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Displaying 1 - 10 of 27 entries.

One of many issues

  • Posted on December 12, 2011 at 10:00 am

So I have this problem. I can’t seem to be able to throw papers away. Or throw…STUFF… away, really. It piles and piles and then I move the piles around and SAY I’m going to file it where it belongs…

You know the drill. Move the piles again. Until something important gets lost and I have to go through the piles to find it. And the piles, they are prodigious. Bills. Statements. Bills.

I burned out the motor on the shredder.

I cannot throw these documents in the trash. They have shred-worthy data on them. And I take the shreds and put them in the compost pile and then my next year’s garden will be nourished by a healthy helping of paranoia.

Except for the small problem of the shredder not working.

These things don’t need to be filed; I don’t keep records like I used to. I check my bank account daily, sometimes several times a day online. I’ve gone paperless everywhere I can, pay bills through the bank’s webpage and still the piles grow.

The icing on the cake? Oh, that comes in the form of the Stuff Mama left here for me to handle. Piles upon piles of paperwork with sensitive data on it. Tax returns from 1995 to 2007. Checking statements with cancelled checks. Book after book after book after book of check duplicates.

And then finally, the solution hit me.

Two birds, one stone

  • Posted on October 17, 2011 at 8:00 am

So waaaay back in February, I bought the house from my Mama.

Toward the first of the month, I read a post on Lifehacker ( Remove Rust from Cast Iron Cookware in your Oven ) and realized I hadn’t run the oven cleaning cycle since the paperwork was signed.

After reading that post, I realized that I could do both – clean the oven AND clean my beloved skillet.

But. I forgot about The Smoke.

You know that fog that hits you when the oven cleaning cycle runs, yeah? The odiferous cacaphony of burned cheese, casserole eruptions, and the occasional pie overflow…

That didn’t happen here.

What DID happen is the kitchen filled with smoke. The house filled with smoke. Evidently there was about two cups of oil rubbed into that skillet, and the smell and the smoke of burning oil rapidly filled the house. I missed a magnificent photo op: there was so much buildup on the skillet that it flamed up. I stared fascinated as the flames danced and went out.

I opened windows, turned on all the fans, and cussed. And cussed some more. The entire POINT of waiting so late in the day was so the residual heat would help warm things up. (the good news is that everything stopped smoking after about an hour, leaving two more hours of heating to happen.)

What it looked like after the cycle was done:

Now I get to reseason it and make a batch of pancakes. WHEE!

As if I didn’t have enough to do

  • Posted on April 5, 2011 at 8:00 am

I bought the house from Mama.

No, I haven’t completely lost my mind. (Although sometimes I do wonder.)

How many chances do you get to buy a home from the original owner when you KNOW what the issues are?

So far I’ve alternated between putting out fires and trying to make upgrades. For example: I bought spackle, primer and a gallon of paint for my room…and then a pipe split. So now I also get to add “replace crawlspace insulation and rodent barrier” to the list.

As you can imagine, the list is getting hard to manage.

The good news is that the roof and furnace are +/-8 years old, as is the laminate flooring.

That means now I get to (not) blog about fixing the house along with the gardening and the cooking that I’m getting ready to start doing.

Rebooting

  • Posted on January 20, 2011 at 11:57 pm

Life y’all. Sometimes you live it.

Sometimes you fasten your seatbelt and pray.

I’m very conscious of the fact that some folks can actually feel the stress/emotion in a post (because I’m one of those people, yo) and I didn’t want to drop a stress bomb on y’all.

It became impossible to write. You know about my water main bursting on August 26th (which? was totally the first day of class. And no, I didn’t go to school that day.)

And I posted a picture of my foot in a brace a few weeks later, without the corresponding story. I stepped wrong (at work), my ankle popped, and I got to wear that lovely accessory for a few weeks.

The things I didn’t talk about are really not mine to discuss in detail, but they generally made my head explodey.

Cataract surgery.
An injured knee that required bracing, anti-inflammatories, an MRI, and finally surgery.
A car accident.
And the most important thing of all:

My Saint of a Mama moved out. She married a lovely LOVELY man, and is happier than I’ve seen her in a while.

I had a small bit of a breather, then I turned around and hosted Thanksgiving Dinner at my house.

Yeah.

So please excuse my absence. Let’s talk about some Stuff, mkay?

Plumbing problem

  • Posted on August 26, 2010 at 9:02 am

The problem presented itself as an odd moment. I heard the dog drinking and knew that there’s not SUPPOSED to be water where she was. 1 However…it did not immediately click that I should go up the hill and check on it. I assumed she’d found one of Mama’s many plant pots full of water and went on with the art of weedeater wielding.

Much later that evening, I realized I’d never gone up the hill to check it out. No better time than before the sun drops, so off I went.

The dog was drinking out of a foot-deep freshwater manmade spring.

Say whuuuuut??!!??

Yeah, you read that right. Foot-deep. Freshwater. Manmade. Spring.

Heavy, heavy sigh. Scoop the water out of the hole and see what we’re dealing with.

image

Joy of joys. A pregnant pipe splice. Let’s clear the gunk away, shallwe? After rinsing the mud off and cutting through

image

this much tape, we’re left with this:

image

Which, honestly? was a relief to find. The pipe had truly burst – it wasn’t one of Daddy’s Engineering Projects. After draining the rest of the water out of the hole, the repair looked to be a simple one – 3/4″ coupling, a few feet of pipe, new 3/4″ x 1″ coupling, teflon tape and a screwdriver (to tighten the clamps down with).

Simple on paper. In reality, the couplings didn’t want to seat, I couldn’t get the pipe clamps tight enough and I asked Mama more than once to just call a plumber and let me move on with my life. I did everything right, I know I did…but the water kept spewing out.

There were four separate trips to Lowe’s AND Farmer’s Hardware stores. Lowe’s had the pipe and Farmer’s had the couplings.

I built the thing from the top down first – 3/4 inline coupler to pipe to 3/4 x 1″ adapter. It leaked.

I pulled it apart and cut another section of pipe. Rewrapped the coupler in an OBSCENE amount of teflon tape and built it again.

Still leaking.

I built the thing from the bottom up – 3/4 coupler to pipe to 1″ x 34″ adapter.

Yup, you guessed it. More leaking.

It was Mama’s (Don’t call him Boyfriend, that word is too juvenile) who called attention to The Daily Duuuuuh:

Although the pipe clamps have a slot for a screwdriver, they also work REALLY well with a socket wrench.

  1. by the rope swing on top of the bank []

Requiem for a sofa

  • Posted on July 1, 2010 at 1:00 am

It was ugly. Not butt-ugly, but…didn’t go with anything else ugly. A dual-reclining heavy monstrosity that was a pain in the behind to clean under. Blue, with peach plaid striping and a pineapple in each square.

The sofa was in the livingroom when I moved back home from Little Rock. Like everything else that has happened in my life, that monstrosity was waiting for me. The armrests were the perfect height for me to rest my pregnancy-swollen ankles on and still keep an eye on Daniel. The dual recliner not only meant that I could change positions, but that Alannah could have a sleepover and they could watch TV and still have a place to stretch out and sleep.

The ugly meant that my heart was not shattered when something inevitably got spilled on it. I blotted the spots dry and every few months I would wield the upholstery attachment on the carpet cleaner, rendering it fresh-smelling and relatively un-stained (though nothing would ever completely remove the stain of my entire cup of coffee splashed across one cushion).

Me sitting on the blue sofa

This is one of the first pictures I ever let Daniel take with *my* camera. That was (is) my favorite position for reading – curled up against the armrest.

Daniel's favorite sick spot

When he was sick, Daniel liked to sit “in my spot”. (Yes, french toaststicks do make it all better, why do you ask?)

(Yes, the sofa was blue. No, I didn’t realize the difference in color tone in the pictures until after I’d started writing. Yes, I’m lazy enough to leave it. Daniel’s pic was taken with a phone cam, we’ll leave it at that.)

Alas, Mama did not love the Blue Monstrosity. It was too big, too heavy, too ughLEE, and didn’t match. (For the record, I agree with ALL of those points.) She declared that it should be relegated to storage and the “new” sofa installed.

I objected, highly. Yes, the sofa is big and heavy and doesn’t match. And my heart doesn’t break when something gets spilled. Yes, it may be YOUR house, but you NEVER spend time in the livingroom and WE DO.

I lost the argument, natch.

Daddy hauled it off one day and replaced it with a nightmare. He told me the Blue Monstrosity was safe, but wouldn’t tell me where it was. He hauled it off before I could clean it and wrap it in plastic, sealed with a kiss. (Smart man. He knew I’d try to bring it back.)

And then the accident happened, and our world was made of upsidasium for a while. We cleaned out The Big House – no sofa. We cleaned out the barn – no sofa. We cleaned out The Little House – no sofa. Finally, we made it to the garage at The Little House. There, standing on end was the Blue Monstrosity.


My heart lept for joy….until I touched the fabric. It has been out there for two years. Yes, it’s been dry…but remember, that sofa needed to be cleaned. I made calls – everyone wants to reupholster it until they find out it’s a double-recliner. Then the price doubles.

Yes, I already have replaced The Nightmare with something more family-friendly. No, I really didn’t have room for the Blue Monstrosity. That’s not the point.

Vaya con Dios, my friend. You were so comfortable, and I miss you.

My take on New Year’s Dinner

  • Posted on January 2, 2010 at 3:11 pm

I cooked y’all (don’t have a heart attack!). Mama said she wasn’t going to, and I decided that I NEEEEED the traditional southern New Year’s dinner. Since I can’t make myself be “traditional”, I turned it into soup. Collards for folding money, blackeyed peas for coins, pork for luck, and I decided that in this recipe, the carrots would symbolize gold. I served it with cornbread sticks and doesn’t it all look yummy?

Featured but not pictured is the how-to for the cornbread sticks. (Or maybe I was just ashamed of my box-mix cornbread. I don’t really like the box mix but going back to the store? Was.not.happenin.)

Also: this was my first time shooting with my daughter’s camera since mine is broken. Take that for what it’s worth…


This is what it all looked like to start with. That’s a 16 oz box of reduced-sodium broth, a medium onion, one bunch of collards, a can of black-eyed peas, a carrot, and thick sliced bacon.

Oh my darling bacon, how I love you and the flavor you add. I used four slices, chopped.

Yes, jarred garlic is in the picture. No, you really don’t need it. I used it, but couldn’t taste it at all in the finished product so we’ll just pretend like it’s not there. Okay? The soup really doesn’t need it.

Not pictured: apple cider vinegar. I stirred a tablespoon into the soup and it tasted fine to me but Mama added a tablespoon to her bowl (without tasting it first). Your mileage may vary.


The first thing I did was to slice the carrot thinly. I also didn’t use the entire carrot. See that 3″ chunk in the corner? Joe snagged it while I was trying (and failing) to get a picture of the knife in my hand while cutting the carrot.

After I sliced the carrot, I tossed it in a pot with the broth and brought it up to a simmer. The carrot needs to cook a little longer than the rest of the veggies in my world.


Since the dutch oven is missing in action, the biggest cast iron pan we own was called into action. This was not necessarily a fantastic idea as the day went on.

There is no way to fix this small problem, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the pan OTHER than the handle. Guess how many times I grabbed for that?

Hello, gorgeous. Flavor is what I’m looking for and you’ve got plenty of it. Know what else I’m looking for?

Bacon grease.

Take four slices of thick-cut bacon, rough cut into chunks, and cook until crispy. Kinda like this:

You don’t want the bacon to be hard since we’re going to be adding it back into the soup and who likes hard bits of bacon in their soup??!!??

While the bacon is cooking, dice up your onion. We’re looking for flavor AND bits floating around in the soup so feel free to rough-chop it if that thrills your soul. I did a half dice and half slice. After you’ve pulled the baconbits out of the pan, toss the onion in and cook til they’re translucent and soft.

While the onions are cooking, run your knife down the spine of the collards to remove that tough stem. Like this:

(Pretend like you like that picture and then) Once the leaves are stem-free, chop ‘em down to bite-sized pieces. Yes, they’ll tenderize once they cook, but I’ve never liked long stringy greens that get stuck in my teeth. Cut ‘em into strips like this

and then run your knife through the other way to chunk ‘em.

Wait. Did you wash the collards? Wash ‘em before you chop ‘em, y’all. There’s no telling WHAT is coming home from the garden or store on those greens.

When you toss those greens in the pan, marvel at the pretty green against the translucent onion and black pan.

Isn’t that GORGEOUS?

Good lawd it’s making me hungry again and I just ate.

Stir the greens around to coat with the bacon grease and onions, then pour in the carrots and broth you’ve been simmering all this time.

Oh it just gets more and more pretty. I did end up adding a cup of water here though, because there just wasn’t enough broth to suit me. At this point, the greens need to simmer for about 20 minutes, so put the lid on and go make some cornbread.

If you REALLY want to thrill your soul, you could cook another two pieces of bacon in your other cast-iron frying pan and stir the resulting baconbits into the batter. I wish I had!

Now we’ve got the soup simmering, the cornbread (box mix) is baking – we need to attend to those bacon bits and the blackeyed peas (in a can).

I ran my knife through the bacon bits to make sure they were BITS and not CHUNKS.

That’s what about 2 1/2 – 3 slices of cooked bacon looks like getting chopped. I ate the other bits while doing the rest of the recipe.

Oh come ON like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing. At least I didn’t cook up the entire pound of bacon and eat it!

Open the can of black eyed peas, drain out the canning water and give ‘em a good rinse. Then mash up half to help thicken the soup a bit.

Once the cornbread is done, pull it out of the oven. While it’s cooling, take the lid off and add the bacon bits, mashed and whole black eyed peas.

Marvel at how pretty it looks, and at how hungry you are now.

Give it a stir, taste and adjust your salt and pepper to taste. (And in my case, make sure the collards were done – this is the first time I’ve cooked collards.)

Now if y’all will excuse me…

I get to pack one now, but I hated it then.

  • Posted on December 14, 2009 at 1:06 pm
This entry is part 1 of 3 in the series Write of Passage

It was yellow. Shaped like a school bus. Snoopy decorated the top panel. Mama bought a blue one for my brother, and a yellow one for me.

It was last year’s lunchbox and Mama wouldn’t buy me a new one for the new year. “There’s NOTHING wrong with it!!!”

Except there is. It’s last year’s lunchbox. I’m going to be the only kid in my class with this lame-assed lunchbox. Everyone else is going to have a metal lunchbox with The Bionic Woman or Wonder Woman or Star Wars.

I don’t like yellow. I don’t like Peanuts enough to have a lunchbox with them on it anymore.

She says nobody notices stuff like that. Mama has no clue.

I tried to break it. Peeled the characters off the front so at least it’ll be PLAIN yellow instead of Peanuts Characters. I stomped on the handle until it cracked enough for me to say “Look Mama! It’s broken and it’ll pinch my hand!” Think I got a new lunchbox?

Newp. Daddy took the plastic handle out and knotted some nylon rope into place.

I packed my own lunch. There for a long time I made Lipton’s Cream of Chicken instant soup (with hot water from the tap) and two slices of bread for soppin.

I tried the soup as an adult. I’m not sure what was worse – the pseudo-chicken flavor, the salt (oh my dear lawd the salt) or the rancid breath.

I’d like to take the time right now to apologize to my former classmates if I got all up in yo’ grill with that breath.

I quickly learned that if you stir the jelly into the peanut butter, they both spread more easily. But I didn’t like sandwiches all that much. Most of the time I bought my lunch. Pizza and french fries with milk.

And now you know where The Crazy started.

The cafeteria reeked of steamy hot dirty dishwater and food. I remember being overwhelmed by the noise of three billion kids crammed into one room to eat.

In high school, Amy (a classmate) remembered that lunch box and asked me about it. I lied and denied. She had one just like it, and it made her feel better that “one of the big kids” had a lunchbox like hers. As an adult, I can appreciate the sentiment. As a high-schooler, my soul flamed anew with the reminder.

~~~~~~~~~

This is Challenge #2: Lunch Box

Flooring, Floored

  • Posted on August 6, 2009 at 12:41 pm
This entry is part 1 of 3 in the series I'm the man of the house.

This post is dedicated to those of you who don’t follow me on twitter. You’re missing…a lot.

It was, it is, it has been time to rip the carpets out of this house for longer than I care to admit. There will be no “before” pictures because I have to handle the carpet with gloves and I can’t have y’all calling Teh Gov’ment and tellin’ on me.

(Paranoid, remember?)

My Sainted Mama’s paperwork says this house is circa 1995-96 (different numbers in different places) and it’s the original carpet. While I fully acknowledge that it’s age and quality have a lot to do with its present condition, I still get grossed out.

Like, rip it up and go take a shower grossed out.

I started her room on July 22nd and finished it on Aug 1st. While continuing to work my usual 40ish hour job.

(Where are my pompom-carrying cheerleaders??!!??)

However, I did a picture of the ONE spot in the floor not covered by the “I’ve got my ROOM BACK!!!!” explosion of teen crap.

the laminate flooring in my daughter's room

The white strip of molding is as she wanted it (though I have no idea why)(I suspect laziness though. That or paralyzing indecision. I just *may* have passed on the inability to decide to paint the molding the wall color or the trim color to my daughter.) Optical illusion alert: the molding is sitting on top of the flooring, not another strip of molding. (could I possibly use the word “molding” in a paragraph more?)

And now I’m off to start round 2 – the boys room. (Which may or may not stay the boyS room – they’re keeping each other awake talking)

Fresh From Twitter

  • Posted on August 5, 2009 at 11:42 pm

The backup laptop has a pentium III processor and a whopping 192 mb of ram. whywhyWHY did I keep it?
It never fails – fill the bowl with bleach and everybody has to go potty RIGHTNOW.
Flooring, round 2 coming up.
Dear Teen Driver: I don’t care how loud the bass is thumpin. Yer still drivin ya mama’s minivan.
Round 2 of laptop maintenance. This time for a BADLY needed ram upgrade.
I feel naked without my phone. So I spent money I don’t have on stuff I don’t need to compensate.
If you MUST use your webcam to take a photo, turn your screen brightness down after you compose. BLUE GLARE BAD!!!
Molding’s done. (did you REALLY think I’d leave it THIS close to done??!!??) Only one thing left to do – shower and relaaaaax. For about …
Just smashed my finger. An entire week of hammering on that floor and on the LAST day I smash it.
Lol. Forgot about re-placing the molding. Tempted to leave it.
Done.
On the home stretch – now I hafta rip the boards down to 4″ wide.
I just shattered the tapping block. RAWR!
Finishing the flooring. Didn’t need to remove the now totally stripped screws after all.
Yes, times HAVE changed. But wearing a headful of curlers to the store is still a huge fashion don’t.