Life continues to be a bit on the wild side. I've cooked, I have photos, but it's just the matter of finding the TIME to put them up. I could do them at the shop but I will admit that I don't care to try and do cut and paste with the laptop versus the desktop. Silly, I know, but I seem to develop Gorilla Paws at times like that and end up spending more time mating various expository phrases together than actually sucessfully manuvering the computer to do what I want it to do.
At this point, I suppose I should do some kind of self-inspirational thing about how I will not be beaten by a silly little piece of technology, but it's early and I haven't had coffee yet, so...no.
Along with life, my mother has added a couple new wrinkles to the daily goings-on of the Cyber Hermit. Long story short, she and my father had used the same gardener for about 15 years. Gardner Dude came over to the US with barely anything and knocked on our door one day asking for work. My dad agreed and thus the relationship was born. Since then, GD has managed to build up a small landscaping business that employs mostly friends and family.
He's still been working for my mom since my dad's death but things seemed to be slightly off-kilter. Sprinklers would break...a lot. Mom would request things be done and they would...six weeks or so later. GD would appear only to drop off workers who spoke no English (hence Mom could not communicate with them about what she wanted done since her kids speak Spanish but she does not) and then disappear. She would make comments about how his rates seemed to be going up or he seemed to be charging a lot but she would never send the statements so we (me or my brother) could see them. We had a feeling it wasn't good but, without proof or tangible documentation, we couldn't really do anything except urge her to look finding another company to replace GD.
Then GD started getting creepy. He has asked my mother to give him $60,000. Not loan. Give. As if the audacity of asking her for $60,000 wasn't enough, he apparently just figured she would gift it to him. He's also made several comments about how my father "wanted GD to have the house". You know, maybe I've got rose-colored glasses on, but I'm reasonably sure that my father would not have said, "Hey, GD. When I die? I want you to have the house. I'm sure my wife won't mind handing it over and moving out" which is pretty much GD's line of inquiry when he brings up that comment.
This week, he hands my mother the bill for the month's worth of services. He didn't build any planters to rival the Tower of Babel. He didn't excavate, remove and replant the rows of avocado trees on the property. He didn't buy the parts and reinstall an entire sprinkler system. He or his employees spent probably an hour or two there each week either mowing, weeding, or trimming the flowers and bushes on the front walk.
For this, he wants to charge her $7000. SEVEN FRAKKING THOUSAND DOLLARS. A bill that is written out on a piece of paper with no itemization as to tasks done or time spent; no receipts for any supposed supplies bought. Just "Here's your bill. I'll stand here and wait while you write the check." You know, this is one of the times I actually regret a little bit that I live across the country. Why? Because it prevents me from KICKING HIS ASS.
I just...I cannot understand for the life of me how people apparently choose or decide it's a good thing/an okay thing (or whatever you want to call it) to take advantage of the elderly. He's had a relationship with my family for fifteen years and now that my mom is alone, GD apparently decides it's fitting to start soaking my mother for extra cash. Greed is mind-boggling.
My brother and I have stepped in at this point. We gave my mother a written statement to hand to GD, letting him know that the bill would not even be looked at for potential payment until he provided all documentation to justify what he claims is owed and faxes it all to us. When presented with this statement, GD told my mother it would take "at least two weeks for him to find all this but he'd settle for $500 right now". I then spent yesterday calling landscape maintenance companies and setting up appointments for them to go to my mom's house and give her an estimate on the work she wants done.
And because we don't know if my dad ever gave GD a key as well as the asking for large sums of money and creepy comments about how GD is supposed to have the house, we had my mom change the locks on the house yesterday.
So, way to go, GD. Way to make an elderly woman who has been nothing but nice to you feel upset and afraid, and have to call her children crying because she doesn't know what to do and is worried what will happen if she doesn't pay the bill. Hope you've got enough other properties to make up that $7,000 you were trying to get my mother to pay you. There is a silver lining in this; however, it's for me and not you. I will get to smile over the phone when I call you up and tell you that your services are no longer required and that you are never to darken my mother's doorstep again, and you'd better just deal with it. Because, in the words of the Incredible Hulk:
"Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
22 October 2009
28 September 2009
Like a slightly befuddled, chubby phoenix, it rises from...something
Gah. Almost an entire month went by. I have lots of pictures on my ancient digital camera (hereinafter known as, I think, the ADC or the Brontosaurus) of recipes and such. There has just been a lot going on and...brain hurty now.
First, my mother. My brother and I have been working her towards moving and she's begun the process of clearing out stuff from the house minus the bulldozer we thought about sending to her. I mean...wow. She and my dad lived in this house since 1974 so there is, er, quite the accumulation. I'm pretty sure any joke about Jimmy Hoffa and his potential whereabouts has a punchline regarding some room in my mom's house. During our phone conversations, I have asked at least once during the conversation "Mom, do you even have any idea what is in Closet X?" (or Drawer Y...Filing Cabinet Z...the rafters of the garage...so on and so forth)
The latest parental experience was that her landline was broken for two days. I normally call her every night but wasn't able to until the second day. At that point, I get recordings of some lobotomized phone company employee saying, "The party you are trying to reach is not answering and this call will be disconnected." This continues for four hours. My brother can't reach her, either.
Cue visions of my mother lying somewhere on the floor unable to reach help and sounding uncomfortably like that woman in the "I've fallen and can't get up" commercial. Not to mention that, with no landline, she has no access to Life Alert...if she was even wearing it (another story for another time).
Now, I'm ten hours away at minimum - depending on when I could get a plane flight. My brother is ninety minutes away. He's getting into his car at 10 p.m. to make the drive to my mom's house when she finally calls his cell phone to tell him about the landline. Apparently, the magical phone fairies were going to fix it.
No. I'm not kidding.
Long story short, Mom was made to call the phone company to get the phones working. Mom also now has a new cell phone that she WILL FREAKING USE versus simply ignoring the one that was in her purse.
And my brother and I are exhausted.
Moving on...when you run a business and hire a 17-year-old whose stated hero/idol/I-wanna-be-just-like-her role model is Paris Hilton? You're in for interesting times.
We've had a couple no-call/no-shows with the following lecture of when you're supposed to be at work by 11, it helps if you actually get up before 11; take a note. Several interesting stories about tickets for speeding, getting caught in the parking lot of the mall in the wee hours "doing nothing", etc.
Plus, I've been working a lot more hours there in addition to my regular job, which can make for a grumpy hermit sometimes. But, seriously, for the love of toast, if you don't want to work anymore, at least have the courtesy to give some kind of notice rather than just completely stop showing up and not returning any phone calls. Paris Hilton shows up to the opening of a fricking envelope.
People. They make me crazy.
First, my mother. My brother and I have been working her towards moving and she's begun the process of clearing out stuff from the house minus the bulldozer we thought about sending to her. I mean...wow. She and my dad lived in this house since 1974 so there is, er, quite the accumulation. I'm pretty sure any joke about Jimmy Hoffa and his potential whereabouts has a punchline regarding some room in my mom's house. During our phone conversations, I have asked at least once during the conversation "Mom, do you even have any idea what is in Closet X?" (or Drawer Y...Filing Cabinet Z...the rafters of the garage...so on and so forth)
The latest parental experience was that her landline was broken for two days. I normally call her every night but wasn't able to until the second day. At that point, I get recordings of some lobotomized phone company employee saying, "The party you are trying to reach is not answering and this call will be disconnected." This continues for four hours. My brother can't reach her, either.
Cue visions of my mother lying somewhere on the floor unable to reach help and sounding uncomfortably like that woman in the "I've fallen and can't get up" commercial. Not to mention that, with no landline, she has no access to Life Alert...if she was even wearing it (another story for another time).
Now, I'm ten hours away at minimum - depending on when I could get a plane flight. My brother is ninety minutes away. He's getting into his car at 10 p.m. to make the drive to my mom's house when she finally calls his cell phone to tell him about the landline. Apparently, the magical phone fairies were going to fix it.
No. I'm not kidding.
Long story short, Mom was made to call the phone company to get the phones working. Mom also now has a new cell phone that she WILL FREAKING USE versus simply ignoring the one that was in her purse.
And my brother and I are exhausted.
Moving on...when you run a business and hire a 17-year-old whose stated hero/idol/I-wanna-be-just-like-her role model is Paris Hilton? You're in for interesting times.
We've had a couple no-call/no-shows with the following lecture of when you're supposed to be at work by 11, it helps if you actually get up before 11; take a note. Several interesting stories about tickets for speeding, getting caught in the parking lot of the mall in the wee hours "doing nothing", etc.
Plus, I've been working a lot more hours there in addition to my regular job, which can make for a grumpy hermit sometimes. But, seriously, for the love of toast, if you don't want to work anymore, at least have the courtesy to give some kind of notice rather than just completely stop showing up and not returning any phone calls. Paris Hilton shows up to the opening of a fricking envelope.
People. They make me crazy.
28 August 2009
Roasted Tomato Soup
I flove tomatoes. My husband, unfortunately, thinks they are of the devil and quotes George Carlin anytime I try to feed them to him in any form other than a sauce or salsa - basically something that contains large chunks of 'mater is not for him. Therefore, I don't make this soup very often since it makes a lot and it's only me that will eat it, but it tastes so good when I do.
2.5 lbs fresh tomatoes (I use a mix of whatever is at the store and looks good)
6 cloves garlic, peeled
2 small yellow onions, sliced
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 quart chicken stock
2 bay leaves
4 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup chopped fresh basil leaves, optional
3/4 cup heavy cream, optional
Madeira sherry, optional
Directions
Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
Wash, core and cut the tomatoes into halves. Spread the tomatoes, garlic cloves and onion slices onto a baking tray. Drizzle with 1/2 cup of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast for 20 to 30 minutes, or until carmelized.
Remove roasted tomatoes, garlic and onion from the oven and transfer to a large stock pot. Add 3/4 of the chicken stock, bay leaves, and butter. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes or until liquid has reduced by a third.
Wash and dry basil leaves, if using, and add to the pot. Use an immersion blender to puree the soup until smooth. Return soup to low heat, add cream and adjust consistency with remaining stock, if necessary. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.
I like making this soup first of all because I think it tastes much better than any tomato soup you could buy on the market *and* it allows me to control what's going into it - including salt. I also like making it because there is just something so comforting about watching a big pot of soup come together bit by bit and turn from dark red to almost pale pink after adding the cream; and smelling it as it cooks? Yum.
Using the immersion blender helps take care of any large pieces of skin or pulp as well as blend the tomatoes with the garlic and onion. You *could* squeeze the pulp out of the tomatoes before you start but I generally don't. Sometimes I've strained the soup after blending it to remove any larger pieces of skin/pulp or tomato seeds but I don't find it necessary. I like a more rustic feel to the soup but you could do it if you don't care for the texture of the occasional piece of tomato skin or seed.
The addition of cream changes it into more than just tomato broth. It gives an added weight on the tongue that is much more velvety and smooth than a broth would be; it helps eliminate some of the acidic nature of the tomatoes. I also like using the shery for just a little bit of bite. It blends well with the cream and tomatoes and leaves a nice aftertaste on the tongue - kind of an extra layer of flavor you're not expecting and are pleasantly surprised by it.
I don't have an exact measurement for this; rather, I pour a little bit at a time and let the soup continue to simmer over low heat until the sherry is blended and then taste, adding more salt and/or pepper if necessary. Once I was out of sherry and ended up using some Absolut Vodka in a pinch and that also worked well. I guess you could call it a cousin to the Bloody Mary :).
This soup is great with some nice crusty bread smeared with butter or some Wheat Thins and sharp cheddar cheese.
(recipe from Tyler Florence via Food Network)
Ingredients:
2.5 lbs fresh tomatoes (I use a mix of whatever is at the store and looks good)
6 cloves garlic, peeled
2 small yellow onions, sliced
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 quart chicken stock
2 bay leaves
4 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup chopped fresh basil leaves, optional
3/4 cup heavy cream, optional
Madeira sherry, optional
Directions
Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
Wash, core and cut the tomatoes into halves. Spread the tomatoes, garlic cloves and onion slices onto a baking tray. Drizzle with 1/2 cup of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast for 20 to 30 minutes, or until carmelized.
Remove roasted tomatoes, garlic and onion from the oven and transfer to a large stock pot. Add 3/4 of the chicken stock, bay leaves, and butter. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes or until liquid has reduced by a third.
Wash and dry basil leaves, if using, and add to the pot. Use an immersion blender to puree the soup until smooth. Return soup to low heat, add cream and adjust consistency with remaining stock, if necessary. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.
I like making this soup first of all because I think it tastes much better than any tomato soup you could buy on the market *and* it allows me to control what's going into it - including salt. I also like making it because there is just something so comforting about watching a big pot of soup come together bit by bit and turn from dark red to almost pale pink after adding the cream; and smelling it as it cooks? Yum.
Using the immersion blender helps take care of any large pieces of skin or pulp as well as blend the tomatoes with the garlic and onion. You *could* squeeze the pulp out of the tomatoes before you start but I generally don't. Sometimes I've strained the soup after blending it to remove any larger pieces of skin/pulp or tomato seeds but I don't find it necessary. I like a more rustic feel to the soup but you could do it if you don't care for the texture of the occasional piece of tomato skin or seed.
The addition of cream changes it into more than just tomato broth. It gives an added weight on the tongue that is much more velvety and smooth than a broth would be; it helps eliminate some of the acidic nature of the tomatoes. I also like using the shery for just a little bit of bite. It blends well with the cream and tomatoes and leaves a nice aftertaste on the tongue - kind of an extra layer of flavor you're not expecting and are pleasantly surprised by it.
I don't have an exact measurement for this; rather, I pour a little bit at a time and let the soup continue to simmer over low heat until the sherry is blended and then taste, adding more salt and/or pepper if necessary. Once I was out of sherry and ended up using some Absolut Vodka in a pinch and that also worked well. I guess you could call it a cousin to the Bloody Mary :).
This soup is great with some nice crusty bread smeared with butter or some Wheat Thins and sharp cheddar cheese.
14 August 2009
I haz(d) a plan!
I write on occasion. Nothing much and now mostly just stories for friends using characters from old gaming sessions or jumping off from crackfic we wrote years ago. A scene or a snippet of conversation will pop in my head and I'll play around with it for *mumble*years*mumble* until I have something I think is worth sharing, and then I'll send it to that person for their birthday or whatever. Because I write at the pace of a glacier melting during the ice age, I try never to promise anything by a particular date. Bad writing karma.
Well...
I had this story I was working on for a dear friend. Known her for years, gamed with her, wrote with her through thick and thin. We haven't written together for a long time but we still haz friendship :). Anyway, I'm actually going along very well on a story I'd been thinking about for a long time - a kind of "what if we really were bastards and did kill Kenny?" kind of thing. *rubs hands together*
I start working on it and I'm about 25 pages in when my brain suddenly decides to hijack the proceedings with one wee little thought: "Hey, self. Did you ever wonder how Person X got from Point A to Point B?"
Me: "Well, yes. But I'm over here with Person Y right now."
Brain: "OK. That's fine. You stay over there but I'm going to go jaunt over this way now."
Where does that leave me? 3,845 words (and growing) about a whole 'nother character on a completely unrelated topic!
My friend. She sucks. And it's all her fault.
But I love her anyway.
Well...
I had this story I was working on for a dear friend. Known her for years, gamed with her, wrote with her through thick and thin. We haven't written together for a long time but we still haz friendship :). Anyway, I'm actually going along very well on a story I'd been thinking about for a long time - a kind of "what if we really were bastards and did kill Kenny?" kind of thing. *rubs hands together*
I start working on it and I'm about 25 pages in when my brain suddenly decides to hijack the proceedings with one wee little thought: "Hey, self. Did you ever wonder how Person X got from Point A to Point B?"
Me: "Well, yes. But I'm over here with Person Y right now."
Brain: "OK. That's fine. You stay over there but I'm going to go jaunt over this way now."
Where does that leave me? 3,845 words (and growing) about a whole 'nother character on a completely unrelated topic!
My friend. She sucks. And it's all her fault.
But I love her anyway.
12 August 2009
Maximus is not amused
There are some days where it quietly, gently, ever-so-subtly goes to hell. Then there are days where you walk in and the moment you do, the shit misses the fan and hits your face.
This day was just...weird.
I came into work, unlocked the room that needed said service, and then opened up my office to boot up my computer and check whatever e-mails came in overnight from desperate students. But soft! What light on yonder phone blinks? It is my voice mail!
I punch in my code and I hear one of the professors telling me that it's now 11:30 at night and he's going to bed. Would I be so good to call his house at 8 a.m. to wake him up?
There is not enough coffee in the world to make that request make sense. I probably stared at the phone for about thirty seconds thinking, "The hell? No wife? All your alarm clocks were stolen? Did I sleep at a Holiday Inn Express last night?"
The answer to all three questions pretty much being "no", I called, let the phone ring twice and hung up. The professor in question called back to tell me his wife beat me to it.
Yeah.
Then I faxed over new business card requests to our PR office to have them approved. I got a call from the fax-ee telling me that I should scan and e-mail instead since that is free and their fax cartridges cost money.
Ooooookay. So, it's really not a fax. It's just a fax-shaped paperweight?
After that, the Student Who Makes and Cancels Appointments called to set up another appointment. It's like my own personal Groundhog Day.
The kicker for the day was when my husband forwarded me an e-mail with a letter attached. This letter was from a New York law office and told us that we must immediately (a) change the name of our coffee shop and (b) immediately desist from offering live music under our current name or they're going to sue us. Apparently, a 40 seat coffee house in the South is competition for a club in New York. The mind, she boggles. The eyes, they roll. The check, it goes to the lawyer.
Now I'm going to make a rather LARGE drink and hope that I don't choke on an ice cube or slip on a banana peel or something that would really make the day complete.
07 August 2009
In Memoriam - Two Years Later
This is probably my favorite picture of my Dad. He's got his dog who adores him (and he adores her) and he's on one of his many motorhome trips.
He wasn't a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination. He was always ready for play sometimes to the detriment of work. He kept some secrets that have those he left behind still puzzled two years later. But he loved us. That was never in doubt.
Two years on and the most immediate, sharp pain of his death has muted but looking at the picture still brings tears to my eyes and I have to clear my throat before I can pick up the phone when it rings at my desk. When death is sudden, it's almost like someone has pressed "pause" on your relationship with that person. You keep waiting to finish; finish that conversation you started, the phone call...something to create some type of closure that you can use to mark it as "the end". Doesn't come, though, and you're left in some kind of holding pattern. There are times I call my parents' house just to hear his voice on the answering machine. I still expect him to call me for my birthday, and the first time I addressed a package solely to my mother felt alien and just plain wrong to me.
We've all worked on picking up the pieces. My mother has made great strides in some areas, yet remains (as I've said) aggressively passive in other areas of her life. I finally finished college and marched through the line to get my diploma while holding the above picture in my hands instead of having him watching from the audience. My brother has become a sort of financial advisor to my mother and supplies visits from the nephews. His favorite granddaughter got married to the young man he liked so much. The first great-grandchild arrived this year.
I call her every night as I have since the day he died and talk to her for however long she wants. Some times it's only a few minutes and other times it can be an hour or more. We talk about what she did that day, what she's watching on TV, church and, of course, about my dad; especially around this time. She wants to be with him and I remind her that she will be. She wants to know when and cries about why can't it be now and I have to tell her I don't know why, trying to reassure her in all my imperfect, linear understanding of God and his existence and plans outside time and space.
When I spoke at my dad's memorial service, the thing I kept coming back to was his gift of hospitality, his generosity of heart. Those were the memories people told me about as I was writing my eulogy and those are the memories spoken of when I run into friends of his these days. As far as legacies go, I think it's a good one when you're remembered with smiles and laughter.
Tonight I will press "play" for a little while. I will sit out on the back porch with a drink and tell him how Mom is doing and she will make that trip to Alaska, how his grandson thought he'd found the woman of his dreams, how his great-granddaughter is almost four months old, and how I love him and miss him.
I love you, Dad. See you tonight.
28 July 2009
Curried Pineapple Banana Bread
(recipe courtesy of closetcooking.blogspot.com)
I loves me some bread. I also like to bake it. However, although pie crust is my nemesis, bread can be fickle for me. Therefore, I generally tend to stay with batters and mixes versus yeast, rising, et cetera and so forth. I saw this bread and though it looked good. I love pineapple and bananas and the thought of curry intrigued me, so I saved the recipe and recently tried it out.
Each set of ingredients makes one loaf.
Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons curry powder
3 ripe bananas (mashed)
1/2 cup butter (melted)
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 tablespoon lime juice
1 cup pineapple (I used Dole pineapple tidbits)
2 tablespoons unsweetened coconut flakes
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Mix the flour, baking soda, salt and curry powder in a bowl.
3. Mix the bananas, butter, sugars, egg and lime juice in another bowl.
4. Mix the dry ingredients into the wet.
5. Mix in the pineapple and coconut.
6. Pour the batter into a greased 9x5 inch loaf pan.
7. Bake until a tooth pick pushed into the center comes out clean, about 60 minutes.
Unfortunately, I have an ancient digital camera and the picture of the finished product is not as sharp as I would like it to be. Let me point out, however, that the bread itself is YUMMY. It's very moist, almost cake-like. For anyone who thinks the curry sounds weird, it hits your tongue in a way that's very similar to cinnamon. The curry powder combined with the sugar and the banana registers as much more of a "sweet" heat than a "hot" or "spicy" heat like it does in more savory dishes. In fact, if I didn't know I'd put curry in the batter, I would have thought there was cinnamon in the bread instead.
This would also be good toasted on a rack in the oven for a few minutes to dry it a little bit and give it a little crispiness on the outside, then buttered. Or, as a dessert (again toasted) with some vanilla ice cream on it.
This will definitely go in the keeper file.
I loves me some bread. I also like to bake it. However, although pie crust is my nemesis, bread can be fickle for me. Therefore, I generally tend to stay with batters and mixes versus yeast, rising, et cetera and so forth. I saw this bread and though it looked good. I love pineapple and bananas and the thought of curry intrigued me, so I saved the recipe and recently tried it out.
Each set of ingredients makes one loaf.
Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons curry powder
3 ripe bananas (mashed)
1/2 cup butter (melted)
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1 tablespoon lime juice
1 cup pineapple (I used Dole pineapple tidbits)
2 tablespoons unsweetened coconut flakes
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Mix the flour, baking soda, salt and curry powder in a bowl.
3. Mix the bananas, butter, sugars, egg and lime juice in another bowl.
4. Mix the dry ingredients into the wet.
5. Mix in the pineapple and coconut.
6. Pour the batter into a greased 9x5 inch loaf pan.
7. Bake until a tooth pick pushed into the center comes out clean, about 60 minutes.
Unfortunately, I have an ancient digital camera and the picture of the finished product is not as sharp as I would like it to be. Let me point out, however, that the bread itself is YUMMY. It's very moist, almost cake-like. For anyone who thinks the curry sounds weird, it hits your tongue in a way that's very similar to cinnamon. The curry powder combined with the sugar and the banana registers as much more of a "sweet" heat than a "hot" or "spicy" heat like it does in more savory dishes. In fact, if I didn't know I'd put curry in the batter, I would have thought there was cinnamon in the bread instead.
This would also be good toasted on a rack in the oven for a few minutes to dry it a little bit and give it a little crispiness on the outside, then buttered. Or, as a dessert (again toasted) with some vanilla ice cream on it.
This will definitely go in the keeper file.
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