Category: good eats

What Black Friday Means to You….

…means something else entirely to me.

November 25th isn’t just the day after Thanksgiving, at least not in my family.

Today isn’t shopping in my world. What this day means to me trends more toward apple pie. No, not pumpkin. Apple.

That’s because today would have been my father’s 80th birthday. He was a rather cantankerous fella, and he didn’t like celebrating holidays or birthdays much. He didn’t like cake either.

Ice cream worked just fine. And occasionally an apple pie. That was his favorite. A simple apple pie and vanilla ice cream.

Dad always got a bit of short shrift by having a birthday that was either the day of Thanksgiving, or right nearby. Since he wasn’t much of a holiday kind of guy, I guess that didn’t matter.

Never one to be deterred by crankiness, mom would whip up an apple pie. Then after we ate dinner but before bedtime, we’d each get a slice of pie with some vanilla ice cream. If we were lucky, the pie was still hot from the oven and the ice cream would melt and we’d eat and have something like a nice family moment together.

Not long after I moved to the Bay Area, my mom, dad and sister came to visit me in my tiny apartment. I made Thanksgiving dinner, the full spread, in my ancient kitchen. And of course, I made an apple pie for dad.

It’s at the holidays when tradition seems to matter the most. So even though it was sometimes a little rocky living in the house with the incredibly strong personality that defined my dad, having pie on his birthday is still tradition.

Today, while the world shops and fights over deals on big screen TVs, I’m a little quieter. A little more thoughtful.

I asked The Good Man if he wanted me to make another pie (we already finished the pumpkin pie from yesterday). He said “maybe cherry?”

Yes. Cherry. Perhaps our new tradition begins today.






Photo by Crystal Woroniuk and used royalty free from stock.xchng.


Letter To Be Posted On The Office Fridge

Dear Coworkers:

There are some things you should know about me…..Not the least of which is: I am *staunchly* opposed to any and all theft of lunch food from our mutually shared and oh-so-handy full sized office refrigerator.

We all work a lot of hours. I think it’s important that we all get along. It’s vital that we all feel free to pack a lovely, delicious, enticing lunch to provide some comfort to break up the hectic pace we all have to endure here at this Big Ol’ Company.

Times are tough. Bring-your-own bagged lunches are on the rise.

But so is lunch theft. It isn’t pretty and it isn’t nice.

Let me tell you, all of you crazy assed ladies who bring in that no fat, no salt, no fun frozen shrink wrapped plastic foods with the word “healthy” somewhere in the title….you have nothing to worry about. Your crap is safe. No one wants that.

You, dude who brings in your wife’s amazing looking homemade Indian food? Watch yourself. That smells soooo good in the microwave every day and I confess I have considered ripping you off in a big way.

Despite being vehemently opposed to the theft of office fridge food, I have…wondered. Thought. Ok, yes, I have had lust in my heart for that Ziploc bag with an luscious looking sandwich inside and no other identifying information.

The person who left that adorable teeny tiny pumpkin pie on the top of your lunch sack last week, visible for all to see? You almost lost that. I *seriously* contemplated the crime. It would have been so easy.

But when such thoughts arise, I step back. I take a deep breath. I go into myself and remember my own personal values, my morals, and I remember how bitched out I got when someone stole my Pop Chips (I will hunt you down and do horrifying things to you with a staple remover, dear thieving coworker, be certain of that).

Then I find my core of strength and I step away. I remember how wrong lunch bag theft is. Then I hold my head high and refrain.

But today. Today is a test I’m not sure I can pass.

Evidently the group that sits on the other side of this floor is having themselves a little party today. So they are storing some goodies in our fridge because theirs is full.

Do you know what is sitting in my fridge, right now, on the shelf right above my own little lunch bag?

A HUGE PLATTER OF DEVILED EGGS.

Deviled eggs! Yards of them! It’s an enormous platter! No one would miss a few, right? Peel back the Saran Wrap, throw a couple back, chomp, and walk away scot-free.

Do you people really think I am made to resist deviled eggs? I am not!

Get behind me, Satan!

Even the most morally just have a breaking point. And you just found mine.

So I post this letter by way of saying….get them the hell out of my fridge or they are going away and they are going away fast.

And why wasn’t I invited to the party, you uptight Finance freaks?

Wait a minute! I bet one of you took my Pop Chips.

Gimme some deviled eggs and I won’t come at you with my staple remover!

Gimme, gimme, gimme……..







Image from the Thindulge blog, though in no way do I advocate healthy-ifying deviled eggs. The photo was just too pretty to pass up.


A Blue-skying Kind of Thursday

Ok, today’s Theme Thursday word is: gourd

Seems topical, right? Seasonal? A good theme for the beginning of November.

However, I think we’re all struggling with this one. I know I sure am.

So when I’m stuck, it’s time to do a brainstorming session (what the marketing folks call blue-skying).

Here we go… This is random association. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.

Gourd.

Gourds.

Gourdish.

Gourdy.

Barry Gordy

Barry Gordy, Jr.’s son Rockwell.

“I always feeeeel like, somebody’s watchiiing meeeee.”

Paranoia.

Backing vocals by Michael Jackson

That Michael Jackson doctor guy was found guilty.

That whole thing is really weird.

Ok, this is a dead end (wow oh wow….pun TOTALLY not intended).

Back up to “I always feeeeel like, somebody’s watchiiing meeeee.”

Watching.

Lately I’ve been watching that TV show Pan Am

It’s a pretty good show.

Airlines.

Flying.

When did people get so unclassy when they fly? I mean, people will roll their over heavy roller bag (that they can’t possibly lift into the overhead bin) over your foot just to grab at a tiny bag of peanuts.

It wears me out.

Ok, this is going nowhere.

Back it up to gourd.

Gourds.

Cornucopia.

Pilgrims.

Thanksgiving.

Masssssshhhhed poooootatoes…..: droooool :

Ok. Now I’m just hungry.

And I’ve made no progress on the whole gourd issue.

So I’ll leave you with this: A website dedicated to gourds.

The World of Gourds

And now, at the end of this rambling, shambling blog post dedicated to gourds, on the day after I wrote a whole post about floors, I can only say…..

I must be totally out of my gourd.



Photo by W.P. Armstrong, Copyright 2007, and found on The World of Gourds website.


A Face From The Past

While visiting L.A. this weekend, we had a chance to pile into a convertible and take a drive up and over the hill to Burbank.

It was there I ran into a childhood friend.

A face I can never forget.





Last time I saw this creepy somnabitch he was in Albuquerque, standing on the corner of San Mateo and Montgomery, right across the street from Del Norte High School.

He showed up once or twice in the high school parking lot, too. Looking an awful lot like this:





In fact, over the years he hasn’t changed a bit.

Ok, sure, that hairdo is wildly outdated. Those shifty eyes make me nervous. And those plaid pants! Ugh!

But he still cooks up a real fine breakfast.







Photos from the Burbank Bob’s Big Boy, originally opened in 1949. All photos by Karen Fayeth and subject to the Creative Commons license displayed on the right column of this page.