where you hit bottom, and look for help. I'm not going to fool myself into thinking you spent it on food or a coat at the Salvation Army. Logically it seemed wrong, but something in me felt like it was the right thing to do, felt like I would remember you and regert it if I didn't give you that money. It was only $20. I have been given so much more.fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-29088814837630869942006-08-12T15:17:00.000-07:002011-07-12T16:11:41.628-07:00Handy workout tip for the dayIf you've been working out and you're sweaty, don't use a toilet seat cover.<br /><br />nuff said.fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-80353405909512462882006-08-07T15:16:00.000-07:002011-07-12T16:11:21.200-07:00Happy SurprisesThis evening I was pottering in the garden when I decided to yank up a plant in my raised bed. I didn't know what it was, but have been babying it for awhile, and tonight I decided I was tired of the way it was flopping over on the chives, so out it came. See, I have been putting up with this plant, because when I started the raised bed this spring I planted a bunch of seeds I had received in a seed exchange. Then, coz I am a lazy girl, I tossed all the seed packets and couldn't remember what I had planted where. I was convinced this was some kind of perennial that wasn't going to bloom until next year. Imagine my suprise when I found these attached! The only thing I can figure out is that they grew from some potato scraps I threw in the bed over the winter.<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 383px; HEIGHT: 297px" height="313" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Garden%20Photos/taters.jpg" width="428" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Two baby potatoes, one for me and one for The Boy!<br /><br />I'm thinking baked, with butter and sea salt?fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-3717043781811690822006-08-06T15:14:00.000-07:002011-07-12T16:10:12.834-07:00Why I will never be mistaken for Rachel RaySo, I have this recipe for Lasagna from Cooks Illustrated that has been calling my name for a few weeks. Cooks Illustrated recipes are foolproof, because they test a recipe backwards, forwards and inside out before it's published.<br /><br />Lesson #1: Foolproof is not the same as Fiwaproof.<br /><br />I go the the grocery store armed with my list.<br />No boil noodles - check<br />Pureed tomatoes - check<br />Diced tomatoes - check<br />1 pound of meatloaf mix - Nope.<br /><br />Yeah, see, it woulda been way too easy if I could find all the ingredients. I suspected going in that the meatloaf mix was going to be a problem. Meatloaf mix is prepacked ground hamburger, veal and pork, and it makes a really nice and moist mix. But no dice. So I go for the next best thing, which is a large package of hamburger and a small package of ground pork. I don't bother to look at those pesky weights on the package, I just get the one that looks like it's goldilocks size.<br /><br />Ok, back to the list...<br />Ricotta - check<br />Parmesan - check<br />Whole milk mozzarella - Nope.<br /><br />Yeah, whole milk mozzarella. If you pay attention to the packaged cheese in the store, most mozzarella (because of the freakin food police) is made with skim milk. Which means it dries out and gets rubbery when you bake it. I'm with Cooks Illustrated on that - I tried making a pizza with the skim mozzarella once - it's like trying to melt a hunk of tire on your pizza. So after looking at every package in the dairy aisle, I get the bright idea to go look in the specialty cheeses section in the deli. Sure nuff, THERE is the whole milk mozzarella. And by god, 16 oz is NINE FREAKING DOLLARS! Sorry Cooks Illustrated, I'm just too cheap. I couldn't justify it; so I went back to the dairy aisle and got a block of skim mozzarella to grate myself. At least that would help with the taste a little bit, as the already grated cheese gets so dried out that it compounds the problem.<br /><br />Armed with the goods I go home and get to cooking. The first sign that this wasn't going to be a winner was when I put all the meat into my dutch oven. So much meat that it came almost to the top. But not to be daunted, I work at mashing it down and stirring it into my beautifully sauted onions and garlic. Oh yeah... I think I forgot to mention that I came up with the bright<br />idea of substituting mushrooms for the veal that I couldn't find. Smart idea huh?! So I'm stirring and stirring and thinking how much meat this is, when out of the corner of my eye I see the meat package lying on the counter. I pick it up (remember those pesky weights?) and look closer and suddenly realize that I have about twice the amount of meat I'm supposed to use - not to mention the mushrooms. Ok, that's ok, I'll just have a heartier sauce, I tell myself. It's a bad sign when you catch yourself trying to placate yourself.<br /><br />Lesson #2: Look at the weight on the package!<br /><br />Stil feeling optimistic, I keep going. I add in the liquid, which is supposed to be 1/4 of a cup of cream, but because I just can't leave well enough alone, I reason that since I have more meat I should of course add more liquid. But that seems like a lot of cream, so I compromise and add the cream and then 1/2 a cup of red wine. Wine is good in meat sauce, right?! Ok, it's bubbling away, the 4 minute mark passes and the liquid is no where NEAR evaporting like the recipe says. But to be fair to Cooks Illustrated, I realized I had compromised the recipe at this point, and I'm on my own. So I suck it up and soldier on, basically leaving the meat to cook another 5 minutes. At this point I get impatient to go on, so I go ahead and dump in the rest of the wet ingredients and move on to assembling the cheeses while it simmers for 5 minutes. Now the cheese mixture calls for some basil, and I did not buy this at the store because I have my own growing at home. I very proudly skip outside with my kitchen shears, and while I'm there I think "Hmmm... that Oregano looks really pretty. Don't most spagetti sauces call for Oregano? I wonder why Lasagne wouldn't? Well it looks so pretty I think I'll just go ahead and add some, cause deviation has worked so well up to now, right?! I snip off a good handful and go back to the kitchen to chop it up and add it and the basil to the cheese mixture.<br /><br />Now back to the sauce. Except it's not really a sauce, it's a watery looking meat mixture, and the meat is in huge chunks which don't look very appetizing. So I decide to pull out my thunder stick and go to work pulverizing that sauce. Which helps the meat alot, but turns the sauce into a grey-pink color that is not very attractive. At this point I'm hot, and starting to suspect that this is going to end badly, but since I'm alone in the house and there is no one to witness my failure, I keep moving on. It's time to assemble the ingredients, so I go to pull out my baking dish, only it's not there. %&*#!!! My kitchen is so small there's nowhere else for it to hide, so I start to thinking back and realize it's stuck in that quagmire that is my friend Rick's house. Love the boy, but he's horrible about borrowing and not returning. So, cussing Rick, I pull out the closest thing to a baking dish that I now have, which turns out to be a roasting pan. Which is significantly larger than a 9x13 baking dish. I already know this isn't optimal, but I make the best of it and start layering the ingredients, breaking up the no-boil noodles to fill in. I thought the noodles would be my problem, I thought I would run out before I finished layering. Nope, turns out the cheese mixture was my problem, but I didn't realize it until I had spread the last layer and didn't have enough to even begin to cover.<br /><br />For god's sake, what else could go wrong?!<br /><br />I cobble it together the best I can and throw it into the oven. Two glasses of vino later and I'm back to feeling eager to taste my Cussagne. At least the french bread looks pretty. I assemble my plate, grab another<br />glass of wine and take my plate out to sit by the pond. I must say, despite all my mistakes, it did at least look pretty. First bite = big disappointment. But not really a big suprise. Too much oregano, too much meat and not enough sauce. The one positive thing I can say is that no-boil noodles rock! They were perfectly tender and moist.<br /><br />Lesson #3: DO NOT VARY FROM THE RECIPE!<br /><br />Or, be prepared to accept the blame if you do.<br />The one thing I have to be thankful for was that I *was* expecting to serve this to a guest. Thanks be to our lady of parmesan cheese that plans were changed at the last minute, or I would have been really embarrased. Now the question becomes, do I have the patience to try again and stick to the recipe without variation?<br /><br />After that pathetic tale of woe, perhaps you will allow me to brag just a teensy bit. My one shining moment of success this weekend - homemade bread.<br /><br /><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img height="350" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Misc/bread.jpg" width="412" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And here is the actual Cooks Illustrated "Fast Lasagna" Recipe:<br /><br />Tomato-Meat Sauce:<br />1 tablespoon olive oil<br />1 medium onion, chopped fine (about 1 cup)<br />6 medium cloves of garlic, minced<br />1 pound meatloaf mix or about 1/3 pound each of ground pork, ground beef chuck and ground veal. If you cannot find even those, substitute 1/2 pound<br />sweet italian sausage (casings removed) and 1/2 pound ground beef.<br />1/2 teaspoon salt<br />1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper<br />1/4 cup heavy cream<br />1 can (28 oz) pureed tomatoes<br />1 can (28 oz) diced tomatoes, drained<br /><br />Ricotta, Mozzarella, and Pasta Layers:<br />15 oz whole milk or part-skim ricotta<br />(suprisingly tasters couldn't tell the difference when whole was used vs. skim with the ricotta)<br />2 1/2 oz grated parmesan cheese (1 1/4 cups)<br />1/2 cup chopped fresh basil<br />1 large egg, lightly beaten<br />1/2 teaspoon salt<br />1/2 teaspoon black pepper<br />12 no-boil lasagna noodles from one 8 or 9 oz pack<br />16 oz whole milk mozzarella cheese, shredded (4 cups)<br /><br />1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 375 degrees.<br />2. Heat oil in a large, heavy-bottomed Dutch oven over medium heat until shimmering but not smoking. Add onions and cook, stirring occassionaly, until softened but not browned, about 2 mins. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high and add ground meats, salt and pepper; cook, breaking meat into small pieces with wooden spoon,<br />until meat loses its raw color but has not browned, about 4 minutes. Add pureed and drained diced tomatoes and bring to a simmer, reduce heat to low and simmer slowly until flavors are blended, about 3 minutes; set sauce aside.<br />3. Mix ricotta, 1 cup of parmesan, basil, egg, salt and pepper in medium bowl with fork until well-combined and creamy; set aside.<br />4. Assemble first layer as such: Smear entire bottom of a 9x13 inch baking dish with 1/4 cup of the meat sauce. Place 3 noodles on top. Drop 3 tablespoons of ricotta mixture down the center of each noodle. Level them out by pressing flat with the back of a spoon. Sprinkle evenly with 1 cup of the shredded mozzarella. Spoon 1 1/2 cups meat sauce evenly over the cheese. Repeat layering of noodles, ricotta, mozzarella, and sauce two more times. Place 3 remaining noodles on top of sauce, spread remaining sauce over noodles, sprinkle with remaining cup of mozzarella, then with remaining 1/4 cup of parmesan. Lightly spray the bottom of a large sheet of foil with nonstick cooking spray and then cover the lasagna. Bake 15 minutes, then remove the foil. Return lasagna to oven and continue to bake until cheese is spotty brown and sauce is bubbling, about 25 minutes longer. Cool lasagna about 10 minutes; cut into pieces and serve.<br /><br />Enjoy!fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-66918232334294849052006-07-21T15:12:00.000-07:002011-07-12T16:08:06.716-07:00My life with the condiment slutI have just counted 58 condiments in our refrigerator.<br />I had to give the butter up for adoption.<br />The eggs are sullen, but that's to be expected<br />because everyone knows eggs hate to be crowded.<br />The orange juice tried to mate with the milk.<br />Bad things happen to good food when there is over population.<br />But it's going to be ok.<br />I have a hit planned for 6am tomorrow,<br />long before the condiment slut will stumble from his burrow.<br />It will be ugly. There WILL be recriminations.<br />But life will go on. It will thrive in the fresh breezes.<br />Till the next time I let him go to the store alone.fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-66161363410962200132006-07-19T15:06:00.000-07:002011-07-12T16:05:43.157-07:00On the road again, just can't wait to get on the road again...<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"></a><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 383px; HEIGHT: 354px" height="392" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Mt%20Rainier/Roadtrip.jpg" width="471" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Who wants to take that long shot gamble and head out to Fire Lake?<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 381px; HEIGHT: 422px" height="426" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Mt%20Rainier/AlderLake4.jpg" width="401" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Don't go chasing waterfalls,<br /><br /><p align="left"><a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 373px; HEIGHT: 580px" height="588" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Mt%20Rainier/waterfall.jpg" width="401" border="0" /></a></p><br />Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to...<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 370px; HEIGHT: 403px" height="415" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Mt%20Rainier/driveuptotop.jpg" width="397" border="0" /></a><br /><br />That was good as it's ever gonna be, give me those swamp river days again<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 367px; HEIGHT: 405px" height="414" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Mt%20Rainier/swamp.jpg" width="405" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup and ride that highway in the sky<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 362px; HEIGHT: 393px" height="408" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Mt%20Rainier/closer.jpg" width="413" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sing it with me... "The HILLS are alive, with the sound of music"<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 361px; HEIGHT: 388px" height="414" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Mt%20Rainier/hillsarealive.jpg" width="485" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Almost Paradise, we're knocking on heaven's door...<a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"><img style="WIDTH: 365px; HEIGHT: 394px" height="416" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y52/Fiwa_6831/Mt%20Rainier/hillsarealive2.jpg" width="461" border="0" /></a><br /><br />All kidding aside, (and those were all song lyrics, every last, painful one of them) these are photos of <a href="http://www.mount.rainier.national-park.com/">Mount Rainier</a> in Washington state, and it is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. The scenery is breathtaking and my camera does not BEGIN to do it justice. In the last two shots we were in the aptly named wildflower meadow at Paradise which is just a few miles from the summit. The wildflower meadow is just one of several hikes at Paradise, and I can't wait to go back and take in some of the others. While hiking we saw several deer, a grey fox and a badger.<br /><br />Next time I want to reserve a cabin and stay at the darling little <a href="http://www.gatewaytomtrainier.com/accomm.html">Gateway Inn at Mt. Rainier</a>, which is just 50 feet away from the entrance to the park at Paradise.fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-52895611907090473152006-06-10T14:08:00.000-07:002011-07-12T16:03:10.750-07:00I'm not a fly girl; I'm a flyaway girlYou know who I am; you've seen me on the street.<br />Frizzy hair sticking out every which way,<br />chipped polish, wrinkled clothes.<br />I want to be one of those women walking so confidently,<br />perfectly groomed (straight) hair, just right clothes, trendy bag.<br />Everything so damned well put together.fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-25705981375246220162006-06-09T14:07:00.000-07:002011-07-12T16:03:48.309-07:00Random ThoughtsSometimes <a href="http://www.pandora.com/">Pandora</a> scares me. I just realized I'm listening to Yanni. And I liked it.<br /><br />Some thoughts I have collected from various people through the years, and now hold up as absolutes:<br /><br />1. River folk are diffr'nt.<br />2. If someone offers you a breath mint, take it.<br />3. People should be with people they like. (A short plot summary of Atlas Shrugged by an out of work actor)fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7545477914354944910.post-66607432411345421752006-05-10T14:03:00.000-07:002007-10-05T14:06:24.736-07:00Poetry Corner<p>"Bitsy" </p><p>I saw you lying on the floor </p>Dejected and morose <p></p>Because there was no toast <p></p>fiwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04816465372283594972noreply@blogger.com3