Thursday, November 29, 2007

I Really Shouldn't Be Permitted Out in Public

Seriously, folks.

In the past six weeks or so I've left my make-up at the house, worn mismatched shoes... what more could I do?

Apparently, I could wear a dress with a paneled skirt, on which two of the panels, unbeknownst to me, had, erm... separated.

For about a foot.

On the back.

Extending a couple of inches above my panty line.

I'm just grateful I was wearing black underwear. Good grief.

So, effectively I've been half-mooning my entire office this morning. I'm currently at home knocking the wrinkles out of my emergency backup outfit and wondering just why they let me run around like that for an entire morning.

Then again? Not so sure I really want to know.

I'm going to start wearing a burqa or something. I swear.


Quick Update

Well, I bombed NaNo. Eh... it's all good though. This probably wasn't the best year for me to attempt it, all things considered, but how would I know unless I tried?

In other news, I am happy to report that I did NOT have to mash the potatoes for Thanksgiving. Hooray!!! Actually, the reason I didn't have to mash them wasn't so fun because from the Friday before Thanksgiving until, uhm, currently ongoing, to be frank, my wrists have been giving me fits. My left one is the one that's annoyed today. But on Thanksgiving week I was wearing braces on both hands, and squishing five pounds of potatoes through a ricer just wasn't going to happen.

I could, however, boil the damned things. So I did, and then I took the potatoes and all associated ingredients over to my parents' house, where my father took care of the ricing and mixing.

Yes, they were good. Yes, I ate WAY too much (many? eh, whatever) of them. But if you can't gorge on turkey day, what fun is it?

That's how I feel about it at any rate.

I hope everyone had an awesome Thanksgiving! And when my brain finally recovers from all the food -- yes, that can take more than a week -- I'll have more to say.

I think.

Monday, November 12, 2007

NaNo Update

Don't ask me my word count. It's embarassing.

The novel (such as it is) is incoherent.

Angel is doubtless doing much better than I am.

Oh well... it's NaNoWriMo. It doesn't matter if it's crap, it only matters that it get written.

So... I'm writing.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

As Promised...

Here's the recipe for the refrigerator mashed potatoes I mentioned in the "Whoops" entry. I've had to transcribe it because my mother sent it to me as an image embedded in a Word document.

No, I have no idea why she did that. But the good news is that as long as Blogger doesn't nuke my archives, I'll now have this recipe a bit more near at hand for all coming years' glut-fests.


Refrigerator Mashed Potatoes

To save vitamin C, boil potatoes in their skins; to save time, pressure-cook. Quickly reheated in the microwave, a portion of these spuds would be delicious for breakfast.

[Note from Amanda: Spuds??? Was the person who wrote this on CRACK??? And obviously this recipe came out way way before the Atkins diet. Anyway, upon re-reading this recipe, y'all need to be warned that I'll be making comments... because I can't help myself. They'll all be italicized and in brackets, like this.]

[Moving along, the ingredients:]

2 1/2 pounds potatoes, 7 or 8 of medium size [Me: just double the recipe; you'll be glad.]
1/2 cup sour cream
1 3 ounce package cream cheese [Me: on what planet does cream cheese come in a 3 ounce package?]
1 teaspoon onion salt [Me: garlic powder also works, and whatever else you'd like.]
1 tablespoon margarine [Me: butter.]
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Boil or pressure-cook potatoes in their skins until tender; drain. Return to the pan in which they were cooked; cover potatoes lightly with a cloth towel and let them dry over the residual heat of the extinguished burner for a few minutes. Peel; mash; add remaining ingredients; beat until light and fluffy. Cool; cover; refrigerate. may be used any time within two weeks. To serve, place in greased baking dish, dot with margarine [Me: use butter. Seriously. Margarine is EVIL.] and heat about 30 minutes in a preheated 350 degree oven or reheat in the microwave.

Yield: 4 cups. 6 servings.


I usually double the recipe, as Thanksgiving and other assorted "let's cram as much down our throats without making ourselves choke" events with my family tend to involve way more than 6 people. Well, that and if I'm going to tick off every bone in my wrist, I'd like to at least have something to show for it at the end of the day, yanno?

And I still want to know where this mysterious three-ounce pack of cream cheese is supposed to come from. Haven't found one yet.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Is Today Monday?

Because I swear it's acting like one.

I do not leave my house without makeup. For me to even go in public without makeup takes an event so mind-bendingly earth-shattering that it would have to rival the '89 San Francisco earthquake in intensity and scope of impact.

THAT is how serious I am about my "spackle."


I've previously confessed that I'm one of those women you'll see at the traffic lights desperately applying her makeup while the light is red. Well, you see, in order for me to accomplish this there has to be one vital component in play.

I have to remember the freaking makeup bag.

Which I somehow didn't manage to do this morning.

Fortunately I did the base/powder/lipstick thing before I left the house this morning (you can hide a multitude of sins with a pair of sunglasses), but I had NO eyeshadow, NO eyeliner, NO mascara, NO blush...


I looked half dead.

Fortunately, I had my emergency backup mascara in my desk.

I still look half dead, but at least I have eyes.


Happy Friday, folks!

Thursday, November 08, 2007

A Note on Comments

Okay, I've not had to do this previously, but let me say this: If you're going to critique a blog post of mine or insult me (in either a veiled or straightforward fashion), please at least have the guts to post under your name rather than hiding behind "anonymous."

Folks, I don't care if you like me or you don't, if you agree with me or not, but if you're going to comment here, leave a name. I don't mind leaving on the "anonymous" option for those of you who don't want to bother with a blogger account, but for crying out loud, just sign your comments at least. And if you don't want to sign it, you might want to consider if the comment is worth leaving in the first place.

Just sayin'.


The weather down here in Florida has become downright chilly.

Well, if by "downright chilly" you consider upper-forties to be cold. Which, as a nearly-lifelong Florida native? I do.

I'm down to having only jeans to wear as slacks (more shopping... urrrgh), so I'm stuck with skirts for work on Monday through Thursday. In order to avoid freezing my ankles to death this morning, I actually performed the greatest fashion atrocity known to man:

I wore socks and my closed-toed Birkenstocks with my skirt.

I don't think even the cuteness I have planned for tomorrow is going to make up for this.


Sorry gang, it's been a madhouse around here. It's nearing the end of the year at the office, which means that the bookkeeping is getting atrocious (and my adding machine is about to be kicked against the wall repeatedly), tensions are running high, and in the middle of all this I'm supposed to be panicking about Christmas shopping as well as what in the world I'm supposed to take to my mother's house for Thanksgiving.


I'm fairly certain my Thanksgiving contribution will be mashed potatoes. Again. Because nobody else is fool enough to volunteer for that job, as these aren't just any mashed potatoes, but a certain kind known as "refrigerator mashed potatoes" which are so-named not because they're served cold (they're not -- they're heated) but because they can be stored in the fridge for a number of days prior to the actual event for which they've been prepared.

I think it's something to do with the cream cheese, sour cream, and butter in them, but I wouldn't put money on it. Five pounds of potatoes to boil then smash into an unrecognizable pulp with the potato ricer prior to mixing in all the other goodies. Oish. It's a wonder I can lift my arms the next day, but they're good. Worth it.

I'll post the recipe sometime. It's around... uhm... somewhere. I'm quite sure of it.

(Note to self: call Mom and get the recipe AGAIN... just like every other year)


In other news, the Chantix and I have reached an uneasy truce wherein I eat before taking it so it doesn't make me want to throw up, and in return it sucks all the joy out of smoking for me.

Yes, kids, I'm nicotine-free. Grudgingly, and with much whining, but I'm there.

Why quit when I'm whiny about it? Well, to be quite honest, I never will NOT be whiny about giving up my vices. I'll do it, but I will bitch and moan, dammit.

I love my Diet Coke and y'all should have heard me when I was pregnant with the boys. My midwife with the younger child especially was concerned about all the chemicals in Diet Coke. She'd have preferred I drink an entire pot of coffee twice a day than suck down even one of my wonderful, refreshing, chemically-altered-beyond-all-recognition carbonated beverages.

Problem is, a sure sign of gestation for me is that I develop an incredible loathing for coffee. The smell of it in bean form, ground form, or brewing is still fine (stuff's like potpourri for me, seriously). But the taste of it? Oh man, just kill me now. Simply Does. Not. Work. Not when I'm pregnant, anyway.

Needless to say, for a few months there? Amanda equaled Whiny.

And now that I'm done reproducing they will have to pry my Diet Coke out of my cold, dead fingers before I give it up. I don't require much in life, but I would like to hang on to at least one little vice. Just one.

But anyway, why quit smoking? Because I'm kind of fond of this whole living thing, and smoking has a bad habit of shortening that experience. Also, it interferes with my breathing hobby. And it's a craptastic example for the kids (well, that and they've been lecturing me about it mercilessly).

The yellow stains have almost faded completely from my fingers. Awesome.


So anyway, that's what I've been up to for the past almost-two-weeks. That and doing the Halloween stuff with the boys. The elder was Anakin Skywalker and the younger was a knight. He looked alot like a gladiator, but believe me, that child was a KNIGHT.

Just ask him.