Do you know the phrase that guests and fish start to smell after three days?
As sad as it is that today is the last day of vacation and as sad as it is that most of today means airports, I am glad to go home.
I’m done with togetherness.
Yesterday we went snorkeling and at some point the better-half and I walked to the other side of the little island just so we could have a few minutes to ourselves. We like our friend, but it is time for us to separate.
So, yeah, things are good. Warm, humid and breezy weather. Snorkeling on tap this weekend.
I went out to the grocery store and I’m happy to report there are no more dead ducks on the side of the road. Perhaps, we can make it a whole week with the remainder of the flock intact. Do two ducks make a flock?
Friends are coming over tomorrow for dinner. We’re doing a seafood extravaganza. Mussels over baguette and grilled shrimp for appetizers. Then we’re making a fish chowder (cod, scallops and shrimp). There’s a beet salad in there somewhere and a dessert the better-half is in charge of because I’m doing most of the rest of the dishes (and he’s just better at it). The mussels are in the marinade right now.
These are the friends who have also purchased half of the enormous pork belly that I’m now smoking. It will be bacon later this afternoon. It’s been a comedy parade of me running from the kitchen to the smoker for the last hour.
To top it off we’re making bagels tonight (the sponge is on!) to put into their Christmas box. You may remember that several weeks ago I was wondering what to do about a gift and whether I had to go with a theme if the salsa ended up in the gift.
We decided to go with the idea of Friday Night/Saturday Morning for their gift. I infused some brandy turning it into ginger liqueur. To that side of the box, I added a jar of the salsa I canned mid-December and I bought a bag of blue corn tortilla chips. The other side of the box contains a small bottle of vodka, a bottle of V8, some of our home-grown garlic, cream cheese and the bagels. Hopefully they’ll like it.
Perhaps I have mentioned how much I like this song:
I’m the idiot in the audience who almost always yells out this request. At least I don’t yell out “Freebird”.
Roadkill reminds me of this song. And, we have some very interesting roadkill just down the way from us, but the story begins several years ago.
Someone had a black goose or duck (don’t know, don’t care and don’t really like birds except for eating). Speaking of eating, this goose-duck liked to eat on the very edge of the road. The road consists of a decent curve and a small hill that pretty well obscures your view. The bird was hit by a car. It’s carcass stayed on the road for months. The goose-duck looked a bit greasy from my perspective so perhaps it became fused with the asphalt. Gross, I know, but fascinating because it was there for a very long time.
Fast-forward to around Thanksgiving 2011. We noticed a flock of four ducks (like this) in about the same place as the long ago dead goose-duck. We both said good luck to those birds as we drove by. Around Christmas one ended up dead on the other side of the road from the original greasy dead goose-duck.
The other day I noticed a second one dead on the other side of the road. Now, who is dumber? The ducks or the owner who keeps letting his flock wander the road?
What seems like ages ago, we inherited a rocking chair from the better-half’s mother. The cover was some horrible yellow chenille with massive stains. Naturally, we put the rocker right out in plain sight because that’s the way things work around here. I don’t know that anyone other than the MIL ever sat in it. Why would you? Gross.
The Fuzzy and Anna Mae team discovered they could pull horsehair and stuffing out of the bottom of the chair. They moved to their new home. I tidied up and then our newest addition, Lucy (yes, she’s a permanent resident), found out she could pull stuffing out of the bottom of the chair.
Those cats were the last straw for the ugly cover. I finally went to the fabric store today and now the chair is recovered. I wouldn’t spend too much time staring at details–not that you would, you are the internet.
Before:
After:
As you know, I’m not much of a shopper. I just don’t like looking for anything. If I know what I need, fine, I go out and purchase it. Having to go to the fabric store is like having dental surgery. I know nothing about fabric and people who inhabit fabric stores are crafty in a completely different way than I am. Basically, they can take string and make it into something amazing. They may as well be turning iron into gold as far as I’m concerned.
There’s really no need to wonder what took me so long to recover that chair. As it turns out the two people working in the store were young, knowledgeable and didn’t look at me like I was a nube.
I have some leftover fabric…wonder what I can do with it?
Tonight we’re staying home because we don’t do large groups of drunk people. Small, intimate groups of drunk people just work better for me.
We spent some time today making chorizo sausage. In the taste test, we’ve failed again. This time it’s too salty but the pepper is perfect. So, we’re going to try again soon with a decrease in salt and a slight increase in fat. Should be perfect.
For dinner tonight, we’re having:
Smoked Blue fish dip (horseradish, cream cheese, capers)
Braised Red Cabbage
Mashed Potatoes
Wiener Schnitzel
We have a bottle of champagne chilling. The launch site for our fireworks is set up and, honestly, midnight seems a long way off right now. I’m sure a bit of that smoked fish dish and a cool, refreshing cocktail will help me pass the time.
I hope everyone has a fun and safe night tonight. I’m looking forward to 2012. 2011 has kind of sucked.
That looks like a ton of food, but the wiener schnitzel cutlets were very thin pieces of veal–the picture just makes them look big.
After dinner we cleaned up and then went in to sit by the Christmas tree. I awoke with a start and got the better-half awake. It was 11:45. I was so afraid we’d missed the stroke of midnight. We did not toast with champagne but did shoot off some fireworks and wished his mother a happy new year. I think it’s pretty neat that nearly every year I’ve known him they always talk on new year’s night. It’s been an especially good end of the year for her so she did the calling last night.
This is yet another list that you can take or leave. Isn’t it funny how we all feel like someone gives a darn about our best ofs at the end of the year?
Anyway, I spent a lot of time in the car this year and listened to a lot of music. By the way, each semester I keep track of the number of miles I travel during the semester. Granted, not all of the miles are because of school, but still…
spring semester: 9,945 miles
fall semester: 9,872 miles
In no particular order, here’s my list of songs I really liked this year. I know some of these may not be new in 2011, but that’s when I listened to them often. I also realize I might not have the most original taste. But, at least Justin Be*ber isn’t on my list.
M83:
Lana Del Rey:
My Morning Jacket:
Fitz and the Tantrums:
David Wax Museum (filmed at one of my favorite radio stations):
Mother Mother:
The Head and the Heart (can’t tell you how many times this was on repeat through VA’s mountains):
AWOLNATION:
And, probably, not the Florence and the Machine song you thought I’d pick:
Yesterday we were visiting with one of the better-half’s aunts. She’s the bestest aunt in his large circle of aunts.
A couple stopped by the aunt’s house to show off a picture that a student at the woman’s school had taken at a cemetery. The couple lives in Albany and is the daughter and son-in-law of the aunt’s best friend (she may also be distantly related but some of the familial connections confuse me and this story is already too confusing for me to try to sort that detail out).
I can say I’ve never laid eyes on these people and the better-half couldn’t remember their names 15 minutes after we left so he clearly has no attachment to them. They are older than we are and it was apparent from the second they walked in that they are a bit crunchy. Crunchy works for me (I’m wearing a pair of socks with Birkenstock right now and I make my own granola).
What doesn’t work for me are people I’ve never met leading off with a story that is clearly meant to provoke a response from me. Although it is obvious that any children they have must be at least teenagers by now, they led off with the story of home birthing and burying placentas. Yippeefuckingskippee for you.
Reason #451 that the better-half is meant for me: He followed up that “revelation” with how kids these days just don’t get the importance of burying placentas like they did back in the day.
This is Lucy:
She’s the kitten that bit the SPCA worker and had to be in quarantine for 10 days. She was released by animal control on Friday to go about her business. Her business has been winning hearts and supervising my every move.
We’ve decided to foster her until she can find her forever home. I keep telling myself that this is not her forever home, but it’s sometimes hard to keep that in mind when she’s purring and wriggling around in my lap. Lucy loves a warm lap.
She’s one of those rare cats that’s not bothered by things. The washing machine spinning furiously? Eh, so what. A roaring fire in the the fireplace? Let me sit right here on the hearth. The hugely big cats that live here? Get low when they look at you and then chase them when their backs are turned.
