I decided I wanted to make a quiche today.

I have a lot of herbs growing, and the only ones we actually use is the rosemary, on chicken and on roast potatoes. I should make some pesto, but I’ve actually never had pesto, so it never occurs to me.

Anyway, so I decided I wanted to make a quiche. I did a search on foodtv and came up with one from Paula Deen, the woman who uses a stick of butter in EVERYTHING. It HAD to be good. It was for bacon and spinach quiche, with swiss cheese.

So I knew I had a bag of spinach in the fridge, but it was bolting rapidly.. I sifted through it, picked out some good leaves and carefully washed and spun them dry in my spinner and chopped them up. then I decided they were too far gone, and I knew if I put spinach in it, there’s no way James would like it. So I ditched the spinach and picked some of my basil. Because hey! that was the whole point anyway!
It called for a pound of bacon. I never use bacon in cooking really. I keep a package in the freezer that I use whenever I make potato soup, but it just never comes out often. I was fortunate that the bacon in the freezer wasn’t freezer burned. So I pulled it out, cut some off the slab, and cooked it up.

I realized it wasn’t nearly enough.

So I pulled out the bacon again and cut up the remaining slab. that’s right. ALL OF IT.

Look at all that precious artery clogging GREASE! Gee, I wonder why I don’t eat this stuff very often?

I didn’t have any swiss cheese, so I just used cheddar.

It called for cream, but nope, haven’t got any of that, so I just used 2% milk. I figured there was enough extra fat from the bacon anyway.
I also didn’t have any pie crusts on hand, and sure as hell wasn’t going to make any.
So…. I’m making a Spinach, Bacon and Swiss Quiche.

Except there’s no crust, basil instead of spinach, and cheddar instead of swiss. Also, I like corn, so I put some corn in it too.

So really, it’s a Crustless No-Spinach, No-Swiss, Plenty-o-Bacon, Corn & BASIL Cheddar Quiche. YUM!

I also forgot to put the basil INTO the quiche. I slid it into the oven when my eyes lit on the chopped basil that WASN’T IN THE ACTUAL QUICHE ARGH, so I kind of stuck my hand full of basil into the hot oven and tried to fling it in there on top (where it will now probably burn, oh goody!) without losing a limb.

You know how those chefs on the food network are always sliding stuff into the trash as they prep and cook and saute and they finish with something and have a cloth to handily wipe it off their cutting boards and countertops, and by the time they’re done everything in the kitchen is sparkly-er and shinier than it was when they started?

Yeah, I’m not like that.

Recipe:
6 eggs
1 1/2 c. 2% milk
lots of pepper
1 lb of bacon
a handful of grated cheddar cheese (I didn’t measure, I just used the bit of cheese that was left.)
couple of handfuls of corn
chopped basil

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

I sprayed my tart dish with a Pam-like spray, and then put the bacon in the bottom.

(Holy shit that’s a lot of bacon.)

Then came the corn and the cheddar cheese.

then I poured the egg-milk mixture carefully over the top.

Put in the oven, but remembered the basil and tossed that in there on top.

10 min. update: Quiche is in the oven cooking now. It smells delicious. Anything with that much bacon should be good.

20 min. update: Basil isn’t burning. Yet. Smells yummilicious. I’m getting hungry.

Baked for about 45 minutes – until there was no jiggling. My oven tends to take 5 minutes longer than most recipes call for.

post-cooking: this quiche is so yummy. I was correct, in that lots of bacon = GOOOOOOD. Now I will probably go bacon-free for another 5 years. Basil didn’t burn, everything was soooo delicious. If I had one complaint, it would be that it was a touch on the salty side. I salted the eggs, which was probably unnecessary, since bacon has plenty of it. Still. Yum.

UPDATE: James even liked it. Or he knew what was good for him and made himself eat it. And lie to me with a straight face. He’s a smart man.

No big house projects were done or started on this weekend, as I had bigger fish to fry, visiting with long lost LINDA!

(Look at me, playing in photoshop, wheeee!)

I met Linda at BYU’s Theatre Workshop when we were both.. oh I don’t know.. 14? 13? Workshop was the point in my young life where I truly moved from “child” to “young adult.” Have 30-50 people work together, play together, eat together, sleep together, build, dance, act, sing together for 5 weeks, and you get very close. It was an amazing experience and when it was over, it was heartbreaking to say goodbye. I didn’t know her well the first year, but I went back the next year and we immediately bonded as several in the small group that had gone to workshop the year before. Linda is quite the writer, and it meant that she corresponded diligently throughout all our time apart. I couldn’t tell you where the other friends I made at workshop ended up (except when I ask linda, and she sometimes knows), but Linda and I wrote diligently.

We both ended up at BYU freshman year, which made “keeping in touch” much easier 🙂 The summer after freshman year, we decided that we simply MUST room together at least one term, short as it might be, and so spent summer term in Campus Plaza, a hole of an apartment complex whose biggest asset is the proximity to campus (I could get out of bed at 7:50 and still make it to my 8am class with a few minutes to spare). We had many adventures, hiking to the Y, driving up to Park City where my folks lived for the weekend, and a road trip to Grand Junction, CO for the 4th of July (we were determined to go to a state that would celebrate the FOURTH OF JULY HOLIDAY ON THE ACTUAL FOURTH OF JULY – and it was on a Sunday, and therefore celebrated Saturday instead of Sunday in most of Utah. GOOD LORD PEOPLE.)

She also roomed with me a year later after one of my roomates moved to the dorms and we had a spot open in my apartment. She later transfered to Arizona State University, and I later transferred Away From Utah. I visited her in Arizona, she visited me in Atlanta, we met in New Orleans once. She was (one of) my maid of honor when I was married, and through the glory of email we’ve kept in touch. I haven’t seen her in quite a while though, and so I was very excited to see her this weekend and hear about her adventures in Korea and in life.

Much was discussed over chips and queso (the girl’s been in Korea, of course she must be taken to California Tortilla for chips and queso), aimless driving in the car, and in a quaint little park in Manassas were we just chilled out for a few hours. More was discussed at home, over many many many MANY alcoholic beverages. I made waffles in the morning that lacked the proper amount of eggs, and the proper amount of baking powder, and subsequently were like eating cardboard. They made me feel as if I’d eaten a brick (not a good feeling when the hangover is just barely staved off). I was sad to see her go after I drove her to the bus station in DC (and again, sorry about making you late, darest dearling!)

Anyway, lovely weekend, mostly spent visiting with Linda Lou Lou.

My favorite sheets, the first ones I bought for our real live adult bed, the beautiful soft cotton 500 thread count sheets… have finally given up the ghost.

In fact, they probably gave up the ghost about a month before I stopped using them, but I was in denial. The threadbare spots gave way to actual holiness, and not the kind of holiness that brings you closer to God. The kind that brings you closer to MATTRESS.

Still even they they had holes and I’d mended some rips in them, they still had to have some practical use, right? YES DAMMIT I LOVE THEM I’M KEEPING THEM IN SOME FORM OR ANOTHER!

Well, I am always intrigued when I read my Lucy Maud Montgomery books and they talk about braided or rag rugs.

So, fIrst, I tore my beloved top sheet into 1″ strips. Then I crotched myself a nifty bag. I don’t think I have any pictures of my bag.

Both the kids were quite taken with my bag. So next I made one for Jocelyn.

I didn’t think Ethan would like a bag, so I started to make a rug for him to go next to his bed. But when I told him that, he informed me that he wanted a bag too. So I made him one too.

What these bags really need are linings.

I was pretty enamored with my bag for a while. I even stopped using my purse completely. However, the novelty has worn off and the drudgery of digging through the bag for all my crap — well, I’ve lost my love of the bag. I need a bag with pockets – and different sections.

Maybe I could sew up a lining with sections / dividers, but honestly, I am really not that great a sewer. I took the mandatory sewing in home ec. in jr. high, but all my efforts since then, including the stab at quilting I’ve done a few times, have been of my own engineering and thoughts with no real knowledge of the “correct” way to do anything to back me up.

So if anyone wants to throw some sewin’ learnin’ at me, I would be so appreciative.

Still. Cute bag. Love the super-whiteness of it.

I’ve been following this story. The 13 acre community garden in South Central LA got plowed today. Very sad.

I wish it had turned out differently. The garden was located in an area with the highest concentration of impoverished residents county wide and served as both a source for food and a safe place for families and people to spend time in an area surrounded by warehouses and factories. A food bank sits across the street and coordinates food distribution to local charities.

The land’s ownership has been disputed and only recently (it was arranged in 2003) been sold back from the city to Horowitz, the previous owner. CNN reports quotes from the owner that makes it sound as if he has generously let them farm there for the past decade, but in actuality he got his land back and is turning right around and selling it. They were there by permit from the city, not from any boon from him.

The Trust for Public Land, with help from The Annenberg Foundation tried to raise the money to buy the land. When they offered Horowitz the price he was asking, he refused to sell to them.

This just makes me want to cry.

There are other garden sites offered by the city to the farmers. I can fully understand wanting to keep what you’ve worked so hard on for over a decade, however. When they first started, they hauled away barrels and barrels of concrete, glass and metal. Several celebrities joined in the protest and they, along with the farmers had to be bodily removed.

I would have climbed a tree too.

Read more:

April 5 – L.A. Urban Farmers Fight for Community Garden, The New Standard
June 13 – We Shall Over Mulch!
June 13 – Daryl Hannah Removed from Tree, CNN
today, constantly updated – Sheriffs Deputies Evict South Central Farmers, LA Voice

ust in case you’re not keeping track, I have something of a fetish with seeds. I’m very good at collecting. Even germinating! After that though, I’m only good about going about my business and forgetting to water until they are ALL DEAD except for 2 tomato plants, and 1 impatiens plant, which is displayed HERE:

Sad isn’t it. Couple normal impatiens plants next to it so you can see how pathetic it is. I’m curious to see what color the flowers will be though. So, all in all, me and seeds = kind of a love hate thing. I love them, I forget them, they hate me.

So I don’t know why I got all giddy with excitement when I realized that my columbine bushes have gone to SEED! Just for reference, here is a picture of one of the bushes (I have 2) from May:

These pretty bushes have actually bloomed a few times and I thought that the little bulbs were actually buds waiting to spring forth into beautiful color, but as I was out puttering around, noticed that some of them were drying out, and showing the seeds within. SEEDPODS! Not flower buds! A-DUH! I felt silly. But only for a minute. I just love collecting seeds.

So of course, I snipped all of the seedpods off the two bushes and carried them in to extract the precious seed booty!

Yes. I snipped them all. Why? No reason, I knew I wasn’t going to harvest all of them, but I figured why not. Honestly, I should have waited longer for most of these pods to try out completely, and it would have made getting the seeds a bit easier. But the seeds were done, and I didn’t actually want to get ALL the seeds, just some of them, so I didn’t mind the fact that most of them were still pretty green. Just makes my fingers stickier.

Basically, I could see the seeds inside each little “straw” that makes up the seedpod.

All I had to do with the pods that were sufficiently dry, was hold it over my outstretched palm and shake the seeds out.

Some of the greener “straws” I just sliced open with my thumbnail and then dumped the seeds out.

After about 8 seedpods, I had a little over a teaspoon of seeds.

I’ve now read a bit about columbine seeds, and they require a moist/cold period to bring them out of dormancy called “stratification.” Not sure what exactly I’ll do with my new seeds for next year, but … now I have some 🙂

Next project – fancy seed envelopes 🙂

Just finished watching Good Night, and Good Luck.

Liked it just fine.

But the thing that really got to me was the music. If you’ve seen the movie, I KNOW you remember the few scenes of the woman singing the beautiful jazz standards. At first, just sat back, enjoyed, and thought “Gotta find out who that is.”

Then I thought… “Could it be her?”

After a few milliseconds more, I KNEW it was her, KNEW it was my beloved Dianne Reeves – wasn’t sure who that lady in the movie was, but that voice was Dianne Reeves, a voice like a slow drink of whiskey, a voice, that one person stated in an Amazon review, that “has the power to turn any room in your house into a smoky jazz club.”

Oh, I could just sink into that voice forever.

If you enjoy jazz, I highly recommend picking up Dianne Reeves “I Remember” – not a huge fan of the first track, but god, the whole CD is awesome. I swear she has an orgasm on a couple tracks (a musical orgasm, if you will). I’ll play it for you next time you’re over. I’ll even try not to sing along (that’s a very tall order and I make NO PROMISES). However, I predict that the “Good Night, and Good Luck” cd will rival it for first place in my affections.

I was introduced to her when I was in High School. I sang in jazz choir in school, and in the northwest, vocal jazz was IT. We went to festivals all over the state (WA) as well as neighboring states (ID, OR) and provinces (Vancouver & Victoria BC). I still remember when one of the guys in choir mentioned how he had gone to see her downtown one weekend the BURNING jealousy I had for him, and even anger that he did not INFORM ME so that I could go. She was an adjudicator at one of the festivals we attended, and performed in an evening concert, but more importantly, held a Q&A session with only about 20 people. I can’t remember any of it, however.

I just remember she was amazing.

The woman has won four consecutive Grammy’s.? Seriously, I can’t stop wigging out here. She HAS A CHRISTMAS ALBUM! HOW did I NOT KNOW THAT?? (yup, won a grammy.)
My major in college was music, Voice with an emphasis in Jazz. However, I went to college at BYU, in Provo, which is in Utah, where any mention of jazz was met with basketball talk. Not a big jazz sort of place. I didn’t graduate, and while I am entirely to blame, I wonder if I would have stayed interested and hard working if I was in a school that could really take me down the path I wanted to go. Jazz emphasis or not, BYU didn’t have the path. (It didn’t have a lot of other paths for me too, but this post is about jazz, mmmkay?)
I just loaded up a ton of 80s music on my ipod and was on a total 80s kick today, but I think that kick ended … oh… about an hour and a half ago 🙂 Time to start loading up the jazz.

And making an amazon purchase!

Do you like jazz?

I bet you do. Norah Jones? She’s luscious, isn’t she? How about Harry Connick Jr? Or even Squirrel Nut Zippers? Royal Crown Revue? I would even stick Brian Setzer and his fabulous orchestra in there, and guess what, that’s all jazz, baby. All that great music on your Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack – jazz baby! Give Dianne a listen, and I bet you won’t regret it – and this soundtrack is a great place to start.

– amy sings, be still my heart!

I no longer have a PKR. Today I dropped him off at the Honda dealership in Manassas, and he called this evening to inform me he’s the proud new owner of an small Isuzu SUV.

It has been nice to drive in the HOV lane, but overall, I’ll be glad to have my unfettered commute back. I had to leave by 6:50am every morning in order to get to his place at 7:15. I think I made it there by 7:15… maybe one time. I was always closer to 7:20 or 7:30, and it bugged me every time that I was late, even though he never seemed to care. Yesterday (Tuesday) he took the day off from work for personal business and so I commuted alone. I left a little later than I usually do – about 7:10am – and still arrived at work about the time I would have w/ my PKR, 8am.

He has always been the perfect passenger, never touching the radio or even commenting on my choice of listening material, but I have always been kind of self conscious about whatever I play and am constantly flipping around.

Also, I am always very self conscious listening to my favorite music that I MUST sing along to. I didn’t let my PKR stop me, but it will be nice to belt away without being conscious of every note.

So.. while I won’t miss him on my commute so much, I will miss him. He is a nice man and our morning and afternoon chats have always been nice.

– amy told him about the “PKR” business, and he laughed and laughed.

I posted to craiglist with some miscelaneous baby stuff that we no longer need. Strollers, pack and play, that sort of thing.

Here are examples of what NOT to send if you are interested in something:

“I am interested in the double stroller.”

I wanted to reply, “Good for you,” with nothing else. It is like pulling teeth. I reply, “Great, I can let you look at in the evenings here, in this zip code, or I can take it with me to work and you can look at it here, in this zip code.”

I get back:

“Wow, that is far. I work in this zip code.”

Nothing else. Nothing about how she is now not interested, or is willing to make the trek.. nothing. I get to pull more teeth. Or ignore her. Which I think I will be doing.
Next annoying email:

“if you still have tha dable stroller i whant to know haw much is tha lees preace”

This one is frustrating, because I’m not quite sure what they are asking. I don’t know about you, but I’m not interesting in leasing the stroller, I want to SELL it. After looking at it for a while, I think they mean the least price. It looks as if english is their second language, so I am a bit more understanding of them than the first emailer, who was just annoyingly dumb.

I have not (yet) gotten my other pet peeve, which is an email which only asks, “Is this still available?” with no other indication of interest.

I’LL DELETE IT WHEN IT IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE PEOPLE! IF YOU SEE THE AD, IT’S STILL AVAILABLE!

I’m done now.

At least, until I get more annoying email.

While my folks and my brother were in town, we managed to go into DC and see some sights. My favorite, which I’ve seen many many times, and always see again when I go into DC for siteseeing, is James McNeil Whistler’s The Peacock Room.

I think the history of the room is why I like it so much.

Whistler’s patron, Leyland, was redecorating his dining room, mainly he wanted more shelving on which to display his porcelain collection. Whistler’s painting, “The Princess from the Land of Porcelain” was hung over the fireplace, and the designer consulted the painter about whether a certain color on the walls would clash with the painting. Whistler asked permissiong to retouch the walls, which Leyland agreed to.

Then Leyland went out of town, and in his absense, the creative spirit overtook Whistler, and he really went to town on the room, making all sorts of changes and embellishments, like putting gold leaf on the ceiling and painting the shutters over the windows with beautiful plumed peacocks.

Well, he told Leyland about the changes and added that it wasn’t done yet, and not to come back home until it was finished – all the while he brought his friends and even the press through the room to show it off. Leyland was kind of miffed, because he had only agreed on the minor changes and wasn’t prepared for the additional cost of these embellishments, which he hadn’t even signed off on. When it came time to pay for the painter’s work, Leyland voiced his displeasure, and finally agreed to pay for HALF the total Whistler wanted for payment, and then to add insult to injury, he paid him in pounds, instead of guineas. A pound is worth 20 shillings, and is considered the a tradesman’s currency, while payment to artists is usually made in guineas, which is worth 21 shillings.

Obviously, Whistler was upset and insulted by the quibbling over money for his fabulous work of art, and so he took the liberty of adding even more embellishments to the room. A large mural was painted on the wall opposite The Princess, and he depicted two peacocks in a fighting stance. One of the peacocks had feathers sticking out along it’s neck, which points him out as representing Leyland, and the ruffled shirts he always wore. He is in a position of dominance over the other peacock, and has coins scattered at his feet, showing the money that Leyland did not want to pay. The other peacock had a feather sticking up from his head, which was similar to a lock of Whistler’s hair (cowlick maybe?).

(The only photo that actually looks in focus! Wowee!)

He also made other changes to the room, taking the valuable leather hangings and painting them a brillian prussian blue, which I suppose could be considered ruining them. The sad part is that the painter never saw his room again, after he finished.

The room was bought and passed through several hands before it came to Charles Lang Freer, who left it to the Smithsonian upon his death. I beleive it had to go through some major rennovation at this point, as it had been taken apart and put together so many times.

It makes me happy to go sit in the Peacock room and look around, it is so beautiful. But it also makes me sad. Obviously, it is good that it is in a museum so that so many can look at it and enjoy it, but it still saddens me. I wonder about the parties that Leyland must have thrown in the room when it was in his house, and the comments that must have been made about it’s ornate embellishments. I wish I could see it back then, with the shutters thrown open and sunlight flooding in, the door to the kitchen opening and closing with servants bustling food and plates in and out. What would the colors look like with the daylight shining in? In the musuem, it is very dark, obviously the low light protects the room, but I just wish I could see how it would be, functioning as a normal room, with people sitting down to dinner, or milling around with a cocktail in one hand. Leyland telling the story about the room, and what his guests must have thought of it all. I can’t help thinking that Leyland probably got a good deal of enjoyment out of telling the story, since he kept it just as it was for twelve years (until he died). I wonder if years later, after the sting had left the situation, if he was sorry he hadn’t paid Whistler the full price asked. I bet he got his money’s worth out of the story alone.

Now that I’ve told you the story as I remember it, I found a link that has the official story – be sure to read it, as I have omitted some of the details (glad to see I got a good bit of it right, though 🙂 ) Also, their pictures are much better than my fuzzy-low-light ones. And I hope next time you’re in DC, stop by the Freer Gallery and have a peek into the Peacock room. I always do 🙂

I showed you one of the canker sores I got.

What? I didn’t?

Oh fine, here you go:

That was in mid March.

Since then, I had a double canker sore (2 of them VERY close together, just inside the corner of my mouth), and then about a week or 2 after that cleared up, I got another one on the other side of my mouth, and NOW, I have one in front, behind my lower lip. It started out as just a wee sore spot, and then it was a teeny tiny little white spot of a canker sore, and now it’s a full on raging canker sore and it’s driving me crazy. I THINK it’s on the decline now.

So what happens? MY TONGUE IS STARTING TO FEEL ALL SORE AND CANKERY AND SOMEONE JUST SHOOT ME NOW.

Seriously, this will be my sixth canker sore this year. In fact, I think I had one or two before I took that picture of my tongue, which means even more than that.

That is SO NOT RIGHT.

I’m beginning to think I am eating or drinking something that is causing these fuckers. I hope it’s not my gum. (Trident, and Juicy Fruit) I love gum. I hope it’s not diet coke. I love diet coke.
WAAAAAHHHHHHHH.

the end.