Oooh, that’s troubling

Last evening, I was heating up some soup on my electric stove. I managed to drop a bit right in that space between burner coil and the stovetop.

So, stupidly, I stuck my finger down in there to wipe it out. I was thinking, at the time, I don’t want that bit of soup to burn and smoke up the place.

Predictably, my finger accidentally touched the now hot burner coil, and instead of burning soup, I burned my skin.

I leapt back then turned quickly to the sink to run the burn under cold water.

As I rinsed the burn, I thought, “hmm, my food sure smells good!”

The soup was still on the burner, beginning to warm up.

Only problem was, the soup was tomato, and the smell I was savoring had a more meaty tone.

I turned to look, and saw a little smoke rising from the burner from under the pan. It was then I realized that the little bit of skin I’d left behind from the burn was now cooking, a little tomato soup on top for seasoning.

Let me say that again. What I thought, “ooh that smells tasty” about was my OWN SKIN cooking.

I’m now a little skeeved out at myself.

It’s like meeting a really great guy at the party, only to find out he’s your first cousin.

It’s how Luke Skywalker felt when he found out that the woman he’d been perving out about was his twin sister.

The Good Man does, occasionally, refer to me as his “tasty little morsel.”

I just never knew that was also true pan-fried and served with a side of rice.

And a nice chianti.

: shudder :

Woo! Thank you!

Hit 115 visitors yesterday, a new record for my little blog that could!

Thanks to all the eyeballs that (who?) dropped on by! Much appreciated!

Today I embark on a journey back to New Mexico. We’ll see what sort of trouble I can get myself into!

And oh yes, there will be good eats. Of that there is NO doubt!

A not very scientific analysis

Seeking to up the volume of traffic to this little blog of mine, I recently joined a free service that can help drive some eyeballs my direction.

The way it works is this: you have to start out by earning credits. To earn credits, you surf the blogs and websites of other members, stay there for at least thirty seconds, and then click a button to log your visit.

Once you have credits, based on how many you have, your blog gets put into the rotation. With that, your site starts to get views, with the hope you’ll find some sticky visitors.

So I’ve been doing this, idly surfing websites, while watching television or doing other internet surfing, working to earn plenty of credits.

Over the past couple days, I’ve looked at a lot of blogs. I’ve even found a few new sites I’ll keep visiting (see, the process works!).

I’ve also discovered that there is A LOT of dreck out there.

So based on two days of this surfing along, here is my not very scientific conclusion:

The majority of blogs out there on the internets are written by Malaysian teenage girls. Some boys too, but mostly girls.

Malaysian teenage girls who like to post photos taken with their phone cameras.

Photos of themselves with their boyfriends. Photos of them with their BFF’s. And usually at least one photo of their parents who always *clearly* look like they don’t want to have their picture taken.

Oh, and food. Over the past days, I’ve seen a LOT of sushi, udon noodle bowls and a preponderance of mochi.

I knew mochi was gaining popularity here in the Bay Area, I had no idea just how crazy the Malaysian people are for this confectionary treat. Especially mochi ice cream. That shows up on a lot of blogs.

Who knew? Apparently, this whole time, if I wanted more views, I just needed to post this:

Behold, original mochi (with red bean paste center)

What else can go in there?

Oooooh baby! I bought a new eeeelectrical device over the weekend and I’m becoming an OCD monster with this thing!

After reading one or another health book written by some expert and the need for more fruits and veggies in the diet and how big corporation farmed veggies are less healthy than ever and now it takes tons and tons of vegs to get the job done and we all need to be healthier and have more fruits and veggies and (breathe breathe) soooo….

I bought a juicer.

[Tim the Toolman Taylor grunt]

Oh yeah. This one right here: new toy

I shopped best prices, best brands, compared, touched, felt, took ’em apart and finally settled on one with good reviews, ease of operation, and, oh yeah, I had a coupon. That always helps.

I clutched this little beauty to my chest and put it lovingly into the Jeep. Then I went to Trader Joe’s and went nutty in the produce aisle.

Whew! All stocked up, I was rarin’ to go.

I had a little trepidation when I first fired this thing up. It says in the literature, you can drop a whole apple in there. But, you know…sometimes they *lie* in sales literature.

So imagine my delight when I fired up that 13,000 rpm (6,500 on the low end) mo-chine and it emitted a low rumbling hum.

Then I slid a smallish apple down the chute and “woooompph” that thing was pulverized and a nice glass of juice poured out the spout. Oh, and it was delicious too!

Then I started channeling both Jack Lalanne and Tim the Tooltime Taylor, all at once.

I was like “well, what else can we fit down there?” For much of Sunday afternoon, The Good Man was patient as I ground down just about anything I could possibly fit down that chute and shove through with the “food pusher”.

Remember how Tim the Toolman wanted a garbage disposer that could chew up tree limbs? I think my juicer could do it! The juice would taste, uh, pine-y, but man what fun!

I *may* have lost the focus here on this whole juicing thing, not sure. But if you are a fruit or veggie anywhere my neighborhood, be very, very afraid.

I’m just saying. Today, there is a pineapple on my counter that tomorrow, won’t be more than a pile of rubble.

Woooo!

I am:

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A love story

A journey through the soul, told in the chosen format of crappy iPhone photos.

Oh coffee. How I love you so. (Yes, I know the cup is empty. It didn’t last long. I slurped that thing through that pretty blue straw and uttered an “aaaaah” when finished.)

Yes, I love you oh so much. Sadly, you don’t love me in return. You leave my stomach acidy, my esophagus crying out for relief and my adrenals asking for a nice day off.

It is a star-crossed love affair. And a fairly one sided love.

Ice cream, oh ice cream! Rich, creamy, frosty, tasty ice cream. How I adore you as you caress my mouth with your sugary creamy goodness.

But as much as I love you, you don’t love me back the same way. You leave me phlegmy. Also, all that sugar doesn’t help my already acidy tummy.

And you always seem to take up residence on my already poochy belly and round hips.

Damn you ice cream, for being so tantalizing and so not good for me!

Cheese! My sweet longtime lover, cheese! You and I go back to the early years. Remember all the grilled cheese sandwiches we shared? Sprinkling you over enchiladas and broiling until bubbly? Remember when I’d just hack off a slice and eat you as you are, because you and I are so simpatico like that?

Truly, you aren’t terrible for me when enjoyed in moderation, but how can I possibly enjoy your delicious goodness in moderation! No, I indulge too much in my love and you join ice cream on my hips.

It’s cruel, cheese, just too cruel. I mean, after all we’ve shared!!

Ah full fat ranch. You tempting, tempting fella. You flirt with me. Wink your little bottled dressing eye and beg me to partake.

Much like cheese, a little occasionally, fine. But who can have a *little* and why occasionally?

But you mock me. You taste so yum and then you turn on me and do mean things!

It’s not right! I love you so much, why can’t you show me a little kindness?

What’s this? Oh, hey lettuce. What are you doing here? Hmm, yeah, uh, nice to see you too.

I have what can certainly be described as kind regards for you. I’m sure you’re a very nice comestible.

You just don’t…turn me on.

But you seem to *adore* me. Oh sure, you treat me so nice, giving me nutrients and not settling on my hips. Providing energy and fiber and you are such a hair parted down the middle, church on Sunday, help little old ladies across the street nice sweet gentle food.

It’s just…I don’t *want* nice!

I want wild! And passionate! And fascinating and rich complex textures!

I want to run with the bad kids and cut class and down twinkies and potato chips and stick my tongue out at “health” experts!

I want….I want…..

Hey, hey good lookin’…..what’s your name? Wanna run around with me and coffee?

Oh, wait, who is that over there? Well hellooooo handsome!

Wanna take a walk on the beach, hand in hand, and watch the sun set? Wouldn’t that be a nice way to spend some time together?

I know I’m flirting…I can’t help it!

Oh wait, what’s this?

Oh crap. That’s not playing fair…

Hellloooooo lover!