2013 Quick Annual Pumpkin Carving Smackdown

2013 Quick Annual Pumpkin Carving Smackdown, a set on Flickr.

Testing

For Real This Time - New Address for Cooking Blog

Eating with My Mouth Open

24/7 Volunteer in Service to America - for a Year

I've been pretty busy lately. Last week I went to Albuquerque to train for my Americorps Vista position with the Colorado Division of Wildlife. The problem when you haven't posted anything in awhile is that you have too much to write, and in my case, no energy to write it. So I'll summarize it in poorly organized bullet points.

• Albuquerque was hot, but we were in the Hilton. I did not have to share my room so I felt very spoiled. People who liked onions probably thought the food was very good. I am not one of those people.
• Training was pretty interesting - mostly interactive discussion. Not nearly as painful as when I trained for the Census.
• Corin (the white cat) has been throwing up for months now and he has lost 4 pounds in the past 2 years. He had to have surgery my last day in Albuquerque. Apparently he consumed 13 hair ties and a very large necklace (probably the equivalent of 4 more hair ties). Now hopefully he will gain weight. Apparently he has been hiding his addiction for a long time. Gas Monkey says he only gets this one chance. So next time (and there better not be a next time) I'm going to take my friend's advice, give him a whole bowl of hair ties and tell him to enjoy his last meal.
• I started my job at the Colorado Division of Wildlife. I have a very friendly supervisor and work in a friendly office. The only drawback is the CDOW is a government agency - i.e. they don't even provide the water cooler's in the office. And you always have to watch out for other people's toes, because it is a very political agency. Yay for bureaucracy!
• My official title is "Wildlife Outreach Coordinator". My purpose is to develop and strengthen programs to encourage participation from impoverished or alienated groups (in particular Spanish-speakers and impoverished children).
  
• I am in charge of a few projects. First, to oversee the translation of the CDOW website into Spanish. Second, to strengthen volunteer recruitment programs to increase public participation. Third, to evaluate "Growing up WILD," a curriculum used to education young children about the environment and wildlife. Currently I am going through various curriculum focusing on wildlife issues and critical thinking, going through each activity and then deciding whether they satisfy any of the new requirements for Colorado public school systems. But mostly I'm spending the next week reading.
  
• I rode my bike to and from work once so far. A total of 10 miles round-trip. Very doable but I hate coming back home - it's all uphill.

That's it. It is pretty boring really.

Gas Monkey's Bionic Hip

It has been six weeks since Gas Monkey's surgery. Today we went to the doctor's for some post-surgery x-rays. They looked great. It's amazing with all of the unnecessary risks he's been taking, he is still fine. The doctor said he can walk without crutches now (although he should start off slow, putting 25% of his weight on his leg this week, 50% next week, etc). Best of all, all of his movement restrictions have been lifted. Now he can drive, dress himself, get in and out of the shower, and help me water the garden. My life is about to get much easier. He's also excited to be more independent. We are both happy campers.

My New Baby

You can't really tell, but it is just the cutest, tiniest little zucchini squash ever. Maybe 2-3 inches long. I think it is a girl and I'm naming it India, after a shade of green I saw on a Wikipedia page. And some people wonder why I cried after the hail storm. My garden is my baby and each plant is a little character of it's own. I hope India grows to be a large, luscious lady (BAM! - look at that alliteration, or consonance if you want to get technical). Then I will decapitate her, shred her to pieces, make zucchini bread and share her with you.

As you can see my garden has fully recovered, thanks to a lot of tender loving care, gentle petting, and daily pep talks. Now if only I could kill weeds with neglect.

An Alternative Use for a Box Spring . . .a Cat Bed!

I particularly like her legs hanging off the sides.

Before Gas Monkey's surgery, our bed frame kept damaging our floor so we threw it away. At the time we were not in any particular hurry to buy another frame, so the bed stayed where it landed, on the floor. However, after Gas Monkey's surgery B bought us a new bed frame so he could get in and out of bed. The only problem was now the bed was too high. So for the time being the box spring is sitting upright against the wall in my room. And both cats love it. Unfortunately. But hey, if I was a cat I'd sleep up there all the time too.

Could a cat be any happier?

Montana and Wyoming

Last weekend Gas Monkey and I went to his cousin's wedding in Montana. We spent a little less than a day with his dad and grandma. Not much else to say about Wyoming. Nothing really happens there.

The view from Gas Monkey's dad's porch. I could wake up to that everyday.

The day after we arrived in Cody we needed to get to Red Lodge, MT. I was responsible for driving the whole time and I decided we should drive through the Beartooths. The Beartooths are a beautiful mountain range in between Cody and Red Lodge. We don't usually drive through it because it takes more time, but I was getting a little sick of the sagebrush covered rolling hills. Here's a few pictures from our drive.



At the FMIL's (future mother in law) house the craziness was already beginning. My FMIL was hosting a large dinner party and by the end of the evening probably 50 people had showed up. Luckily Gas Monkey and I got to spend the night at his mom's neighbor's house (a 1.5 million dollar mansion, built by a lawyer from back East who is almost never there). At least we got some privacy and could go to bed relatively early (relatively compared to Gas Monkey's cousins. We still went to bed at midnight.) The day after that was the rehearsal dinner in Bearcreek, a tiny town just outside of Red Lodge. The dinner involved a deliciously bloodied steak and pig races afterwards. I couldn't get any pictures of the pig races because my camera died just after I took a picture of the track. Gas Monkey's pig came in second, so no big winners.

Saturday, the 10th, was the wedding. It was really pretty on a nice little ranch turned chapel area. Since we drained the open bar, then went down town and closed the bars, understandably it is taking me a few days to recover. It was terrible to have to drive all the way home the next day. Sunday we left at 3 p.m. and got home at 12:30 a.m. It was pretty miserable for me the whole time. I think Gas Monkey's grandma didn't understand why he had to stay awake with me the whole time since he wasn't driving. Too bad, I really needed him to keep me awake. I have enjoyed going up to Montana more and more, but I am glad to be back home. I fly to Albuquerque next week for my Americorps training.

New Cooking Blog

I know what you are thinking. Just how many blogs is this chica going to have? And also, why does she think anybody cares about her life? Well, I don't know how many blogs I'm going to have, and I don't know how often I will post, and I know nobody really cares, but I'm bored, and it keeps me motivated. Plus it is easier than writing this stuff by hand, so it is a record for me to look back on in times of reflection.

This time I have started a cooking blog. I'm trying to cook from home, and this will be a good place for me to record which meals I have made, and which were successes and failure, so I'll remember in the future.

http://sloppycook.blogspot.com

Who knows, maybe you'll actually want to try one of my recipes, or you'll find a new dinner idea.

Also, this link will be in the side on this blog, where it says "Other Places I
Express Myself."

Would You Wear These?

Ok, I know what you are thinking. When they are laid out like this they don't look so bad. Maybe I should emphasize a few aspects of these sweaters (which belong to Gas Monkey). Let's start with the grey one. No 30 year old man should be wearing a too tight turtleneck sweater with deep ribbing. Now the one on the right. The faded pattern itself is not offensive, if you can overlook the stain in the middle of the chest, and the fact that it is way too short for Gas Monkey. These are only samples from Gas Monkey's closet.

Every year we go through Gas Monkey's closet (he has at least three times as many clothes as myself). Today I was doing laundry, and I came across these two sweaters while storing his winter clothes. The thought that crossed my mind, "how did these get through probably three or four elimination rounds?" They are each 10 years old at least. I asked Gas Monkey this. He claims one was given to him by an ex-girlfriend and he picked up another girl in the other. Once again, I asked myself how these two made it through four elimination rounds. So I came up with a creative solution (unfortunately I cannot implement this solution until winter, so somebody please remind me).

Next winter we will go through another elimination round. This usually happens in the winter because he has tons of winter clothes since his birthday is days before Christmas. Here is the deal. We will sort Gas Monkey's clothes into keep, give-away, and trial. The trial pile will be clothes that Gas Monkey wants, but I see no reason for him to keep. Each day he has to wear a shirt/sweater from the trial pile. If he does not want to go out in public in one of these trial shirts, then it goes in the give-away (or throw away) pile. If he successfully models these trial shirts for an entire day, work days included, he can keep them. If not, goodbye. The only flaw with my genius plan is sometimes Gas Monkey wears the ugliest shirts all the time. Regarding these two "womanizing sweaters" we may have to make a special exception. Gas Monkey will have to wear them into a bar and if a woman, any woman, buys him a drink, then he can keep them. I'm extremely confident he will be successful.

P.S. Gas Monkey loves that all of my posts are about him. It demonstrates my everlasting devotion and love.

One Way to Work off a Beer Belly

Hopefully he did not break any of his hip precautions. Too bad he did not finish the yard.

Why so Sad Scout?

Probably because cats rule and dogs drool. Rejected by Carson!

See a Resemblance?

Can you see the similarities? Carson looks like a retarded cat. We had her shaved last Saturday. When she came home, Corin kept harassing her. He followed her everywhere, and kept trying to bat her and her tail. She was not having it.

Census Work

So I started working for the Census Bureau yesterday. Training is very painful; sitting around listening to the crew leader and assistants read the documents to us, and going through the same exercises over and over and over. The information has definitely been beaten into me. I thought I was prepared to sit on my ass for six hours, but apparently not. My tailbone feels like somebody has slowly been sawing through it. Seriously, all my training as a couch potato has not paid off. At least I am making $16.75 an hour. Pretty decent. The job only lasts up until July 5th, not very long. And they could always release me earlier depending on how efficient I am (i.e. if there is no more work to be done, they won't need me anymore). Hopefully I can get out into the field soon, because this training stuff is driving me nuts!!!! Not to mention the early to bed early to rise bullshit.

Hash Browns, Why do You Allude Me?

First of all, I am no chef. I prefer the modest title "cook." I can't create, but I can follow directions. I'm sure I am not alone here. For the most part, I can follow directions pretty well. Sure, it takes practice to make a spankin' good pizza crust, or any bread for that matter. But even if I'm not 100% successful, it is edible. I have finally met my foe . . . hash browns.

Hash browns? Really? Isn't that easy? You may be asking yourself in your head. My response, you'd think. When I was growing up, hash browns used to be my favorite food. I was lucky to have a dad who would get up early to make them for us from scratch. Of course being a bored, self-consumed child/teenager, I never bothered to get the proper instruction from my dad. I am ruing the day when I eagerly consumed the hash browns, and moved on in my life.

Lately I have been craving these (and no, there is no bun in the oven, I'm just bored and therefore hungry). I try to make hash browns at least twice a week, excluding the weekend when Gas Monkey gives it a try (and yes my jawline has been getting soft as a result). I've done a lot of research and have been testing all these methods. So far no success.

The first problem. No matter how much I prepare my beautiful new stainless steel pans, the hash browns stick. This is annoying since they need to be fried and crispy. When I use my pans, the crispy part sticks to the pan, and all I'm left with is the non-crispy parts. Yuck. Out of curiosity, I have used my George Foreman Grill. So far my success rate with that is 50-50.

The next problem, to precook the potatoes or not. Well, when I don't cook the potatoes, I end up with a grey slimy mess. Even if it is slightly edible, it is not appetizing. It looks like cooked worms. And it is not crispy.

Alright, so let's boil the potatoes first. This is annoying. Being the late-sleeper that I am, by the time I have boiled the potatoes and try to cook the hash browns, it is noon. Not that I am adverse to eating hash browns at any time of the day. However, when I try to cook the hash browns from boiled potatoes, they become mush. Who wants to eat fried mashed potatoes?

At this point I'm sure you're thinking, why not just buy the frozen hash browns? I am a person who likes to know how to make things from scratch. And by now I have made enough things by scratch that Gas Monkey is disappointed when I don't. So it is a failure on my part. I'm so frustrated!

Dad, if you're reading, I'm going to come over one of these days with my fantastic stainless steel pan and take the training I should have had a long time ago. (By the way, Gas Monkey may want the training as well. His are only mildly more successful than my own). I'm bound and determined to conquer this!

Gardening Fever

Now that Gas Monkey and I have built our garden, we have been eager to plant. About a week and a half ago, we set about planting those cold-hardy plants that would survive frosts. I mentioned to my mom that we had the gardening bug, and she replied "You don't have the gardening bug. You have gardening fever!" So far we have planted tomatoes (complete with walls of water), potatoes (at Gas Monkey's insistence), lettuce, spinach, peas, radishes, and green onion. Everyday I water and hope for those encouraging little sprouts to pop up. Yesterday I found those reassuring greens. Our radishes are growing! Granted I'm the least excited about the radishes, but at least something is growing. And I'll be darned if I don't provide all you eager followers with a taste of my own victory by producing a picture (pathetic though it may seem).

In the meantime, I have spring delirium (something worse than fever). I have a hard time spending even a few minutes in the house. I'd much rather be sitting on our new lawn chairs reading. It follows that I don't get anything done and my house looks and feels like a disaster area (not to mention I have a paper to write for the zoo that I am woefully late on and still haven't found a job yet). I even mowed the lawn yesterday to stay outside while feeling "productive."

Pots and Pans

Here is how the story went. About a month ago Gas Monkey and I were sitting outside, our favorite chatting haunt. Perhaps I was complaining about the storage space in my kitchen, or maybe it was out of the blue. Gas Monkey asked me if I would like a pan/pot hanger. I'm sure I looked at him incredulously (I've been reading Pride and Prejudice, so these words may pop up). "A pan hanger? For me? Those can be expensive!" Gas Monkey assured me he could have his friends make one, if I were to design one to my liking. Thrilled, but skeptical, I came with a tasteful yet simple design. "What?!" he asked me incredulously. "You can make it fancier." I eagerly described the difficulties pertaining from my own experiences with pan hangers. Gas Monkey agreed to meet my criteria. However, he wanted to make it much more complicated. We managed to come to an agreement. This is the result. While we quibbled over the tiniest of details, I am very satisfied and proud of my man. His friends did the welding, and he did the sanding and the painting.

My mother will be glad to know that I have since cleaned the bottoms of my pans, avoiding unnecessary tackiness.

Foxy friends

Today I spent the afternoon hanging out with mum, and while we were driving home from some errands, we saw some adorable foxes. I know what you are thinking, ooh ahh foxes (that is meant to sound sarcastic). But living in a urban area makes the mundane suddenly amazing. There is an old church a block from our house, and in the yard was a mommy fox and three pups. And I'm sure everybody will agree that baby-anything is simply delightful. It was cool to watch, because they kept running around playing, oblivious to the world around them. By the time I ran home to grab my camera, they were in their den, so this was the best I could do. Still cute though.

A good day's hard work

This is how much dirt was left when Gas Monkey came home.

So you know that part in Gone with the Wind when Scarlett and her sisters have to start caring for Tara after the war ended and they were left penniless and decimated? I hope most of you will know what I am talking about. Scarlett, being the go-to b@tch that she is, forces her poor sisters to work the cotton fields. The sisters' basic response is "We can't do manual labor, we're ladies!" Then they whine and moan the whole time. Well, I started the day off with the sisters' mentality. I.e. this is bullsh$t. I'm a "lady", whiny whiny whiny. That was because it was early in the morning and that dirt pile was insanely unreasonable. However, as the day progressed I bucked up like a true Scarlett (not that I want to be anything like her. She is a selfish conniving miserable character. No heroine of mine for sure). I managed to move 4/5ths of that dirt before Gas Monkey came home. I was very proud of myself.

The neighbors even felt sympathy for me. Our neighbor Carol, came up to me and said, "Are you crazy? You should wait until Gas Monkey comes home. Let me give you a piece of advice my mother gave me. Don't learn how to do something you don't want to spend the rest of your life doing. It will always be expected of you."

Like the best of retorts, mine brilliantly popped into my mind after the fact, and this is what it would have been. "This is what my mom told me. You can never wait for a man to get the job done. Because who knows when and if that will happen." Not that Gas Monkey does not do his share, but he didn't come home until around 4, and that would have been too late.

As it turned out, Gas Monkey came home bearing gifts (i.e. tulips and beer. The man is getting good about the flowers). He spent about an hour and a half finishing the job, then took me out to a nice dinner. This morning he even heated a wheat pack without my asking, and stuck it in the bed with me. So sweet. He told me that if I work my ass off like that everyday more flowers will follow. Fat chance, I'm back to the lazy ways. But now our garden is ready to be planted. YAY!

And by the way, I just want to give a huge shout-out to my dad. He spent his weekend doing hard labor with us, lessening our load. Gas Monkey works really well with him, even though the two of them managed to override some of my executive decisions (tsk tsk, I forgive you both). Thanks dad! Another thing I owe you for. I believe a nice dinner with our freshly grown vegetables will be in order.

On a side note, Corin has decided it is to his advantage to join Carson and I outside. It is more exciting and way warmer than the inside of our house. I'm so proud of him!

What made me think this was a good idea?

It is Tuesday morning, earlier than I'd like to be up. Thus I have not had time to recover my senses. We just had 6 cubic yards of dirt delivered. Foolishly, we took down the back fence with the high hopes our dirt pile could be close to our beds. WRONG! The dude tells me his truck is too heavy and he does not want to damage our driveway. So now our dirt is on the edge of our driveway, running into the street. To make things worse, 9news says the wind is at 23 mph. I'm so screwed. I wish Gas Monkey could come home . . .

Maybe whiny, lazy me should go get some Starbucks, as if writing a short blog wasn't procrastination enough.

Carson - Wannabe Ninja Kitty!!!

This story is from last week. It was a fine, warm afternoon. Carson and I decided to spend some quality bonding time outside, her cat napping and me reading. (Reminder: Carson is on a leash that lets her wander, but does not allow her to reach the fence or the tree) Carson was perched on her typical spot by the backdoor, observing the world around her, but not moving around much. While I was reading on the back porch, our neighborhood squirrel started trotting across the patio in Carson's direction. It was not until the squirrel was about four feet from Carson that it realized it was in mortal peril. Instantaneously the squirrel starts running towards the tree with Carson in hot pursuit. About three feet from the tree, Carson decided it was time to jump. With her eye on the prize, Carson maintained her attack until she was about four feet in mid-air. Then everything started going wrong. Suddenly she was pulled back, back away from her prey. Thud! She landed in a disgruntled heap on the ground. Stupid leash.

My reactions progressed something along these lines: "brave squirrel, man Carson can run fast, omg she might actually catch it, OH NO!, hahahahahahahaha, oops I hope she is ok."

I feel a little bad about laughing. It's one of those moments when somebody makes a really stupid mistake trying to show off and hurts themselves. You laugh first, then regret later. Carson was not hurt, just her pride. I wonder if she will ever make that mistake again. At least she was wearing a harness and not a collar . . .