February 16, 2015 by gn0mel0ver

The Talent Show

My mind has been thinking about Whitney Houston and her daughter all month. It reminded me of a moment in time when one of Whitney Houston’s songs taught me an important life lesson. I decided to share it here. My thoughts continue to be with her family.

When I was twelve, my friends and I got together and decided we were going to perform as a group in the school talent show. After much deliberation, it was decided that we would sing “Eternal Flame” by the Bangles. We practiced at every snack and lunch break.

Now, here is where I need to insert information about my singing voice. All of us girls were in the school choir. It was offered during lunch break on select days. This was before the time when schools actually had to give kids time to eat. The choir was run by this horrible old woman, whose name has long since escaped me. She would walk down the aisles while we were singing and pick on girls. “You,” she would screech, “you’re out!”

The girl would run away in tears never to be seen again.

She was Simon Cowell, before Simon Cowell was Simon Cowell.

One day we were practicing a song for a performance that never did take place. I truly believe she just pretended there would be a recital just to torment us. I noticed she was coming down my row. My stomach churned.

“Who is making that racket?”, she cackled.

Oh, I knew in my heart it was me. I could just tell. My heart started pounding and my hands became sweaty. So, naturally, I stopped singing and began lip syncing. I thought if I stopped, she would just keep going down the aisle. But she didn’t. She had all ready announced that someone was singing poorly. She had to save face. Or maybe she was just itching to ruin a young girl’s day.

She stopped short of me and said to the girl on my left, whose name was Lisa (name changed) and she happened to have a beautiful voice, “It was you! Get out!”.

Poor Lisa. She had thick gorgeous hair down to her waist. She was a nice girl and I have always felt guilty for not being the one kicked out of choir. Don’t feel too sorry for Lisa, though. She later went on to marry the most beautiful boy in high school.

All right, so us girls were breaking out on our own. We were going to sing a song the old woman hadn’t picked. So, we practiced for two weeks. And the day before the big talent show the principal informed us that he would not approve our song. Apparently, because the lyrics said “I watch you when you are sleeping,” it was too much of a sexual risk for the school. So, what were us girls going to do? Well, the teacher happened to have a Whitney Houston tape and thought it would be a fantastic idea for us to sing, “The Greatest Love of All.” Whitney Houston was really big at the time and being out of ideas, we all agreed.

No, wait, that is not what happened.

I agreed.

My friends, being the socially smart kids that they were, backed out. They decided it was way too risky (as in social suicide) to get in front of an auditorium of not only our peers, but EIGHTH GRADERS, and sing a song we had not practiced. Not me, though, I was in it to win it. I had committed to doing the talent show and I was going to do it. I stayed up an extra two hours that night memorizing the lyrics.

Being the ~~talented~~ girl that I am, I can still recite to you every word of that song to this day. Maybe, because I am smart, but probably because the terror ingrained itself into my head.

My mother took me shopping for a new outfit. It was so pretty. It was a kelly green striped shirt with a matching poofy kelly green skirt. I would probably wear the same outfit today, which probably does not bode well for my fashion sense.

I was ready. My hair was sprayed into a glorious fan shape on top of my head. My imitation Keds were gleaming white. All set!

I remember stepping in front of the whole school and the sound of Whitney Houston’s voice blasting out of the speakers. They had handed me a microphone, but all you could hear was Whitney. So there I was. The eighth graders were the kids closest to the front, because they got prime billing. And I could see their pores. And I could see them snickering. I just sang away and no one could hear me. Which would have gone swimmingly, had the teacher not decided it was too much Whitney Houston, and not enough Jenni. And she turned the sound down. My voice screeched across the auditorium, I could hear it ringing back to me, and it wasn’t good. And it was very loud. But I kept going. I finished the song and hurried off the stage.

I was mortified. I was angry at my friends for “making” me go up alone, but I was mostly disappointed with myself. But then something amazing happened. After the talent show, one by one, three lovely eighth grade girls came up to me. “You were so brave.”. “You did great!”. “I love your outfit.” Each kind word was music to my soul. My embarrassment became not quite as painful. I began to feel pride that I had done it. I hadn’t done it well, but I had tried.

Every now and again, I like to remind myself of that seventh grade moment. A moment when I conquered my fears and reached for something. Of course, to this day, if that song comes on the radio, I turn red and immediately change the station. But it wasn’t all bad. Most moments in life aren’t… Thank you Whitney.

February 15, 2015 by gn0mel0ver

A Valentine’s Day Monster Hunter Recap

On Friday the 13th, my husband and I set off on a quest. It had started that morning when I woke up to find my husband eagerly peering down at me from the edge of the bed.

“Do you know what today is?” He excitedly asked.

I slowly blinked my eyes. The night before we had gone to bed discussing all of the things we needed to accomplish, most prominently important was finishing the cleaning of the carpets that I had started the day before so we could get our house back together. In a too much information shared, both dogs had had two weeks of diarrhea, thankfully not at the same time, but it had made the purchase of a carpet cleaner necessary. I had spot cleaned, but I wanted to know that they were cleaner than before the last two weeks. Now that it looked like we might finally be done with the sickness, I wanted to go over the carpets thoroughly. I had finished one room, but all of my fingers had gone numb from the force with which I had gotten down on my knees and scrubbed, as only the best of us OCDs can do.

“Um, the day we’re going to finish the carpets. You are going to help me right?”

“No and yes.”

“Is it the day before Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes, but that’s not it.”

I was unsure what he expected me to say. Then I remembered the episode of “The Middle ” we had watched a few days prior. “Oh! Is it World Radio Day?”

He looked at me in exasperation. “It’s Monster Hunter Day!”

I sat straight up in bed. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? What’s the plan?”

It turned out that his plan was vague. This would not do. I quickly surmised that we would both need a new DS to play the new Monster Hunter games (a little bit of my love shown here) to the utmost of their awesomeness. They were being released that day after years of us waiting for them. Yes, I’m thirty seven. Yes, I love video games. Let me tell you one day of the year my younger sister got a Sega System for Christmas and I got boardgames. #notoverit. To be fair, my sister still loves video games, too. I think it plays to our love of fantasy. If you think you don’t like video games, but you read fantasy books, you might want to try them again. They have some games geared for folks just like us.

So, for the next hour I procured two new DS systems, and four video games (our kids play with us) at three different stores in three different cities. It was surprisingly hard. I had no idea the systems would be a hot commodity. We were lucky to get two, because I checked ten minutes later and all of the systems were sold out in Southern California.

My husband was thrilled.

Not about my awesome online shopping skills. I knew they would come in handy one day.

He was thrilled to be going to all of the different places to pick up the bounty we scored.

“It’s a scavenger hunt!”

I once made his day by requesting we hit five different grocery stores looking for frozen manicotti. He is easy to please.

We left at noon. We drove to the first stop and picked up three of the video games. On the way, I asked if we could stop at two different Costcos in the other cities because I had wanted to check out the different items they might have from our own. In truth, I was looking for more frozen manicotti. I have a problem. My husband was even more excited. Two scavenger hunts in one day?! I never needed to buy him a present again.

Two hours later, we arrived at our second stop. We picked up the last video game and our first system. From there we hit up our first Costco. We did not find any frozen manicotti. We did, however, find my children’s most favorite thing. A whole variety box of snack sized flamin’ chips. We also got some cream brûlée in little jars even though it is best made at home.

Another hour later we picked up our last system. We were high with the rush of collecting our prizes.

The last Costco was a bust, but we picked up some pizzas to have for dinner. By the time we got home, it was 6:30. We stayed up with the kids playing Monster Hunter in our bed until 1:00 in the morning. We set up our bed like those creepy grandparents in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” I ended up staying up until 3:00 trying to finish some quests.

So, the next morning when my husband woke me up, I had a new plan.

“Honey, I don’t really want to go out for dinner tonight. Would you mind if we just ordered Chinese food and stayed home to play “Monster Hunter?”

His silence scared me. I felt like I had disappointed him. He had been talking about taking me out for Valentine’s Day all week. Then his face broke out into a wide grin. “You are the best wife ever!” He proclaimed.

And that is why my house still looks like this.

And that is why I got no sleep.

And that is why yesterday was the best Valentine’s Day ever.

What did you do for Valentine’s Day? Did you dress up? Did you wear red or pink? I was going to wear the perfect pink and red outfit. It was a repeat of the outfit I wore on Christmas Eve. But instead I stayed in pajamas. And not the kind of pajamas one is supposed to wear on a romantic holiday. It didn’t matter. I killed a Great Jaggi and made a weapon with its hide. My husband declared it to be beautiful. Just kidding. He totally made it for me. He’s chivalrous that way. It was so romantic.

February 13, 2015 by gn0mel0ver

Monarch Magic Metamorphosis

First, I know this pattern resembles a Tiger Butterfly more than a Monarch. I must have been a little loopy when I first typed this up, because here I am now editing it before it goes up in a few hours and I am wondering what I was thinking with the title. Who can really say?

I have found in the last year that a swing style dress is my favorite.

The Sarita Swing Dress is beautiful. I do wish it was one inch longer but otherwise it is perfect. It is made from silk which is a rare thing to find nowadays. My grandma used to keep silk worms in her house so we could watch how they worked. She also would occasionally raise a butterfly through the stages. Green and yellow were her favorite colors. She would have loved this dress.

I paired the dress with my Simply Livly Turquoise Necklace and a wooden turquoise ring. I also wore my favorite Chie Mihara booties with it. They were one of my favorite sale scores last year. Her shoes are amazing.

I think that every girl dreams of a fantasy world. It is kind of what is thrown on us as children. Castles, princesses, animals, pink and flowers. Butterflies fall right into this.

Now, I do not know for certain that this dress is based on a butterfly. It seems obvious to me that it is. But I also frequently mix up the words, “prescription and subscription” so I am absolutely no good mental evaluator.

I looked up the name of the dress, “Sarita.” It means “flowing” in Sanskrit according to the website, behind the name. It is subtle. But, oh, the missed name opportunities this dress had.

It has the most lovely crochet lace edged lining. The dress is short, but in all of my pictures (including spinning), I did not encounter one wardrobe snafu.

It is perfect for a windy day. The sleeves flutter magnificently. I honestly felt like a butterfly in this dress. Groan. I can imagine someone quoting that and I realize how lame that sounds, but it is true.

This dress might not have the right name, but it does not matter.

It simply made me happy. When I wore it I smiled. It felt like a metamorphosis was taking place. And that is all that matters to me.

February 12, 2015 by gn0mel0ver

It’s Da Jam – Bacon Jam To Be Precise

I know.

Oh. I know.

Have you ever had bacon jam? I had had it two times in the last ten years before I decided to make my own. I just kept waiting for a restaurant near me to have it on the menu or wait to stumble upon it in a store. But it never happened. And my soul was sad from the wanting of it. It tastes like a sweet and smoky intense bacon spread. It is slap-your-own face-as-you-drool good.

So, the other day I decided to just google a recipe. It turns out that bacon jam is a snap to make. If you can manage to not eat all of the bacon before putting it into your crock pot. I do believe that is why this recipe calls for one and a half pounds of bacon. We all know bacon comes in one pound packages. So, you will need to buy two packages. Little Miss Martha Stewart (from whom this recipe is from, I just changed a few ingredients and altered a few steps) must have not been able to resist that other half a pound of bacon, either. And who can blame her?

The best part about this recipe, besides the heavenly taste, is that it is made in the crockpot. Can I hear a hallelujah? Or is your throat still sore from the delightful screams of the very idea of bacon jam? I hear ya. It is pretty darn wonderful.

Ingredients:

1 1/2 pounds of bacon
1 diced onion
1 minced clove of garlic (or 1 of those frozen packets)
2 Tbsp. of red pepper spread (Trader Joe’s carries one and most grocery stores carry a version)
1 tsp. red pepper flakes
1/2 cup organic brown sugar
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
3/4 cup brewed coffee
1 Tbsp. Brandy
1/4 cup good maple syrup

Directions:

This recipe is going to take about six hours to make. It is definitely not hard. Basically, you just need to be able to stir it every so often in the crockpot. But plan to be home during the time of its creation. You cannot leave it and go.

Line a baking sheet with foil and line the foil with one layer of bacon closely touching each other but not overlapping. Place in a cold oven. Turn oven to 375 degrees F. Bake the bacon for 20-23 minutes. You want it crunchy but not burnt. Once the bacon is done, remove to a paper towel-lined towel. Repeat until all of the bacon is cooked.

In a small skillet add three tablespoons of the bacon grease. Turn stovetop burner to medium heat. Add diced onion. Sauté for seven minutes. Add garlic. Cook an additional minute. Drain bacon fat from cooked onions and garlic. Add onions and garlic to the crockpot.

Add coffee, brown sugar, vinegar, maple syrup, brandy, and red pepper spread to the crockpot. Crumble bacon pieces into the crockpot. Add red pepper flakes. Stir.

Cover crockpot and cook mixture for two hours on high (stirring every thirty to forty five minutes).

Uncover and cook an additional two and a half hours uncovered (stirring every thirty minutes) until thick.

Turn off the crockpot. Skim any fat off of the top of the bacon jam. I just take a spoon and quickly go over it. At this point you can add the jam to your food processor to blend it or just use a handy dandy immersion blender like me. I just pulse it directly in the crockpot with my immersion blender for about a minute. Stir. If there is more grease on top, skim it off. Let jam cool. And now put it in an air tight container.

It fits perfectly in a 16 oz. container or you can put it in cute little glass jars. I reuse my pimento jars, starbucks frappucino jugs, and sundried tomato jars for such purposes. I like to quickly make a label with old scrap paper and mark it with a sharpie when I start the jam with the date on it so I know when I need to use it by. These would make great little gifts. Put the jar of jam in the refrigerator until ready to use. I use mine within two weeks stored in the refrigerator (although Martha Stewart suggests it might keep for four weeks, I worry about food safety).

This is amazing on crostini, turkey sandwiches (my favorite thing in the world, recipe below), hamburgers, as a pizza sauce, with brie on crackers, on steaks, eggs, biscuits, fingers… You name it. It is delicious on it. I just reheat a little of it in the microwave for twenty to thirty seconds when I am ready to use it.

For the turkey sandwich that I love, I heat up the amount of bacon jam I want for fifteen to thirty seconds depending upon how many sandwiches I am making. I layer bacon jam on both sides of a Chibatta roll I have cut in half. Layer a good amount of good quality turkey on the bottom part of the roll (I use shaved honey turkey from the deli). Place a scattering of sundried tomatoes that were in oil on the turkey. Lay one slice of havarti cheese on top. Close up that baby and enjoy! If your throat is still raw from the screams, bacon jam will soothe it. It is kind of miraculous stuff. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Hallelujah!

Gnome Lover

Stumbling through life while still having fun

Author: gn0mel0ver

The Talent Show

A Valentine’s Day Monster Hunter Recap

Monarch Magic Metamorphosis

It’s Da Jam – Bacon Jam To Be Precise