So, Here's the Thing...

I'm sitting here, "watching" TV and "working" on some school stuff because I've got some stuff "due" this week. All I can think of, seriously, all I can think about is how much I don't want to do this. I took a semester off (which included a bonus summer) to breathe and get away from it. Now, I'm....seriously, not even three weeks into the new semester and I just want to run.
General update that will give some perspective: I recently decided not to pursue a promotion at my current job. It's the job that, in my head, I've wanted for years. But, in the spirit of finding out what I want to do with my life, I decided that it wouldn't be of benefit to pursue that job. It would only further entrench me in the company, and lead further down the "more promotions, more money" path that has kept me in the corporate environment for years. No, I don't know what I want to do with my life. But I do know what I don't want to do.
So, I'm sitting here thinking....do I even bother with finishing this degree, when it makes me miserable to just feebly go through the motions? Or am I just reveling in the bliss of letting go of this other thing, and wanting to just kind of (and by kind of, I mean completely) let go of things that don't make me happy? Is this a lack of discipline or a concerted decision to no longer pursue a degree that I (may) never really use on the path toward what I love? And is this a decision best left for when I have that all figured out? You know, just in case...
Shit.

So, 30...

I dreaded turning 30 this year. Quite a lot. More so than when I was a bit skittish about 25 - mainly because I thought I was supposed to freak at 25 just because my mom did and because my friends had started throwing around this new term called a "Quarter Life Crisis." Ask my ex-fiance how well I handled that...

I decided (responsibly, of course) not to spend the last week of my 20's sober. Looking back, apparently I decided not to spend the first week of my 30's sober, either. That part wasn't planned, but y'know, whatever. I am now a few weeks on the other side of milestone, and I have a couple of observations...

First, it's cool to freak out, just understand why. At 25 I thought it was what I was supposed to do. At 30 I realized I was, in fact, dreading getting older. I remembered all those "where do you want to be when you're 30"  questions from high school and realized that my life hasn't turned out like a good little southern Christian girl's should. I have a momentary pang of....regret? Sadness? Heartburn? I realized I *wasn't* married and I *didn't* have children like I thought I was going to. But then, pretty much instantly, I realized that it was because those were not things that I actually wanted. At least not yet. Then I thought about the kick-ass life that has taken place instead of raising a family, and it's been great. Really. Fucking. Great. Seriously, troll on through my book of faces and see just how great the last five years alone have been. 

Second, it's cool to be completely irresponsible, just don't live in that place. I did it for two weeks, and y'know, I'm pretty sure my liver hates me. Let this be a lesson kids - you can still party like you're 21, just know that it's going to hurt a lot more in the morning.

Third, I have some of the best fucking friends in the world. Seriously. I love the motherfuck out of you guys.

So, since I was (temporarily) freaking out, and with a little inspiration from a derby sister, I dug out my list of shit I wanted to do before I die. I realized that I hadn't looked at the list and had actually crossed off a few items in the interim. I also added some stuff, because you should always keep growing. So anyway, here's my list as it exists today...

1. Visit all 50 states

2. Go to Canada and Mexico

3. Visit Europe

4. OK, the REAL Europe

5. Visit Japan

6. Learn to ski or snowboard

7. Write a book

8. Go whitewater rafting

9. Earn a Bachelors Degree (edit - nah, make that a Masters)

10. Get a tattoo (edit - hahahaha, who knew....)

11. Learn a musical instrument (and retain that knowledge)

12. Do something that scares the shit out of me

13. IF you accomplish #12, do something else, keep going

14. Visit New England in the Fall

15. Spend summer on the West Coast

16. Find the good in every person

17. New Years Eve in NYC

18. Mardi Gras in New Orleans

19. Oktoberfest in Munich

20. Learn Italian

21. Re-learn and become somewhat fluent in Spanish

22. Become fucking famous (local famous is fine, too)

23. Become a mom

24. Road. Trip.

25. Help bring out the better in other people

26. Develop patience

27. Resign from your corporate job in a manner you would only see in the movies

28. Read more (edit - at least two per month - I'll cross this off when I've done it 2yrs straight)

29. Maintain a form of a journal

30. Fall in love

31. Stop being so vengeful

32.  Fall in love with a sane person

33. Find a career that is personally fulfilling and rewarding

34. Attain a solid understanding of how the government works in my country.

35. Get to know my grandparents as people before they're gone (Edit - easily what I'm most thankful for crossing off this list)

36. Fall in love like a fucking adult (edit - this may happen, but I may never cross it off)

37. Make peace with (or without) my father

38. Be a better daughter

39. Fly a plane

40. Learn to communicate with people

So there it is. Make a list of your own. Push yourself. Experience shit. It's pretty fucking cool out there....

My Office Space Moment

I've been thinking about this post for weeks. And instead of writing it up all nice and pretty, taking time to choose my words carefully, and editing the shit out of it, I've decided to go with the "stream of consciousness, mental vomit, incoherent rambling" approach. You're welcome.

I've had this conversation with a few people, but need to really get it out there, and you know, then maybe it will become real. Or not. At least it's cathartic.
I decided, a couple of weeks ago, that this will be the year where I figure out what I want to do when I grow up. Let's take it back, all the way to 1996. My high school, bless it's little heart, didn't have any form of career counseling/planning program. We had one teacher who helped with scheduling ACT and SAT exams, college applications, and the most basic of advice on first year expectations, among her many other duties. I never took any sort of quiz that told me what I'd be good at, or what I'd enjoy. So, I went with what I'd been told from a young age: "You'd make a great lawyer." OK. Sure, what the hell. I get into my senior year of college, more than well on my way to a degree in Criminal Justice, with a focus on pre-law studies and very nearly a minor in psychology, and decide that I definitely do not want to be a lawyer. Maybe a cop, but not a lawyer.
In the meantime, I get a job, part time, making what I think at the time is a shit ton of money. I graduate, get promoted a couple of times, and all of a sudden I'm getting a 5-year watch and wondering what the fuck I was doing. I starting thinking about what I like to do. What I enjoy that I could make a living doing. I cook. It's something I enjoy; how I wind down after a shitty day. I think about culinary school, and formulate what are, at best, flimsy plans of looking into it. I realize after awhile that I can't take the pay cut, go into more debt, and risk making what I love to do something I have to do. Back to square one, except now it's been eight and a half years and I'm staring down the barrel of being 30. Shit.
I've been at the same job for a long time, a very long time considering my age. I'm good at what I do. But most of my time is spent attempting to refrain from sardonic tirades, thinly veiled contemptuous remarks, and jumping out a window.  I don't know what I want to do with my life, but I'm reasonably sure it isn't this. The thought of working my way up to a powerful position sounded good on the surface, but now it kind of turns my stomach. Would I love to have a fuckton of money? Sure. But the kind of money I'm thinking about (you know, fuck-you money) comes from running a multi-national company (doesn't it?). And the reality is, I'm probably too lazy and don't possess the drive to make that a reality, especially without having been well on my way in my early 20s.
But I digress. Back to my point. I don't know what I want to do. I've always thought I'd be happy doing anything, as long as I was good at it, but now I'm not entirely sure that's the case. I also realize, soberingly, that I may very well be on the path that will be my "career". Somewhere in my head I can come to grips with that, but only after really investigating the other options. That's the plan - see if there is something I can earn money doing that I enjoy and actually find rewarding, or resign myself to a career in an office and find enjoyment outside of my job. While I'm not a fan of the latter, it's probably the best option for making quite a bit of money and being able to afford all the ridiculous things I want to experience before I die.
Oh, first world problems...

Dinner with Alton

I wish. I'm pretty sure he was my first celebrity chef crush.

I have been a pretty loyal fan of Alton Brown for a long time. I remember the first time I saw Good Eats. My inner nerd totally ‘gasmed as he combined my only artistic ability (yeah, cooking is an art, fuck you) and the science of why behind it. He’s also great with bad puns, and tossing in sci-fi references all over place. As a result, I have attempted (and mostly succeeded) in replicating countless AB recipes. I’ve found his methods produce the absolute best versions of familiar foods. Blueberry buckle? Check. Soft Pretzels? Check. Shepherd’s Pie? Check. Thanksgiving fucking turkey? Fucking check. And I’ve got a working list of things I really, really want to do. Bread pudding? Steak Au Poivre? I’m looking at you.

I’ve found his tech books just as entertaining. Gear for Your Kitchen will inspire you to gut your cabinets and refill then with more efficient hardware. Admittedly, I’ve always had a hard-on for kitchen tech. I love gadgets. Alton takes a wonderful approach to this stuff. Basically. You don’t need it. Gadgets that do one thing only will waste space, gather dust, and ultimately wind up in your next garage sale. Ask me how I know. Go ahead.

But back to the food. Because, let’s be honest, that’s why we’re all here. This is, hands down, the best thing I’ve ever learned to make from watching Alton Brown. Not because it’s the best tasting (well, it’s close). Not because it looks great (cos really, it kinda looks like cat vomit). But because it’s crazy easy, huge on flavor, cheap, and pretty fast. It has become a regular on the weeknight dinner rotation for pretty much all of these reasons. And you know, you get that “Chinese Food Fix” so that you don’t actually call Jade

Palace and order like a Gilmore.

It’s called má yǐ shàng shù. Translated: Ants Climbing a Tree. True Story. I’ve seen a ton of variations around the interwebs, but as mentioned before – AB’s recipes always give me the best results for my taste. Maybe it comes down to the simplicity (he tends to use less ingredients), or my specifically strange palate. Whatever. This is good shit.

So anyway – it starts with bean thread noodles and ground pork. Soak the threads in hot water and season the pork in this amazing mix of soy sauce, mirin, and chili paste. Once that’s all marinated for a half hour, drain off the noodles and get ready for magic. Heat up a big pan with a little oil. Like, over high heat. Hot, motherfuckers. Toss in the meat, and brown it up while breaking it into teeny tiny pieces. Add some sliced green onions, and cook that down. Throw in some chicken stock to give more flavor and then it’s noodle

time. Add them by handfuls and toss with the meat till they are no longer clear/white and have absorbed the color of the marinade and stuff. The small bits of pork will also mix in and cling to the noodles here as well. Top it all off with more green onions, and drool. Try. I mean, really try…not to eat the entire pan by yourself.

So there you go – 35minutes total, 30 of which is just waiting while stuff chills out. If you want the legit recipe and step by step instructions, I'd encourage you to look it up. I am in no way passing this off as my recipe, so the least you can do is Google it.

Cat food. Or vomit. Ignore. It's delicious.

Mrs. Baird can Suck It

For the first full installment of “Look at me! I cook stuff!” I figured I’d talk about a few things I’ve already done, not so recently. Why? Because I have a list, and it’s easy. My laziness has already kicked in.

So, let’s talk about baking. More specifically, let’s talk about bread.

I’ve always said that cooking is an art, but baking is a science. Well, I never had a proper art class, but I wasn’t stellar at chemistry. So even though most of my baked goods turn out “good” they never seem to be “Ohmigod amazing.” Even if I follow a recipe exactly, they seem to lack a certain muchness. I mean, you know, unless it’s from a box. I can’t quite fuck those things up. The one strange exception for me has always been bread.

There is something amazing about making truly good bread from scratch. Maybe it’s the therapeutic act of kneading the shit out of something. Maybe it’s the feeling of connecting to the thousands of people before you in history who were baking bread before they could really walk. Maybe it’s the feeling you get from making something that most people never take the time to make. I mean, it’s just bread. It’s one of those grocery store staples that everyone picks up before swinging through the produce section. I think it’s some of all of these things for me. I love baking bread. Fucking love it. Is it a lot of work? Yeah, sometimes. Do you need to plan ahead to do it? Most of the time, yes. But man is it good for the ego, as it does impress a crowd. “What? You made this?!?! You’re amazing!”

Surely I’m not the only one who gets off on people loving the shit out of things I make…

So, let’s go back a couple years, to my first foray into making this “bread” thing that I had always just, you know, bought. Scott and I were hosting our first “Friend Hanukkah” in our new house, and like a crazy person, I wanted to MAKE ALL THE THINGS. So I made some of the things. Namely, latkes and challah. Even though I was assured I, in no way, had to *make* challah, I was stubborn, and insisted. Because I CAN DO IT DAMMIT. And I did. It was amazing. And it wasn’t just good, it was pretty.

Look at that shit. Fucking gorgeous

 It was so good, that Sabbath decided that he, too, would have a taste. Before everyone else. And by taste, I mean half of one loaf because he’s a sneaky asshole thief. But I loves him.

I mean, *look* at him…

Some quality time with Tha Cote in Colorado introduced me to this amazing savory, herby quick-bread. I have no pictures. It never lasts long enough. Same with the pumpkin bread that I dutifully make for Scott the instant it looks like it *might* be close to fall each year. In fact, the pumpkin bread is easily the bread I make the most. Because it’s fucking delicious. These two things require little more than a stand mixer, so I never truly think of them as bread. But they are, so they get a mention. You’re welcome, you delicious quick-breads, you.

One day at work, many months later, while obviously not working, I got this insane compulsion to make bread. I wanted to mix dough and knead it and watch it rise and smell it through the house. Badly. And I wanted it that day. Welcome to Scott’s world. I’m an only child and when I decide that something is going to happen, there is very little in the ‘verse that can be done to stop it. So, I scoured the interwebs for some recipes that fell somewhere between a quick bread and “real” bread. Since I had no patience this day, I needed something that didn’t have to rise for seven thousand hours. I ended up making this rustic Italian boule. I like how it even had a crack in the crust that made it look like a demented Pac-man.

This was, in fact, the very same week that I decided, on a whim, to make pretzels at 10pm after watching an episode of Good Eats. Oh, Alton, how I love you. But that’s another blog…

I Believe I was Told There Would be Cake

I’ve noticed a pattern.

Most of my entries start out similar to this: “Wow I haven’t written in awhile.”

And somewhere contain this: “I’m going to write more.”

But clearly, that’s not happening. I read the blogs of others and get all inspired and shit for minutes, but inevitably lose focus when it comes down to actually doing something productive. Actually, this happens in almost every aspect of my life, unless it’s cooking. I’ll get off my lazy ass at ridiculous hours and bust out an amazing culinary experiment, something for which I’m sure Scott is ever grateful (or should be). The most recent example was my sudden urge to make soft pretzels from scratch at 10pm on a Thursday. They were amazing.

You get a sideways view because I lack the motivation to figure out how to re-orient the photo, despite it being right-side up in the folder and every other goddamn viewer I have. Fuck you, blogger.

So I’ve started to wonder if it’s a lack of focus or subject matter that keeps me from writing, or simple laziness. I’m willing to bet it’s a little of both, but altering one might keep the other at bay for a time. We’ll see.

I don’t want a running diary. I don’t need to chronicle all happenings of my life. No one cares. True story. Those who want and need to know can keep more than up-to-date through my witty and amazing status updates on Facebook. Although, in reality, people should care. I do have a pretty amazing life, and it’s crammed full of all manner of interesting things. I play roller derby for fuck’s sake. That alone should yield an immeasurable cache of blog-fodder. Surprisingly it doesn’t. Most of my thoughts about the sport are of my own inadequacies and struggles – the likes of which me ego will not allow me share. Other things that are, in fact hilarious I feel a mafia-like compulsion to “keep in the family” for our own dear eyes and ears only.

I don’t have memorable dreams. Weird shit doesn’t tend to happen to me on a daily basis. I could write about all the things that make me angry, but that’s quite the list and we’ve already addressed my lack of commitment to writing on a regular basis. There's serious shit that goes down, but that isn't food for the masses, either. Maybe I'm too private a person to be an effective blogger. That could be true...So I end up being at a loss for what to rant about on a semi-regular basis.

So let's start with food (cos that's never a bad idea...)

Friday night was "Show Scott what Authentic Italian Food Really Is" night. So I made grilled shrimp with creamy polenta. It was....good. Not as magical as I wanted it to be. I have come to a sad realization that polenta may be one of those stupid things that I can't cook. Not even using the instant version. I'm determined to get the hang of it, and make it amazing. He thought it was magical, so I'll take the win, but I'll need to tweak it to make it perfect. 

This was also my first foray into "from scratch, using fresh tomatoes" sauces. It was tasty as shit, but I'm not a fan of what tomato skins do when you cook them. Surely there's a solution to this, yes?

Sometimes, I Suck At Life

Mainly because I had these great plans of keeping an updated blog this year, but notsomuch. I have a tendency to let stuff like this go when I'm taking classes - since I choose to spend my "down time" doing what most resembles "absolutely nothing."

So today, I'm going for an information dump, with the best of intentions to keep this going at least over the summer while I'm not in school. Wish me luck.

2011 Goals:
After being inspired by Tha Cote (as is often the case), I actually wrote down a list of goals for the year. I'm not going to post an exhaustive update, but I'm more on track than I thought I'd be, which is good. I've gotten off my ass and have lost about 12lbs since February, but that's just enough to piss me off and get me motivated to do more. Stay tuned. I'm consistently putting less shit into my body - over processed crap, meat, stuff my great grandmother wouldn't recognize as food. The next step involves this little gem:

I'm not saying I'm hoppin on the eCig train, but I'm taking it downtown for an afternoon to see how it goes. This handy little guy is a disposable version so I can give it a test run without dropping a hundo on a full setup.

MBA:
I am not officially halfway done. I should be more excited about this, but at this point all I can think of is....shit, I'm only halfway done.

Simplify:
Well...sometimes I think I've made progress, sometimes I think I've made it worse. We successfully pared down the contents of the kitchen, to just what we actually use. I still want to do more. The garage now has a respectable "we should have a garage sale" pile. But I'm torn between actually taking the time to do that, or craigs listing it up - since I'm notorious for taking good care of my shit, and could feasibly get some decent cash.
The next step is the office and a lot of the paper things in this house...

Speaking of The House:
We totally got new floors put in a couple months ago. It seriously changes the way the whole place feels.

The Living Room, and what Tha Cote calls my chocolate floors.

And the kitchen, still shiny for the last cleanup.

Derby Derby Derby:
I'm continually amazed that this little thing that snuck into the back of my brain months ago has turned into what it has. See my earlier comments about getting off my ass. It's kind of magical - finding something that makes me better, and that I actually enjoy doing. Kind of makes me wonder where it's been all my life.
So, I got through the first 90 days, and passed assessment - I remember thinking how excited I should have been (which I was) but all I could really think about was how much farther I had to go. An instant list of "shit I want to be better at" started forming in my head. So, as is my typical "steal my own joy" self, I feel less like I accomplished something and more like a beginner again. It's weird. I'm not normal.
Having said that, I've met some amazing women, and several of them are my new heroes.

I suck at wrap-up paragraphs - sad, because I used to be an amazing writer - so this time, you don't get one.