Rough Draft

A Change

As you can see my blog looks very, very different today.

And gone are most of the personal parts of my blog.

I have been giving this blog a great deal of thought almost all month and one thing kept coming to mind: maybe it is time for a change.

Not just a change of format or a new pretty look.

But maybe it is time to close this blog and move on.

Which is what I have decided to do and why this blog looks the way it looks today.

I have been with TypePad for eight years and in 2005 my perception of blogging was quite different compared to today. I won't go into all the boring details that led me to this place...but I decided that this year I would venture in a different direction and perhaps put this blog, Rough Draft, to rest, hopefully in peace or wherever blogs go when they die.

I am not giving up blogging, however.

But it is time for me to end Rough Draft and start fresh and new somewhere else.

Hopefully in the next few days I will finalize the scraps of paper on my desk and decide the direction I hope to go in and when I do I will post it here in case you feel like continuing to follow me.  

The Thing About Cold Weather

It's winter people.

Which means chances are very good, quite good in fact, that it will be COLD. You know, winter like.

Every year I crack up at my Facebook friends in other, let's say warmer spots around the country, who talk endlessly about the weather.  It is either too cold for them or they are bragging because it is 80 degrees in January when the rest of the country is teetering somewhere between frozen toes and an ice rink. 

I remember last month when my mom was getting ready to fly out here mid-month and asked about the weather. I told her it is cold. And it was. Daytime highs in the twenties and evenings dropping below zero.  Of course, that was only about a week or so before we "warmed" up to the daytime highs in the thirties and evenings in the twenties or teens.  No matter, it was cold.  

She said, "I'm okay with the cold but is there snow on the ground yet?"

My response: "Why do you care?"

It isn't like she has to drive in it because she doesn't.  I told her that the subdivisions still had white streets but so what?

My heater is on upstairs and downstairs at a comfortable 65 and 68, respectively. Granted, when we were below zero or in the single digits I left those heaters running day and night. (When the evenings are just cold but in the twenties I will leave the heaters on, technically, but drop the degree to 60.)

Inside, we are toasty and fine. You would never, ever know that the temperatures outside are cold enough to give you frostbite in six minutes. I wear appropriate clothes (Jennifer will come down to breakfast freezing but wearing a short-sleeve shirt, sigh) and when we are watching TV or a movie there are plenty of blankets around. I would not say my house is similar to an icebox, although I know I tend to keep my heater on the cooler side of things. (I can't stand a very hot house or even a very warm house. I get flushed and agitated. Believe me, it ain't good.)

Sure, we have to deal with the cold weather when we go shopping and have to go between car and store but it is no different than when it is 104 outside and you are melting.

And, yes my skin is more dry and chapped during winter and requires more applications of lotion.

I guess the cold is just not that big of a deal unless I have to go on a camp-out or am stuck outside for long periods of time, which happens, well, never. I own plenty of sweatshirts, blankets, and slippers.  I make warm foods for dinner. (With dessert of ice cream but we are just weird that way.) 

I love winter. Cuddling under a blanket, warm soups, slipper socks, hot coffee, hibernating, reading, watching movies, staying inside.  Ahhhh.

Blinded (by the light)

I have this thing about closed blinds.

I hate it.

I was looking at photos on Facebook one day and noticed someone sitting in her living room watching television and the blinds were closed.

The look and feeling of closed blinds makes me shiver with yuckiness.

I have a few exceptions. 

(Of course I do.)

Summertime. Let's face it, those blinds need to shut out the 100+ degree hot summer sun as much as possible but as soon as the sun is beyond the room, they are opened.

Evenings. Especially in winter when the temps drop below freezing and then some...I close the blinds immediately after the sun sets to keep in the warm air.

Front Door Side Lights. I'm fickle with these particular blinds. I love them open but not all the time.  Sometimes, I just want privacy and since I have to walk from my office, past the front door side lights, to reach the kitchen I just like them closed or partially closed. Also, I may not always answer my door. Gasp. Look, if it is a salesman or some mormon missionary trying to convert me I don't answer the door. I also skip most little children and almost anyone else. Okay, I'm kidding. No, I'm not. Unless I am either expecting you, you are the UPS guy with a box in your hand, or you are my friend or relative odds are I won't answer the door. (So sue me, it's my house.)

I even hate when the blinds are closed in the family room because someone is either trying to watch a movie or play video games and I walk in and open them back up. And there are some windows in the house we don't even have blinds on like the living room windows (all six of them) and the kitchen. 

I like light.

I really do hate the blinds closed during the day in my "living spaces". 

The Paper Plate Debate

I guess not really a debate because it is only something I debate with myself.

I grew up with a mother who loved/loves to set tables for holidays all fancy like. She always had a very pretty and festive table.

It isn't that I don't enjoy a fancy table. I mean, whenever I did my tea parties I loved setting a really pretty table. And it certainly isn't like I don't have the stuff it takes to set a table. I own over sixty variety of plates, countless flatware, endless glass options. I have silver platters, crystal bowls, and serving plates in many different shapes, sizes, and patterns.  I own plenty of bowls, plenty of cups, plenty of cake platters, cupcake towers, and olive dishes.  Hell, I can even serve coffee for a hundred and punch for thirty.

So, the stuff I got.

But for whatever reason I battle myself every holiday I host.

While I enjoy a pretty table I love being with loved ones more. I love when people are comfortable in my home. I love having a conversation. Not that my mom didn't accomplish that ALONG with her pretty table but sometimes I feel like the focus was/is TOO MUCH on the table (and everything being just so and just perfect) and not enough on the people.

Or on the food.

And this is also not saying that my mom didn't know how to put on a spread. Believe me when I say there was NEVER anyone who wondered if my mom had enough food on the table or if anyone would go hungry.  Her food was ALWAYS GOOD and ALWAYS ENOUGH for triple the number of guests.

I would love nothing more than to have people who are very comfortable in my home and to cook and serve food for them made with love...and not care one bit about the plate it was served on or whether or not my centerpiece would win an award with Martha Stewart Living.

This past Christmas I was to host about 22 people for a sit down dinner, posing a couple small problems about exactly how to accomplish that with the space I have (my nook holds a comfortable 18, a tight squeeze at 20, and squished like pickles in a jar at 22) and the lack of chairs I own. However, the first thing that popped into my head: we are using paper plates.  I know it isn't as elegant but I was far more interested in my menu and the White Elephant game to even care about the table setting. I feel like I am going against the grain - within myself - although my mother initially indicated she hates paper plates at the holidays but was willing to succumb to this little detail (oh, thank you since it is technically my house. But, whatever). Maybe it is just laziness because the thought of all those dishes...oy.

Maybe there simply is no reason other than I don't really care whether we use paper plates and plastic forks. Do people really care if I break out the silver polish and spend an afternoon polishing the silver (don't laugh, I have done that many years) and set an elaborate table complete with napkin rings and individual pepper and salt shakers?

Just know this:  if you ever wind up at my home for whatever holiday/event/reason I will cook with love and knowing that I am feeding people that matter to me is what matters most of all...even if that means you are eating on the floor with a paper plate.

Okay, I draw the line at eating on the floor. 

Pareidolia

Have you ever heard this word before?

Before a few weeks ago I had never heard it - nor did I think a word even existed!

The dictionary defines Pareidolia as:

The imagined perception of a pattern or meaning where it does not actually exist, as in considering the moon to have human features

Okay, that's a thing? For real?

I have been seeing faces in things for years. And years.

I'm not sure when it actually started but I can tell you about 20 years ago I began to see faces in the painting/wall treatment in our bathroom in Oceanside. I see faces in the carpet. I see faces (sometimes scary clown faces) in the tile design in my shower here in this house.

For years I thought maybe I was just going crazy, already crazy, or perhaps in need of some strong medication but once I saw an actual word for this type of, um, thing, I was almost elated because there must be more freaks people out there like me who see faces in the carpet, tile patterns, and painted wall treatment.

Just How It Is

I hear a lot of people say things like, "This is just how I am, I tell it like it is." Or "I am just a nosy person." Or "I am just outgoing like that and am not afraid of confrontation." 

It wasn't until a conversation I had recently with Betsy* that I realized I have my own "This is just how I am" kind of moment.

The conversation consisted of where a mutual friend had recently moved, which was just outside Chicago.

Betsy was saying that she lived in a certain town and it was on the Iowa side, for that Betsy was CERTAIN. And I responded, "Not if they are close to Chicago."

The argument went back and forth and Betsy kept saying, "Why do you always have to disagree with me?"

Finally, I said I would look it up to prove it.

Which I did.

They live a stones throw from Wisconsin, not Iowa since they are over an hour north of Chicago.

And then Betsy said, "See, you just have to be like that, never believing me, always having to prove me wrong."

"But if I believed you, we would both be wrong."

Insert me laughing.

Anyway.

After the conversation I realized, This Is How I Am. I don't set out to prove people wrong in every conversation. No, really, I don't. But, if I am certain of something I am not the type of person to just go along for the passive ride, agreeing simply to avoid a further conversation. (Hello, that's dull.)

And not unlike the many people out there who claim they are boisterous and that is "just how they are." Or the people who "tell it like it is" because they must be openly honest at all turns. Or the people who don't shy away from a confrontation with a salesperson or waitress because speaking out is "just how they are."

For me, if I feel something isn't right I am going to speak up. Maybe not in EVERY situation because sometimes it isn't worth delving into it all but most of the time I can't help myself - it's just how I am, I guess.

What? There Are Things I Don't Like? Get Out Of Here!

The top five things in each category that I don't like.

FOODS

1. Lasagna. I want to like it, but I just can't get around the ricotta cheese and the sauce. I don't know. Ew. I'll still eat it but I won't really like it.

2. Quiche/Fritatta. Something about the egg. Underwhelmed.

3. Okra. They are slimy and gross.

4. Enchiladas. Sort of the same feeling with the lasagna. I'll eat it but it won't knock my socks off.

5. Anything I have to eat with my hands. I like to eat my pizza with a fork. I know, I know, my family rolls their eyes at me too. I also do not like chicken wings...unless they are boneless...because the chicken wing must be eaten by hand and then they take so much effort to eat those little buggers. I know this doesn't qualify as a food, per se, but apparently there isn't much I won't eat.

 

CELEBRITIES

1. The Kardashians. Isn't their time in the spotlight about up? And just when you think we have seen them all entirely too much the two younger ones are now looking like teenage tramps too. Good God, enough of these people. 

2. Miley Cyrus. I hate "child stars" (and I use the word "star" very loosely) who throw dirt on what made them famous in the first place. Mediocre talent and a girl-woman who likes to play with foam fingers and wants to make sure the world is watching at all times. We get it loud and fucking clear, you aren't Hannah.

3. Kayne West. See #1. What a pompous full-of-himself asshole. What in the world is attractive about this guy? One word: nada.

4. Robert Pattinson. The Twilight guy. Maybe I am too old but I don't see it. He has absolutely no sex appeal for me. And I still can't quite get over his interview when Twilight first came out and he answered Jay Leno, "oh, Twilight was a book?" Go away.

5. Sherri Shepard. There is never a time that woman opens her mouth on The View and I think, "yeah! I agree!". Nope. Not ever. And when she is "overly excited" and forgets that she has a microphone clipped to her chest and she...oh me gawd...screams, I want to crawl into a corner and die.

 

WORDS

1. Megga. Hello, 1980. For the love of Gawd, stop.

2. Meemaw.  Okay, I'm sorry but who - no really, WHO? would want to be called "Meemaw" instead of "grandmother" or "grandma?" Meemaw sounds like you just fell off a three wheel truck traveling on a dirt road in the middle of Tennessee and left your teeth in a wooden shack you call home. Come on, even your first name would be better than Meemaw. Gah.

3. "Do you know who I am?" I would like to slap any "celebrity" who says this anywhere in any situation. Perhaps they are unaware that we all kinda end up in the same place and I'm pretty sure their slice of heaven is not going to be gold-lined or any more colorful than what the rest of us will experience...and I'm also pretty sure their dirt hole will be exactly the same kind of dirt used in non-celebrity graves. Get. Over. Yourselves. You. Aren't. Curing. Cancer...You. Um. Act.

4. Hashtag. You're kidding, right? Stop saying hastag in front of your sentences. You are not twelve.  And even then it sounds stupid.

5. Oh My Heck. Hello, I'm mormon and can't say, hear, or read words like shit. Or fuck. Or bullshit. Or asshole. Or motherfucking asshole. You get the idea. You might as well be wearing a long dress and have bangs pulled aside with a pretty clip while you sit with your sister wives and after someone says something about how the jam you were canning turned moldy...your response: Oh my heck! You know you really want to say, "what the fuck happened?!"

A Small Glitch

I found a really great hairdresser. Not super cheap but not Southern California pricey either. Plus, she is the owner and instructs under certain labels all over the country. And, she is practically right here in my subdivision, a total win-win.

She is a bit full of herself, however.

I mean, she is good. Very, very good.

But when you have to sit through and listen to her tell how when she was teaching in Arizona one weekend she loved the first day when she could go to the pool and not be bothered because no one knew who she was yet. After the conferences/meetings (whatever) she was constantly recognized and bombarded. Oh, the horrors.

And I am a good customer. I make regular 7-week appointments. I buy my shampoo from her. I tip her twenty percent. I have referred people to her. I am never late for an appointment and I have always shown up for my scheduled appointments.

I went in one day and got my hair colored. She does this dying thing that only (hell, I don't really remember the proper term) stains the hair but doesn't use harmful chemicals. I love it. It takes half the time, no awful fumes and smelly hair, and the color is delightful. I have this procedure done maybe four times a year and it covers almost all the damn grey I hate so much.

Anyway.

I get home from my appointment and see an email from her stating that my appointment I had just made for 7 weeks in the future was cancelled because, well, the computer-generated email only said, "overbooked".

I was pissed.

I should also side-note that she has this computer system where you pay via the ipad and my receipts all go to my inbox and when it is time for a reminder about my upcoming appointment, I get an email and then I get another email reminding me again with a "I Will Be There" button to confirm your appointment.

However, this may be a slight glitch in her otherwise ideal system.

I noticed that the appointment listed another dye, eyebrow, shampoo, and cut when all I booked - or thought I booked - was a cut.

So, one day I walk into the salon and inquire about my cancellation email. The gal behind the desk said the owner (my hairdresser) is not in today and only she can access her appointment book.

Okay.

That didn't bug me so much, until...

She handed me a card with the owner/hairdressers phone number on it and said I needed to call her directly.

Oh, and how strange it was for me to get that kind of email.

I was instantly irritated with the woman behind the counter, my hairdresser, and the salon.

Is it not their job to call the owner and get it all straightened out FOR the client?

I hate the idea of calling a professional on their personal cell phone. "Hey, yeah, it's Natalie, remember me? The one of many clients you have? Oh, well, okay, anyway, I got this email..."

Give me a break.

I was pissed.

So, I figured I wouldn't make an appointment until December when I would then explain to her how annoyed I am. 

And I'm a good customer, too!

Irritated.

Anyhoo.

As the cancelled appointment date drew closer, I got an email reminding me of my appointment.

What the hell?

So, I called her (at the salon).

And I told her about this cancellation email I got.

She explained that the system is sometimes glitchy when she moves things around and she can't stop the system from sending out multiple emails at times. It was a problem, she said.

Oh.

So my appointment wasn't cancelled?

No, she says.

Oh.

Well, I have plans now on that day. (I didn't but I wanted to prove a point, as weak as it is because now I am no longer pissed.)

Oh, she says. No problem, we can reschedule.

Okay.

And FYI, I only need a haircut this go around.

I went into my appointment and all was well. She gave me a holiday goody bag and some samples of product.

And I made another appointment for 7 weeks to get another dye job.

So, the moral of the story: oh hell, I don't have a moral of the story. I'm just thankful I can get in and see her at all considering the line out the door waiting for their autographed hairbrushes...and the lack of parking by all the paparazzi. 

What A Turkey!

Back in late November I spent a hundred bucks at Winco and got a free turkey.

Because I could pick out any size I picked out a nice big ole 20-pounder. And the day after Thanksgiving I put the bad boy in the oven so I could have plenty of leftovers.

After a total of six straight days of turkey for dinner I am not going to lie - I was thankful that the turkey was out of my refrigerator and I was thrilled to be cooking anything for dinner that didn't consist of turkey.

What started out as a love affair on Thursday ended up as a snotty-nose toddler come Tuesday.

This is the breakdown of what we got out of that FREE turkey:

Meal 1. We roasted the turkey and ate it just like we ate the day before: with gravy and a couple of sides.

Meal 2. Turkey sandwiches. I brushed the slices with dijon mustard and a little mayo, then the turkey, swiss cheese, a little dollop of gravy and some cranberry relish. Then, buttered the outside of the sourdough bread and grilled it, panini style. Yummmmy. The only thing I had to buy for this meal was a packet of swiss cheese - everything else I had in my pantry (cranberries) or freezer (bread).

Meal 3. Turkey pot pie. I made it really simple. Gravy, chopped up turkey, and frozen vegetables. The recipe calls for a variety of leftover Thanksgiving vegetables (candied carrots, roasted potatoes, peas) but I didn't have any of that so I used whatever freezer vegetables I had on hand. The pie crusts I stocked up on while on sale awhile ago so I just popped one out of the freezer.

Meal 4. Creamy Mexican Turkey Soup. This was made with all things I already had on hand. Carrots, celery, onion, garlic, green chilies, milk, spices, corn. (And the stock...see meal 5 below.)

Meal 5. Although not technically a meal it was used in almost all the meals: turkey broth with the carcass. I tried something new this year and I will say that I LOVE it. I put the carcass in the crock pot! I added enough water to just about cover, a bay leaf, some salt, pepper, and onion/garlic powder and turned it on low for several hours. I actually had Larry cut the carcass in half because it was too large for even my biggest crock pot so I had two of them going... I think the broth came out even more flavorful than cooking the carcass on the stove.

Meal 6. Turkey Tetrazzini. I had never made this before although I realize a staple in the 60s. Larry says his mom made it - from the freezer section - regularly. The recipe was easy: some butter, mushrooms, garlic, broth, cream cheese, frozen peas, black olives, thin spaghetti, and a few spices. Baked in a casserole dish covered with Panko breadcrumbs. While I had the frozen vegetables, spaghetti, bread crumbs, and spices I did need to buy: mushrooms, olives, and cream cheese for this recipe.

Meal 7. The Creamy Mexican Turkey soup made so much that I immediately froze a bag. I love even small portions of soup in the freezer because they can be paired with a sandwich and makes a perfect light meal on a cold wintery day.

Meal 8. On the last day the turkey should be in the fridge I realized I still had an entire container of turkey leftover and I have this thing about freezing turkey and then thawing it only to cook it again. So, I decided to make a few freezer meals with all the remaining turkey. The first was a Creamy Turkey Taco Soup. Canned black beans, spicy diced tomatoes, salsa, bouillon, cumin, chili powder, garlic powder, and turkey. When ready to cook it sits in a crock pot for a few hours and then add sour cream and diced avocado and some flour to thicken. Serve with cornbread...yum. (Oh, and all the ingredients from the spices to the beans and tomatoes I had in my pantry.)

Meal 9. Crock-Pot Turkey and Dumplings. This was an easy one to throw together and place in the freezer. A few cups of that turkey broth, a couple of cans of cream of chicken (which I had in the pantry) and a frozen bag of peas and carrots (which I did buy). On the day it cooks I will add some cans of refrigerated buttermilk biscuits, cut up.

Meals 10-16. It is worth noting that we got about 7 lunches out of some of the meals prepared above.  When I made the sandwiches I made each of us an extra one for lunch the following day. I also sliced some of the turkey breast for another lunch after that.  The Mexican soup, while freezing a bag full, I kept some out for a couple of lunches.  The Turkey Pot Pie garnered another lunch and the Tetrazzini another two lunches.

For a handful of ingredients that totalled under ten dollars...I got about 16 meals (dinners and lunches) total out of that one giant FREE turkey. 

Pickers

You know that show, "American Pickers"? Where two guys travel the country and try and buy up people's collected crap shit junk stuff.

Okay, I get the collecting part.

You want to collect car parts. Or motorcycles. Or old signs. Or old chainsaws. Or old toys. Or license plates. Or old bikes.

That's cool.

But.

Then you take those "treasures" you had to have - and spent money on - and, um, pile them in your backyard? Or in a shed that rarely sees the light of day? Or in a garage that has a layer of dust so thick you need a shovel and an industrial size can of Pledge to remove it?

Tell me how this makes sense?

Honestly, it is the part of the show which drives me crazy because I say it every time. Why collect all this stuff and then pile it in a garage or on your lawn or in a shed? WHY?

I mean, why bother collecting in the first place?

Who sees it and who the hell can appreciate it if you can't even find the shit?

I just don't get it.

And even worse when these hoarders people refuse to let go of the shit stuff. I mean, seriously? Two men and a camera crew show up at your house and offer to give you money for this crap and you are...unsure? Are you fucking kidding me? Unsure of what? That you may someday want to look at a dusty old collection of carburetors buried underneath two old bikes, tires, toy cars, and an old motel sign? Do you think your family is going to do anything else with all that shit? You think they are going to haul a semi-truck worth of crap to their house and throw it all in their garage/shed/yard?

Um, doubtful.