Dear readers,
Happy hump day. I spent Monday this week at the doctor undergoing a bunch of blood work- nothing says fun like being checked for migraine issues. And, of course, as it turns out I am very very anemic meaning that I do not have a lot of iron in my blood.
So, to combat this ailment, I plan to eat a whole cow tonight- just.kidding.
BUT, the good news is that this totally explains my consistent exhaustion and insomnia- anemic people tend to have terrible sleep habits and are consistently tired but unable to develop the proper sleep habits necessary to function. I cannot wait to tell my husband about that since he seems to nag me daily about my rotten morning routine of waking up at the last possible second and then skulking around the house like a variable zombie.
This may also explain my migraines- that would be awesome because I am not a fan of them at all folks, AT.ALL.
So, last night I attended my first meeting of my new book club and it was amazing. I sat around with a bunch of girls who I don’t know but who, as it turned out, I had everything in common with! Our conversations went from the book to crafts to knitting to cookies/ baking and I was in heaven. It is so nice to meet nice girls and new friends in the first place but to meet ones who want to knit a scarf and talk about books and who think the idea of having a candle making crafternoon is awesome is basically my dream come true.
The book we had been reading was The 100 Year Old Man who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared and to be honest, it was not my very favorite book. I found it boring at times and I was happy to finish it, which is a bit unusual for me- but dissecting it and discussing it and hearing what other people liked, didn’t, thought of and how it affected everyone was amazing and made me rethink parts of this book that I had otherwise overlooked in a brand new light- I guess that is why book clubs exist- to expand your knowledge and share some thoughts on what otherwise become a lost soul in your memory.
Anyways, books rule and book clubs are the Mecca of super nerdyness love.
That is all.
Xo
Jane
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
The joy* of baking (*read: Horror)
Ding dong, let the holidays begin.
Happy Friday and indeed happy I am that Friday is here- I got over stimulated last night and between that and having my husband come home late from a boys night out, this morning was a wreck. My only solace is knowing that tomorrow I can sleep in AND take a nap if my little heart desires (and it already does).
Readers, I am having a problem with domestication. I like it and I want to do it, but I suck so incredibly bad at it- a dichotomy that I cannot seem to negotiate properly in my head.
For example, in preparation for having our parents over tonight, I wanted to clean up the main floor. How it is possible that I sweep, dust, vacuum mop and the floor is still dirty, is just beyond me. It often feels like I am that Peanuts character, the one with the cloud of shit circling him and he is perpetually dirty...
Anyways, aside form my terrible cleaning skills I am also, as I have noted before, a horrible baker. Give me 5 minutes of baking and you will find flour everywhere and crappy batter in the works. Despite this, I feel like if I work at it long enough I can become a master baker (words can be funny- master baking in the privacy of my own home....haha).
With that in mind, I have been tackling cookies, one recipe at a time. I made those actually very good bacon cookies, those were followed by lemon line sugar cookies with a lemon sugar icing. The lemon cookies, as I realized last night were missing half a cup of butter which is probably why I needed to add all that water to the batter to get it to stop crumbling while I rolled it up to be refrigerated. Um, did you know that 2 sticks of butter is 1 cup- 2 effing sticks of butter- you could just puke. Some recipes call for 2 cups of butter- that is the whole box of butter in a batch of cookies- that is so butter cray.
Anywho, again, in prep for our families coming over, I thought this might be another occasion where cookies would be good but without sugar in the house I was a bit stuck on what to make- I pulled out the trusty cookbook that I usually use for anything I try and there, glaring out from the back of the book reserved for delicious desserts, I found a recipe for French style meringues (macaroons?) with a butter cream filling- no white sugar, only icing sugar required AND they were gluten free for my mother in law- b.i.n.g.o.!
For the first time since we got it for our wedding, I whipped out my mixmaster which weighs about 4 million pounds and make me instantly regret storing it in the highest shelf in my kitchen. But people, how amazing is the mixmaster? It frothed the shit out of my eggs and was a breeze to clean- I think I am in love.
Unlike the sugar cookies which turned out pretty good even when I completely effed up the recipe and omitted half the butter, meringues/macaroons are not so forgiving and far more specific in instruction which inevitably brings me to my complaint today. Recipes- what the hell? How on earth am I supposed to understand these things when they are so damn complicated (and this particular one only had 4 steps). It is like they are intended for a sweet genius but you cant become said genius without mastering these recipes which you cant read because you are not a master. Head.spinning.
Like for example, the recipe begins with beating the eggs until they are frothy. What the fuck does that mean? The eggs froth after 5 seconds- is that frothy enough? How does one understand the level of frothiness required by this stupid recipe without it being explicitly laid out? Define frothy.
And they do stuff like say “the eggs should be at room temperature”- what room? What if my room is 18 degrees? What if it is 27? Do they mean lukewarm? Should the eggs be left out to acclimate for an hour? 2? Is it ok to begin if the eggs are sort of room temp?
So as the recipe comes along the book calls for you to beat the at medium high speed eggs until you can see peaks (oh really?) which I only understand because my mom once showed me what an egg peak would look like- it says approx. 1 minute of mixing on medium high. 2 problems: the first is that there is no “medium high” setting- there are numbers and I have not a clue which one would correspond to medium high. The second is that after approx a minute, there were no peaks. It in fact took over 5 but then I got worried that I was overdoing it so I stopped before I reach satisfactory peaks! By this point I was covered in flour and stressed out.
Of the possible 36 cookies that the recipe would yield- I successfully made 8 (well, about 12 if you don’t count the ones eaten). And you know what else?
I tasted 2 cookies last night and both times the consensus was that they were terrible. I almost threw them all out- but they look so pretty.
This morning my husband, much to my surprise, ate one and loved it- so not sure if maybe he has terrible taste buds or if, after settling, the cookies actually turned out well and didn’t taste like sweet puke after all.
I am serving them tonight to find out.
Xo
Jane
Happy Friday and indeed happy I am that Friday is here- I got over stimulated last night and between that and having my husband come home late from a boys night out, this morning was a wreck. My only solace is knowing that tomorrow I can sleep in AND take a nap if my little heart desires (and it already does).
Readers, I am having a problem with domestication. I like it and I want to do it, but I suck so incredibly bad at it- a dichotomy that I cannot seem to negotiate properly in my head.
For example, in preparation for having our parents over tonight, I wanted to clean up the main floor. How it is possible that I sweep, dust, vacuum mop and the floor is still dirty, is just beyond me. It often feels like I am that Peanuts character, the one with the cloud of shit circling him and he is perpetually dirty...
Anyways, aside form my terrible cleaning skills I am also, as I have noted before, a horrible baker. Give me 5 minutes of baking and you will find flour everywhere and crappy batter in the works. Despite this, I feel like if I work at it long enough I can become a master baker (words can be funny- master baking in the privacy of my own home....haha).
With that in mind, I have been tackling cookies, one recipe at a time. I made those actually very good bacon cookies, those were followed by lemon line sugar cookies with a lemon sugar icing. The lemon cookies, as I realized last night were missing half a cup of butter which is probably why I needed to add all that water to the batter to get it to stop crumbling while I rolled it up to be refrigerated. Um, did you know that 2 sticks of butter is 1 cup- 2 effing sticks of butter- you could just puke. Some recipes call for 2 cups of butter- that is the whole box of butter in a batch of cookies- that is so butter cray.
Anywho, again, in prep for our families coming over, I thought this might be another occasion where cookies would be good but without sugar in the house I was a bit stuck on what to make- I pulled out the trusty cookbook that I usually use for anything I try and there, glaring out from the back of the book reserved for delicious desserts, I found a recipe for French style meringues (macaroons?) with a butter cream filling- no white sugar, only icing sugar required AND they were gluten free for my mother in law- b.i.n.g.o.!
For the first time since we got it for our wedding, I whipped out my mixmaster which weighs about 4 million pounds and make me instantly regret storing it in the highest shelf in my kitchen. But people, how amazing is the mixmaster? It frothed the shit out of my eggs and was a breeze to clean- I think I am in love.
Unlike the sugar cookies which turned out pretty good even when I completely effed up the recipe and omitted half the butter, meringues/macaroons are not so forgiving and far more specific in instruction which inevitably brings me to my complaint today. Recipes- what the hell? How on earth am I supposed to understand these things when they are so damn complicated (and this particular one only had 4 steps). It is like they are intended for a sweet genius but you cant become said genius without mastering these recipes which you cant read because you are not a master. Head.spinning.
Like for example, the recipe begins with beating the eggs until they are frothy. What the fuck does that mean? The eggs froth after 5 seconds- is that frothy enough? How does one understand the level of frothiness required by this stupid recipe without it being explicitly laid out? Define frothy.
And they do stuff like say “the eggs should be at room temperature”- what room? What if my room is 18 degrees? What if it is 27? Do they mean lukewarm? Should the eggs be left out to acclimate for an hour? 2? Is it ok to begin if the eggs are sort of room temp?
So as the recipe comes along the book calls for you to beat the at medium high speed eggs until you can see peaks (oh really?) which I only understand because my mom once showed me what an egg peak would look like- it says approx. 1 minute of mixing on medium high. 2 problems: the first is that there is no “medium high” setting- there are numbers and I have not a clue which one would correspond to medium high. The second is that after approx a minute, there were no peaks. It in fact took over 5 but then I got worried that I was overdoing it so I stopped before I reach satisfactory peaks! By this point I was covered in flour and stressed out.
Of the possible 36 cookies that the recipe would yield- I successfully made 8 (well, about 12 if you don’t count the ones eaten). And you know what else?
I tasted 2 cookies last night and both times the consensus was that they were terrible. I almost threw them all out- but they look so pretty.
This morning my husband, much to my surprise, ate one and loved it- so not sure if maybe he has terrible taste buds or if, after settling, the cookies actually turned out well and didn’t taste like sweet puke after all.
I am serving them tonight to find out.
Xo
Jane
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Bad ass bikers, they can be friends too
I finally made it to the subway unscathed and early. Less a hanging bloodied floral garment on the railing going down to the platform, the trip over was uneventful- my hubs kindly gave me a ride and we listened to Tom Petty for the 8 minute car time- I heart Tom Petty a lot. When we got engaged on a road trip through Vermont en route to Martha’s Vineyard, we listened to that CD a lot. That and REM’s greatest hits. Both CD’s will forever make me want to get engaged, drink tequila and eat oysters seaside.
I digress.
So there is this man who I have now seen a few times on the rocket- because when you take it every single day, you begin to recognize faces that, like you, are commuting same bat time, same bat channel.
and this man is particularly easy to spot because he is about 6 foot 5 with a long beard and look, to be blunt, like the head honcho of a bad ass biker gang. He always wears sunglasses on the subway- which, to be honest, I do also but on him they seem menacing whilst on me I doubt anyone is worried about me following them outside and killing them with one foul swing to the head.
So like everyday, at St. George station, half of the subway empties out and seats become readily available to those of us who have been made to stand for the prior bunch of stops. I find that I don’t mind to stand in the mornings- sometimes sitting makes me so damn tired and although I never have, I would not put it past me to just fall asleep in the subway and end up somewhere far East of work. But by the time we got to St. George, narcoleptic tendencies or not, I was ready to sit.
Anyways, the car empties but for once there are not so many readily available seats and there is me, the scary biker dude and an elderly woman all hovering around the one empty available seat. I was scared.
The elderly lady spoke first and said that she didn’t want to sit as she sits all day in her job and likes the time to stretch her legs and the hulk of a man turns to me as I am gesturing for him to sit down- we have a good 30 second non verbal gesture war until he finally laughs and smiles at me “We are so Canadian eh?”.
Listen, I am not saying that this man isn't scary in real life, he very well might be- but just as scary as I could potentially be in my salt stained uggs and skirt and I am always amazed how fast I jump to judge people based on appearance and how sometimes I am taken by such surprise at how actually wonderful they can be.
So hey, biker dude who offered me a seat this morning and who offered an old lady a seat this morning on the subway- thank you- always good to take off my dark sunglasses and see the world through rose colored lenses yet again.
I digress.
So there is this man who I have now seen a few times on the rocket- because when you take it every single day, you begin to recognize faces that, like you, are commuting same bat time, same bat channel.
and this man is particularly easy to spot because he is about 6 foot 5 with a long beard and look, to be blunt, like the head honcho of a bad ass biker gang. He always wears sunglasses on the subway- which, to be honest, I do also but on him they seem menacing whilst on me I doubt anyone is worried about me following them outside and killing them with one foul swing to the head.
So like everyday, at St. George station, half of the subway empties out and seats become readily available to those of us who have been made to stand for the prior bunch of stops. I find that I don’t mind to stand in the mornings- sometimes sitting makes me so damn tired and although I never have, I would not put it past me to just fall asleep in the subway and end up somewhere far East of work. But by the time we got to St. George, narcoleptic tendencies or not, I was ready to sit.
Anyways, the car empties but for once there are not so many readily available seats and there is me, the scary biker dude and an elderly woman all hovering around the one empty available seat. I was scared.
The elderly lady spoke first and said that she didn’t want to sit as she sits all day in her job and likes the time to stretch her legs and the hulk of a man turns to me as I am gesturing for him to sit down- we have a good 30 second non verbal gesture war until he finally laughs and smiles at me “We are so Canadian eh?”.
Listen, I am not saying that this man isn't scary in real life, he very well might be- but just as scary as I could potentially be in my salt stained uggs and skirt and I am always amazed how fast I jump to judge people based on appearance and how sometimes I am taken by such surprise at how actually wonderful they can be.
So hey, biker dude who offered me a seat this morning and who offered an old lady a seat this morning on the subway- thank you- always good to take off my dark sunglasses and see the world through rose colored lenses yet again.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
December is here.
With a mere 27 days until the new year I am buzzing with the vibes of 2013 to come. I am a follower of horoscopes which, I agree are totally wonk, but like ghosts, just in case they are real, I feel like it is worth being semi-open to.
And I am not talking about that crap they publish daily in the newspapers that tell you the same thing every day- I follow Susan Miller, Astrologist extraordinaire and honestly, she is good. Again, it is hard to say I truly believe in this kind of crap, but all I can tell you is that the month that my husband proposed to me, she predicted it (notwithstanding that she has never predicted anything else right ever).
So every first of the month, I eagerly scour the internet, bypassing ads for losing belly fat and gaining sex confidence with Viagra and get to the Aries page for the month’s predictions. True or false, I am never disappointed by the lengthy breakdown of my weeks and how they correspond to the cycles of the sun moon and good ol’ Jupiter. Are we in retrograde? Sometimes. And the planets are always colliding, obviously so life is just full of predicted adventures no matter the month or the year.
So December is likely to be no exception as coming up we have a family vacation and New Years to look forward to amid office parties, holiday parties, birthday parties and all that go with them. And (fingers crossed) minus taking my car in only to discover that EVERYTHING is wrong with it and it needed extensive repairs (aka. Bye bye to all my money), so far, it is great.
So last week marked official December/ Christmas time for me with the One of a Kind show. And dang do I love a good crafty convention. Hundreds of people in a room showcasing and admiring hand made goods is a little slice of plantain heaven so no wonder I made it there twice last week.
If you have not had the distinct pleasure of attending, let me fill you in on what you are missing with my Top 5 best and worst places to visit in the show.
Top 5 Best:
1. That mother-f-ing Cranberry pudding with warm vanilla butter sauce booth. This is, hands down, the wickedest bread pudding cake in the world and the fact that they fill a cup with it and liberally pour the butter sauce over it allowing you to guzzle pure, wonderful fat as you digest your pudding cup is just about the most delicious thing of ever. And that the pudding itself is vegan? Well that totally compensates for the butter overload right?
2. Tickleberrys booth. I swear, not ever booth I love is food, but these little chocolates are so damn good I would be remiss not to include them. The coat dried fruit in pure chocolate and then you buy little bags of them and shovel them into your face. But while the chocolate is their star, my personal favorite thing ever is their dried apple cubes which have been coated in cinnamon, look sort of like potpourri and taste like sex in apple form.
3. Olive booth. Not food again! No, this is a company that makes the best Olive Oil soaps, detergents, room sprays, bath salts and all that other crap that I freak out for. The Spa Blend, Lavender and ginger lemongrass are all totes amazeballs and they have baby and men stuff too. If they had patchouli blends, I would move in.
4. The booth where I bought my pillows. Crap. I wish I could remember the name of this one- she makes such awesome pillows. The designer, who hails from BC makes the décor items of my wet dreams and combining plaid, bay blankets and antlers creates a truly “canadiana” accent piece that I love and bought 2 of and would have liked to have bought 3 more except my husband- who, in the line of crafts is far more rational than I - forbid it.
5. The kid costume booth. Don’t care that I am 30, I will never be too old to play at this booth. Much to my mother’s horror each year I run like a maniac towards the glittery tiaras, tutus, hairbands and wands all over this booth. When I have a child and if it is a girl, she will only go out in Disney princess costumes always. I will dress up too but I will tell everyone that she made me do it (but I will be the one forcing extra glitter and more layers of ruffles).
Frankly, most booths are awesome- the new, the old, the uber crafty and the crap- there is so much talent in one room it is staggering. And of course, there is something for everyone- like, actually. If you cant find something you like, you are weird
But then there are the ones...
The Top 5 Worst (I hesitate to say worst because I admire anyone who takes up and succeeds with a craft- but I for real cannot imagine how these people stay in business)
1. Spider jewellery lady. Seriously, this lady is nuts and has been a part of the show for as long as I have been going which is at least 10 years now. She crafts jewellery and it will, for example, be an earring that then wraps around your ear, creeps over your shoulder, circles your whole head and winds up on the opposite shoulder as a spider. WHO is wearing this stuff? And there are always people in her booth trying stuff on- WHO ARE YOU!!!???? I can barely walk by her without bursting into hysterics at her totally weird creations- how can anyone take a woman with a gold spider on her shoulder seriously?
2. The wooden spoon instrument man. Remember when you were a kid and you would put 2 spoons together and beat them on your knee to make a sound (or maybe you don’t because you probably were not raised as a redneck, but in case you were). So there is a booth where that is all they sell. Wood spoons to make noise with. Really? Is there a huge market for that good ol’ spoon music??? No? That’s what I thought.
3. The Better than sex chocolate booth. Their tagline “better than sex”. Um, have these people ever had sex? And their chocolate sucks.
4. ANY booth that makes you ask them for samples or crackers to get samples with. Great, I am a fucking pig- thank you for making me tell you and no, I don’t want to try your dill dip (yes I do).
5. The “you will never get laid” pajamas booth. Pretty sure if you are wearing PJs to bed in the first place, they don’t really need to cover your neck to your toes. There is nothing crafty about these hideous PJs except how to get people to actually buy them.
Honestly, if you go for the spectacle alone, you wont be disappointed.
So now we wait, patiently for the lesser fun spring show.
But it is official folks, the holidays are upon us so time to whip out whatever lights you prefer, get your family and friends together and make some merriment (especially if you are the victim of the pajama booth this year- you really need some merriment).
XO,
Jane
And I am not talking about that crap they publish daily in the newspapers that tell you the same thing every day- I follow Susan Miller, Astrologist extraordinaire and honestly, she is good. Again, it is hard to say I truly believe in this kind of crap, but all I can tell you is that the month that my husband proposed to me, she predicted it (notwithstanding that she has never predicted anything else right ever).
So every first of the month, I eagerly scour the internet, bypassing ads for losing belly fat and gaining sex confidence with Viagra and get to the Aries page for the month’s predictions. True or false, I am never disappointed by the lengthy breakdown of my weeks and how they correspond to the cycles of the sun moon and good ol’ Jupiter. Are we in retrograde? Sometimes. And the planets are always colliding, obviously so life is just full of predicted adventures no matter the month or the year.
So December is likely to be no exception as coming up we have a family vacation and New Years to look forward to amid office parties, holiday parties, birthday parties and all that go with them. And (fingers crossed) minus taking my car in only to discover that EVERYTHING is wrong with it and it needed extensive repairs (aka. Bye bye to all my money), so far, it is great.
So last week marked official December/ Christmas time for me with the One of a Kind show. And dang do I love a good crafty convention. Hundreds of people in a room showcasing and admiring hand made goods is a little slice of plantain heaven so no wonder I made it there twice last week.
If you have not had the distinct pleasure of attending, let me fill you in on what you are missing with my Top 5 best and worst places to visit in the show.
Top 5 Best:
1. That mother-f-ing Cranberry pudding with warm vanilla butter sauce booth. This is, hands down, the wickedest bread pudding cake in the world and the fact that they fill a cup with it and liberally pour the butter sauce over it allowing you to guzzle pure, wonderful fat as you digest your pudding cup is just about the most delicious thing of ever. And that the pudding itself is vegan? Well that totally compensates for the butter overload right?
2. Tickleberrys booth. I swear, not ever booth I love is food, but these little chocolates are so damn good I would be remiss not to include them. The coat dried fruit in pure chocolate and then you buy little bags of them and shovel them into your face. But while the chocolate is their star, my personal favorite thing ever is their dried apple cubes which have been coated in cinnamon, look sort of like potpourri and taste like sex in apple form.
3. Olive booth. Not food again! No, this is a company that makes the best Olive Oil soaps, detergents, room sprays, bath salts and all that other crap that I freak out for. The Spa Blend, Lavender and ginger lemongrass are all totes amazeballs and they have baby and men stuff too. If they had patchouli blends, I would move in.
4. The booth where I bought my pillows. Crap. I wish I could remember the name of this one- she makes such awesome pillows. The designer, who hails from BC makes the décor items of my wet dreams and combining plaid, bay blankets and antlers creates a truly “canadiana” accent piece that I love and bought 2 of and would have liked to have bought 3 more except my husband- who, in the line of crafts is far more rational than I - forbid it.
5. The kid costume booth. Don’t care that I am 30, I will never be too old to play at this booth. Much to my mother’s horror each year I run like a maniac towards the glittery tiaras, tutus, hairbands and wands all over this booth. When I have a child and if it is a girl, she will only go out in Disney princess costumes always. I will dress up too but I will tell everyone that she made me do it (but I will be the one forcing extra glitter and more layers of ruffles).
Frankly, most booths are awesome- the new, the old, the uber crafty and the crap- there is so much talent in one room it is staggering. And of course, there is something for everyone- like, actually. If you cant find something you like, you are weird
But then there are the ones...
The Top 5 Worst (I hesitate to say worst because I admire anyone who takes up and succeeds with a craft- but I for real cannot imagine how these people stay in business)
1. Spider jewellery lady. Seriously, this lady is nuts and has been a part of the show for as long as I have been going which is at least 10 years now. She crafts jewellery and it will, for example, be an earring that then wraps around your ear, creeps over your shoulder, circles your whole head and winds up on the opposite shoulder as a spider. WHO is wearing this stuff? And there are always people in her booth trying stuff on- WHO ARE YOU!!!???? I can barely walk by her without bursting into hysterics at her totally weird creations- how can anyone take a woman with a gold spider on her shoulder seriously?
2. The wooden spoon instrument man. Remember when you were a kid and you would put 2 spoons together and beat them on your knee to make a sound (or maybe you don’t because you probably were not raised as a redneck, but in case you were). So there is a booth where that is all they sell. Wood spoons to make noise with. Really? Is there a huge market for that good ol’ spoon music??? No? That’s what I thought.
3. The Better than sex chocolate booth. Their tagline “better than sex”. Um, have these people ever had sex? And their chocolate sucks.
4. ANY booth that makes you ask them for samples or crackers to get samples with. Great, I am a fucking pig- thank you for making me tell you and no, I don’t want to try your dill dip (yes I do).
5. The “you will never get laid” pajamas booth. Pretty sure if you are wearing PJs to bed in the first place, they don’t really need to cover your neck to your toes. There is nothing crafty about these hideous PJs except how to get people to actually buy them.
Honestly, if you go for the spectacle alone, you wont be disappointed.
So now we wait, patiently for the lesser fun spring show.
But it is official folks, the holidays are upon us so time to whip out whatever lights you prefer, get your family and friends together and make some merriment (especially if you are the victim of the pajama booth this year- you really need some merriment).
XO,
Jane
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