Just The Two of Us

This Little Lamb of Mine...

I have no idea why the old Sunday school song "This Little Light of Mine" is going round and round in my head.  I am just guessing here, but I bet it's going round and round in your head now, too.  You're welcome. Whenever I think back on the little lamb that roasted in my oven, I can't help but sing that song. Perhaps it is because Jesus was the lamb.. ?  Crazy connection, I know.  I'm a little off like that.

I hope you all had a fab Christmas.  Between the broken water heater on Christmas Eve, and some work issues that cropped up on Christmas Day, I'd say that RDub and I could have just skipped this one altogether.   Not one to dwell on the past (with the exception of those... very occasional marital spats, in which case dwelling on the past seems to be the proper and most... convincing way to uhh, win an argument), RW and I are looking forward to next Christmas.  We are sure that next Christmas will be much improved.

One bright spot on Christmas Day was the lamb.  No, not the Lamb of God, although I must say that without that particular Lamb, Christmas would just be.. December 25th.  No, I speak of the poor little lamb that gave its life for RDub and I.  No, NO!  Not THAT Lamb.  The one I purchased at the grocery store to eat.  That one.

I waltzed right up to the grocery store on December 23rd, completely unaware that this particular day, is in fact, the busiest grocery day of the year.  Makes sense, I'm sure. I just hadn't thought of it.  I had to go to the fancy grocery store because no one else sold rack of lamb. It just so happens that every 3rd person in the state of MN was ALSO at the fancy grocery store that evening.  Nothing says Merry Christmas like 3,000 stressed out folks trying to wave down someone at the meat counter.  Oh yes, it was fun.  Particularly fun was the looks I got from the other 2,999 people when the butcher asked me how many people this rack of lamb was to serve:

ME: "2.  2 people."

Butcher: [shouting, I swear to you] TWO PEOPLE?  You are only serving TWO with this rack of lamb?"

Everyone turned to look at this loser of a person, who for Christmas, was only serving... [gasp] 2.  And on top of it, was buying a rack of lamb, as if the fanciness of the meal compensated for the.. lack of friends.  On Christmas.

Head held high, I asked the butcher to please "french" that rack of lamb.  I said this with a certain assertive authority, as if I really understood what I was asking him to do.  But I acted like I did.  And he did.  French it, that is.

I made my [as it turns out, significant] purchases, and headed home.  On Christmas Day, I pulled out that lamb, and rubbed the spices on it, wondering as I did, what I had gotten myself into:

 
I put it in the oven, marvelling at the fact the instructions stated it would take just 12 - 18 minutes.  Wow.  That's fast.  After 18 minutes I pulled it out, and realized that it was no where near done.  I put it back in.  Repeat. Again.  Ooohh.  That's 18 minutes a POUND?  Let's face it, I never was good at reading the directions all the way through.  I eventually figured it out. 

 
 
Aren't you impressed?  RW was, for sure, and that's really all that matters.  And  in case you are so enthralled with the rack of lamb that you wish to serve it to your beloved family this weekend?  Well, before you make a rash decision, I want you to have all of the facts:

 
Just sayin.  Make sure you really, REALLY love lamb.

And did I mention that this fancy grocery store brought in a grand piano for the big event of the busiest grocery-shopping day of the year?  Yes they did.  Although I must admit, the festiveness of the carols the gentleman was playing did not compensate for the $74.00 I paid for the lamb, or the festive crabbiness of the other 2,999 people shopping.  Not. One. Bit.

I am excited about this week's cookbook selection:

 

Leave a number between 43 and 329.  There is only 1 recipe per page in this book.  The movie category this week is Drama.  Include a number between 1 & 10 for the movie, as well.  I'm hoping we'll be skipping the sacrificial lamb this week and go right to the eggs.

Er.. Come Again? What, exactly, did Santa deliver?

Last night I was making the rounds through the set of blogs that I read.  I was doing this on Christmas Eve.  Yes, yes I was.  Why, you ask?  Why was I parked at my computer on, of all nights.. Christmas Eve?  Let me tell you.  Around 12:30p I was making the Green Bean Casseroles for my family gathering later in the afternoon.  I turned on the kitchen faucet to clean up some dishes, and waited for the water to get warm.  And waited.  Oh - and waited some more.

Hmm.  That's not good.  I ran upstairs to the bathroom and turned on the shower to see if there was hot water there.  Not sure what I was thinking... why would there be hot water in one part of the house if there wasn't somewhere else?  Wishful, I was, let me tell you.  Positively optimistic that although our kitchen had no hot water, our shower would.  I am hopeful like that. Because nothing says shoot me now, like an ice cold shower on a wintery day.  As you could guess, no hot water there either.

I went back downstairs and opened the dungeon basement door.  I tentatively stepped down into the horror that is called our basement, and saw a problem before even hitting the bottom step.  There is water.  Everywhere.  I looked more closely and saw our trusty hot water heater, burping up water as if it suffered from a bad case of acid reflux.  Vomiting it all over our dungeon basement floor.

I trotted back upstairs and went out into the cold, cold world to find RW.  As it happens, I found him up on the roof, shoveling off the snow.

ME: "Hey Babe!  We don't have any hot water."

RW: "Where?"

ME: "Uh, anywhere?  And there's water coming out of our hot water heater.  Just saying."

RW climbed off of his roof perch to survey the damage.  It took him about 10 seconds to pronounce that we were shortly to become the proud owners of a new hot water heater.  A BIGGER hot water heater.

So instead of celebrating the birth of our Christ with beloved family, we were at home installing a water heater. "We" may be a smidge of an exaggeration.. RW was mostly installing the hot water heater.  Before you think that I just watched all of the fun, I did aid RDub in polishing the copper pipes, readying them for the soldering that RW was talented enough to do.  He is my hero. My hot water hero.

All of that brings me to my blogs, the ones that I was zipping through last night whilst RDub labored in the dungeon basement.  This tidbit about Christmas traditions caught my eye.  Incredulous, I re-read what I had just glanced at.  This is the little gem I came across:

"...we also don't put baby Jesus in any of our Nativity scenes - Santa Claus does it on Christmas Eve.   This is our preparation for the real meaning of the season...."

Huh? Come again?

I'm fairly certain that 1) the stork didn't deliver baby Jesus to the world, and 2) neither did Santa Claus.  And broken heater or not, if I taught that to my [hypothetical] children, I just may find myself in hot water. 

That said, merry Christmas.  May your showers be warm and the "real meaning of the season" involve... Christ.  What a concept.

And He Shall Reign Forever and Ever

Merry Christmas, everyone!  I hope you all have a chance in the next couple of days to relax, spend time with family, and reflect upon the meaning of Christmas.

Last month someone posted this youtube video on Facebook. 

I watched it, mesmerized. Not only is this one of the most inspired pieces of music written (ever), but there is something so profoundly theological to hear this beautiful, cathedral worthy (heaven worthy, really) music, sung in such an ordinary place as a shopping mall food court.

This is, I realized, part of my statement of faith.

I am ordinary.  God is extraordinary.  Yet throughout my ordinary every-day life, God's extraordinary beauty, love, grace and mercy surround me. 

"The kingdom of this world Is become the Kingdom of our LORD

And of His Christ, and of His Christ,

And He shall reign forever and ever."

Do I ever doubt?  Yes, every so often a seed of doubt creeps into my mind, and catches me off-guard.  But as I listened to Handell's Hallelujah Chorus I knew without a shadow of doubt, that I believe.

"King of kings, and LORD of lords, King of kings, and LORD of lords,

And He shall reign forever and ever!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!"

May the extraordinary God show Himself to you today, and may you have the wisdom to let Him into your ordinary life.  Merry Christmas, everyone!

 

And the Winner Is...

Rebecca!  Page 492.  And it's a doozy, but appropriate for Christmas Day:

Roasted Rack of Lamb with Moroccan Spice Rub

Can't say I've ever made rack of lamb before, but I've always wanted to since seeing it served to Kate Hudson in How to Lose A Guy in 10 Days.  The reality is, I've never been brave enough before.

Let's hope it doesn't take the route of the nut roll..

Kristi, send me Rebecca's email address, or whichever email you want the $20 Amazon gift card to go to.  Meanwhile, I'll be attempting to figure out how to "french" a rack of lamb.  Yes, that's a cooking term.  Don't feel bad, I didn't know it either.

Awkwardness

Here's an awkward situation for you... There is a guy that I see on a semi-regular basis.  Before you get any ideas, let me clarify that he works at a local store, and his son wrestled on the same high school team as our nephew (waaaaay back when our handsome, full-of-charm nephew lived with us).  So we have "known" him for quite some time.

The problem lies in the fact that he believes my name to be Nancy.  The awkwardness is that I didn't correct him the first time.  So here we are, 8 years later, and I'm solidly a "Nancy" in his mind.  Which gets more and more uncomfortable as the years slide by.  Now I don't really feel uncomfortable with being called Nancy.  Where I start to feel slightly ill at ease, a small tightening of my gut, is projecting into the future when he realizes my name isn't actually... Nancy.

Charlie:  [moving my merchandise over the register scanner] "How are you doing today, Nancy?  Got any big weekend plans?"

ME: [handing over my debit card] "Doing well, Charlie, doing well.  Just a lot of shoveling happening at our house.. how about you?"

[oh PLEASE don't look at the name on my debit card.  Please please PLEASE!  Just keep him talking, Deb, keep him talking.]

ME: "...can't believe the snow this year, huh? [weather is always a distracting topic here in MN].  Do you have a snow-blower, or are you stuck shoveling?” [now to be honest here, I’m not sure I am really that curious if he snow-blows vs. shovels.  However if it stops him from examining my debit card, I'm going to continue on that line of conversation.]

And on and on it goes.  For 8 years.  We don't live in the big city.  Our "town" isn't small, by any means, but trust me, it's small enough to run into people on a semi-regular basis.  Except my friend Jeneal.  We were best of friends from about age 5 to 18 [well, we were part of a "three-some" of friends, which means one of us was always, and I mean always left out. That's a whole other blog post. Trust me.]  Anyway, as life would have it, we actually live about 2 miles from each other, and have for the past 10 years.  I never run into her, unfortunately.  But Charlie, I see about town all the time.  Figures.

So back to the awkwardness. It's a little too late to correct him.  I can just see the conversation:

"Uh, actually Charlie, I know you think my name is Nancy, and yes, you have been calling me that for 8 years.  However, you are wrong.  My name is Deb.  And it has been ever since we met you.  Why didn't I correct you the first time?  Because I'm a spineless coward who hates to make others feel weird.  Oh - you feel 8 years worth of piled-up weird now?  Yeah... really sorry about that."

Since spineless, cowardly me would never say that to friendly ol' local Charlie, I'm stuck being Nancy.  And hopefully I can put off the inevitable for another 8 years.

Dinner and (no) Movie

It being Monday and all, means that another Dinner & a Movie is in order.  I made the Chicken last night - you know, the kind of boring chicken with mushrooms on top.  If you recall, I actually brought the food to Karen & Nathan's house to share.  Everyone ate it, although I did hear a certain 5-year-old tell her 2-year-old sister not to ask for more, "because it's gross".

 
 
 

This week I'm going out on a limb.  I hauled out this cookbook:

 

I figured since we'd be home all day on Christmas, I could stand to make a more complicated meal.  Now, I might just get lucky and get assigned something quite basic, but I suspect that my loyal readers secretly (or not) want to see me get stuck with something... less basic. 

Leave a comment choosing a page between 35 and 853.  If your comment is chosen and there is more than 1 recipe on that page, I will use Random.org to choose the recipe for me.  RDub & I didn't have a chance to watch the movie chosen for us last week, so we'll keep that one on the agenda for this week.

In the spirit of Christmas, if your comment is chosen you will win a $20 Amazon gift card.  You have until Thursday morning to comment.  And then we shall see what a "joy" cooking is...

Fair Weather Fan...?

RDub may now get the dreaded designation of Fair Weather fan.  As in literally.  Since  our stadium roof collapsed last week, there was a mad NFL scramble to get the football stadium at the University of Minnesota ready for an NFL game.  There were problems with this plan.. let me name a few:

1. It is an outdoor stadium.  The Vikings play indoors.  The fans sit indoors.

2. It is not a winterized stadium, as in the field is/was frozen solid.  They are, as we speak, thawing it out.  Not to mention the hundreds of people that were required to shovel all of the snow OUT of the stadium to get ready for Monday Night Football.  Yup, every stinking seat had to get shoveled off.  The field was covered in snow - remember that uh.. blizzard we had last week?  The snow didn't actually grow tiny snowflake feet and march itself off the field after it landed there, knowing that it was in the way.  No, it wasn't courteous like that.

3. 4 to 8 more inches of snow is currently falling. Again, very un-courteous.

4. This game was a sold-out game.  All 64,000 seats at the Metrodome were accounted for.  Small little issue... the U of MN stadium holds 50,000 people.  Do you perhaps see a problem here?  The NFL "fixed" this problem by designating the game as general seating and first-come/first-serve.  I'm sure that there is nothing a Minnesotan would like better, than to stand in line for 2 hours to ensure they actually get a seat at a game they already have a ticket to.  In the freezing cold.

All to say, these.... issues... were a smidge too much for RW to bear, and he determinedly put his foot down.  He will not be accompanying me to the game tonight.  Wimp.  He would be quick to remind all that he is a "5th-generation" Californian, and not meant to be cold.  Ever. 

Fine then.  My friend Shannon and I will be sharing the adventure of a snowy, cold, outdoor football game.  And having fun, for sure.  Being one that despises cold myself, I undertook the [significant] project of making sure I was warm.  For those that need a lesson, I shall be glad to share the results of my research:

1.  Wear a warm hat.  Now... I must admit I am straying from my usual fashion here.  RDub would say that I always go form over function.  No, tonight I am solidly in the function category, wouldn't you say?  I knew that fur hat from Eddie Bauer would someday come in handy.

 
2. Understand that fans need to wear team colors.  Which is why there is a purple hat going over the fur.  Oh, and the scarf.  The scarf is purple.

 
 

3. Footwear.  Although really very ugly, Uggs are quite warm.  Especially if you have footwarmers, and 2 pairs of wool socks on with them:

 
 
 
4. Equally important is one's core.  I will have so many layers on that I'll probably waddle like a duck, or maybe, a pregnant woman.  Either way, I'll be waddling.  We've got the thinsulate hoodie, the turtleneck, the sweater, the fan-wear, and the coat...

 
 
 
 
5. Last but certainly not least... we need these:

 
Stay tuned.. I'll fill you in on the adventure tomorrow.  And meanwhile, RDub ought to feel ashamed... ASHAMED of himself!  Fair-weather fan, indeed.

Supremely... Safe.

Brax won this week's dinner & movie selection, with page 323 and movie #6.  I however, failed to include the instruction of choosing recipe # 1 or #2 along with the comment, and so I contacted Brax to ask his choice.

I am eternally grateful that he chose recipe#2, as #1 included an ingredient that I consider just this side of revolting... the dreaded sauerkraut.  Instead we go safe, if not just a tad boring... Chicken Breast Supreme.  Fortunately for me, I already have all of the ingredients.  Unfortunately for Karen, those ingredients include mushrooms.

The movie is one I've ALWAYS wanted to watch, I can't believe I didn't catch it in the movie theater.  Instead, I shall try to be content with watching this epic film in the home theater, without the surround sound, movie popcorn, and gallon-sized Pepsi. 

This week's main feature is The Spirit of the Marathon, which follows 6 runners from "vastly different backgrounds as they train for 26.2 miles of glory."  Yes, I'm sure that jealously abounds among my readers, but may I remind you that you too, can experience the thrill of the marathon, through the miracle of Netflix. 

On a different note, this week had a Wednesday in it. Granted, I know that most weeks have a Wednesday, but this week's Wednesday was Karis' birthday.  At work.  Well, she probably and most likely also experienced her birthday at home as well, but I only saw her at work.  And if you recall, I do cupcakes for staff birthdays.  Sparkly, magical cupcakes, of course.

So Tuesday night, pandemonium broke loose in my kitchen.  The kitchen with very little counter space.  Somehow, out that that kitchen, the pandas broke free:

 
 
 
 Yes, the close up reveals many... flaws.  But since perfection doesn't suit me, I'm going to have be okay with that.

 

Dinner with The Apostles of Comedy

Forgive me for being a day late (but certainly not a dollar short - I'll need those dollars for Christmas) on Dinner & a Movie.  But as they say, better late than never, right?  I'm going to go with that theory.

Didn't I tell you - the third time is a charm?  This weeks dinner beat last weeks nut roll by a mile.  And the taco casserole, as well.  At least it tasted good, even if RDub thought the potatoes were a little dry.

Those of your familiar with Rachael Ray know that she is under the [perky] impression that one can make an entire meal in 30 minutes.  I do know this is possible, particularly if you are making something like.. let's say... MILKSHAKES for dinner.  I can for sure make those in under 3o minutes.  But Salisbury Steak, Creamed Spinach, Mashed Potatoes & Peach Cobbler?  Really?  In 30 minutes, huh?  I was skeptical.  And as it turns out, for good reason.

Now I must say, I believe [strongly] that I have a small kitchen with very little counter space.  RW [strongly] disagrees.  If I remember correctly, his comment was something along the lines of: "Please.  Your kitchen is WAAAY better and WAAAY bigger than most of the world." Ok, can't really argue that.  Especially if "most of the world" includes the mud huts of Africa and the kitchens of New York City.  Which speaking of the kitchens of New York City, I told RDub that those kitchens are so small because no one in NYC actually cooks.  Score one for me.

Back to the dinner at hand.  In true Rachael Ray style, I had most of my burners firing away all at one time:

 
Not having made Salisbury steak before (it has a bit of a troubled reputation), I have to say it looked suspiciously like hamburgers.

I started making our 30-minute meal at precisely 6:17.  I was not finished at 6:47.  Not even close.  For goodness sakes, it's not as if I'm a stranger to the kitchen.  I think Rachael Ray built this enormous, false empire (FALSE! I tell you!) on 30-minute meals.  Well, I'm here to call.her.out.  30-minutes it wasn't, but eventually I got everything on RW's tray, and we were ready for our "movie".

 

Notice I put "movie" in quotes.  2 hours of various comedy routines isn't exactly a movie, I guess I could call it a show.  I have to admit, it was really pretty good.  I'm not typically a fan of stand-up comedy, because of the angry f-bombs flying around every other word.  Not my thing.  I don't find it funny.  Really not at all.  But this was actual clean comedy.  And guess, what?  It was funny!

All in all, a fab night for Dinner & a Movie.

Now on to the next meal... I know our days are off here, but I'm going out on a limb with this week's dinner.  I have to bring dinner to a friend's on Sunday night (can you see where this is going?)  I will bring the meal chosen this week on Sunday night.  Granted, these "friends" are only Karen & Nathan.  NOT that Karen & Nathan are any less of friends, however I know the chances are good that they will not end our friendship over a bad meal (what are the odds of another "nut roll" situation?).    Of course, Karen is a picky eater, so she might end up eating cereal, but I shall bring this dinner, regardless.

This weeks cookbook:

 
Leave a comment with a page between 1 & 566.  The movie category is Documentary (just movin' right down the category list).  Choose a number between 1 & 10 for the movie.  You have until tomorrow (Friday) night to comment.  I'll let you know on Saturday what the adventurous (let's hope not too adventurous!) plan is!

And meanwhile, I'm going to try not to whine too much about my [lack of] counter space.  I'm fairly certain that although I may champion a kitchen remodel during our 2011 Spousal Budget Negotiations this weekend, it will not end up on our final plan.  Just guessing.

Random Tidbits on ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier

I bet you have been wondering what ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier has been up to lately.  Yes, I'm sure it's just been at the top of your mind, my dog.  Therefore, I thought I'd give you just a miniature update.  Get it?  Miniature, just like Zeke (hey, it's Tuesday night, can't do much better on a Tuesday).

Last week RDub and I just came home from work and ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier was dancing around at the door, as is his normal behavior at 5p. I affixed his "Attempt to Leave the Yard and You Will Get Zapped" collar, and let him out.

RW: "You did let him out this morning before work, didn't you?"

ME: [confused] "No, why would I?  That's your job in the morning."

RW: "Well, I thought you didn't work today."

ME: "Uhh, yes, I worked, why?"

RW: "Hmm. I didn't think you worked, so I didn't let the dog out."

ME: "YOU DIDN'T LET THE DOG OUT THIS MORNING?"

RW: [looking slightly sheepish] "No... like I said, I didn't think you worked."

ME: "What does that have to do with anything? You ALWAYS let the dog out in the morning."

RW: "Not this morning."

Yes, it's true. We are officially the worst dog owners in history.  Poor ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier went out at 8:30p the night before, and not again until 5p the next day.  Gotta feel just a little bad about that.

On a more disgusting note (this one tops the scales, so if you are 1) squeamish or 2) about to eat dinner or 3) just ate dinner, take note. You may not wish to read on), we were at Karen & Nathan's on Wednesday night, which is the weekly routine.

Keira, their 2-yr-old, was running about naked (see previous post) in the living room, where we were watching Survivor.  I glanced at her, and then gave a start (as they say).  Something ...greenish.. was departing her little butt cheeks.

ME: "KAREN - she has to GO.  NOW!" [little Keira is potty-training]

Karen rushed her into the bathroom: "Hurry, Keira!  Come on - hurry up!! Go to the potty!"

A few minutes later Karen emerged from her parental duties.

Karen: "Just so you know... Keira didn't quite make it to the bathroom, and your DOG ate it up."

[puke. gag. heave.]

Karen: [standing, with paper towels in hand] "Yes. Yes he did.  He ate it.  Made my job easier, anyway."

[puke. gag. heave.]

I. have. no. words. to excuse that behavior from ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier.  And as we were leaving, Keira was one again roaming about naked, previous issue... disposed of.  And where was ZekeTheFreakRatTerrier?  Roaming about just behind her, trying to lick up those little butt cheeks.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

puke. gag. heave.