Weblog

Thursday, 07 August 2008

  • A quick life update.  This will be neither be cheeky nor amusing, considering my boss's boss's boss's boss is traipsing around looking important but it occurred to me too write on here.  Here goes...

    1. I have a boyfriend.
    2. I have a job.
    3. I'm getting ready to buy a car.
    4. I'm getting ready to buy a cell phone.
    5. Cody is pretty much amazing.

    The following five points deserve a little bit of explanation considering they're all (excepting #4) are significant.

    1. My boyfriend's name is Shaun.  I met him at Manhattan Convention, and we quickly clicked.  He's a Montana boy, but he's working in Washington for the rest of the summer.  He's coming back to MSU for his Master's of industrial engineering in the fall so he'll be fairly close by.  He came to visit me almost two weeks ago and its been 'official' since then.  He's basically great and I'm quite happy so far!

    2. I work at a bank in Cody, with one of the girls I go to church with, Laurissa.  We have a blast, along with everyone else.  Its great fun and it feels quite nice to be gainfully employed after one month and three days of unemployment which got real boring after conventions were done.

    3. My Mazda has about lived its life.  For one thing, I'm finally financially ready for the car I've been desperately wanting for months.  For another thing, I am sick of that car.  So I'm looking like a madwoman at the two cars near and dear to my heart: a Pontiac G6 (there's a beautiful black one at one of the dealerships in town.  I. Love. It.) or a VW Jetta. 

    4. My old cell phone broke.  One of the hinges on the flip broke, leaving my cell phone crippled and flopping closed at its own discretion rather than mine.  I reactivated my old one, and quickly remembered why I had gotten a new one in the first place.  I'm going for an LG Shine.  Because they're pretty sweet.

    5. My new hometown is beautiful and full of my favorite people (except for my family, boyfriend, and Erin.)  I love it here, and even though I'm quite missing my Laramie people I love my new home.  The house is in the process of being painted all sorts of beautiful colors and decorated in all sorts of beautiful ways, as would stand to reason when you combine Courtney's and my sense of style.

    Okay, there it is, my life update.  Yay.

Friday, 27 June 2008

  • Farm girls fit the following:
    • Aren't afraid of snakes.
    • Can walk on gravel in bare feet.
    • Understand what it means when someone says 'Your barley is starting to top out.'
    • Don't shriek when a bird flies up right in front of them.
    • Change into the left lane to turn into the drive.
    • Know the names of different types of tractors.
    • Make lists before they go into town.
    • Don't forget their lists when they go into town.
    • Buy everything in town in one trip.
    City girls fit the following:
    • Are afraid of snakes.  And run like crazy women when someone chases them with one.
    • Can't walk on gravel in bare feet.  Tries it and whine the entire time.
    • Have no clue what it means when someone says 'Your barley is starting to top out.' Don't really even know what barley looks like.
    • Shrieks and nearly wets self when bird flies up right in front of them.
    • Calls tractors 'tractors'.  Knows that the green ones are John Deere.  Right?
    • Makes incomplete list before going into town.
    • Forgets incomplete list when leaving for town.
    • Buys only part of items on incomplete list in town.
    Can you guess which profile I fit?  However, learning to live in the country is far better than living in town any day.

    Country life is awesome because:
    • There's no sounds.  Except farm trucks and birds and crickets and frogs.
    • The air smells good.
    • I have a yard.
    • I have a view.
    • The nearest neighbors are a mile away. 
    • No one can see into my windows just by looking out theirs.
    • Its dark at night.
    • We have a pond.
    • And a creek.
    • And a river.
    • And trees.
    • I can say 'I'm going into town.'  It just sounds cooler than 'I'm running to Albertson's'
    I love my new life.  Now, if I can just find a job...

  • The new look?  Yes?  No?

Thursday, 29 May 2008

  • I cook.  Its my thing.  My signature is Miracle Pasta.  This dish was dubbed as such by Erin, who had it and deemed it miraculous.  I'm not one for confrontation, and I rather enjoy being miraculous.  Especially if its through my food.

    Miracle Pasta was actually an accident.  I had chicken, and I had penne pasta, but no alfredo sauce, and no way to make the real stuff.  So, I sauteed the chicken in butter and thought, okay, how would one proceed to make a sauce from this?  I tossed in some garlic and onion seasoning, because a) I didn't have the real thing and b) I hate onions.  I basically coated the chicken in it because hey, its a sauce, and there's gonna be a lot more ingredients that need the flavor.  Well, the next logical step was lemon juice because real alfredo is made with white wine and I didn't have any and still needed that acidity and flavor.  But alfredo is a cream sauce and I didn't have any cream.  I did have milk, though, and splashed some in there.  Now, what would you combine with milk to make it creamy?  Sour cream, of course, so I added a couple of dollops.  Then, I salted and peppered it...with a little salt and a LOT of pepper...and added grated parmesan cheese to thicken it further and because grated parmesan is pretty much amazing.  I used this to top my pasta and nearly died from culinary joy, as have many who have had it since.  Thus, the Miracle Pasta name.

    I surpassed Miracle Pasta tonight.  I have reached culinary Mecca, so I call it Mecca Chicken.  Culinary accidents seem to be my specialty, because tonight, I didn't have any pasta for Miracle Pasta and I had chicken I needed to use.  I sliced it so it'd cook faster, and was about to cook it, except I realized that I wanted to marinate it.  Well, the first logical step is lemon juice because lemon juice and chicken...its like...peas and carrots...or peanut butter and jelly...or...well, you get the idea.  Next, I threw in some minced garlic for kicks.  Plus, if you don't cook with garlic can you even call yourself a cook?  Then, I started looking through my spice cupboard.  I grabbed some basil...you know...lemon...basil...peas...carrots...peanut butter...jelly...and some thyme, just because I loooove thyme like wow.  And, what the hey, some dill.  Of course, you're gonna need salt in there, and olive oil.  I put all this in a bag, and put the chicken in there.  Then, I tenderized it.  With a can of spaghetti sauce (which I'll never use but for tenderizing because I make my own that rocks a million times more).  Yep, that's how cool I am, no rolling pin or mallet, just a can of spaghetti sauce.  I let that sit for thirty minutes and threw it on to cook. 

    While it was cooking, I had a flash of genius.  Usually, you'd use the marinade to continue basting the meat as it cooks.  But I thought...hey, maybe I should make this into a sauce!  I put it in a nonstick frying pan, put in an ounce of cream cheese, a splash of milk, and some grated parmesan, and some more salt.  When it was done, and the chicken was done, I poured the sauce over the chicken. 

    And then I knew.  If the pasta was miraculous, this was culinary Mecca.  Thus...

    Mecca Chicken.  Try it and die happy.  Or at least go to sleep happy.  If you're not lactose intolerant...or prone to heartburn.  Whatever.  Its good.

Monday, 19 May 2008

  • The Move. Phase Uno.

    The problem with any move isn't so much choosing the location, or finding the job, or even (for me) finding the residence...the difficulty lies in transporting junk.  Phase Uno of my move is a long, woeful tale of junk.  Okay, not all that long.  Probably not all that woeful, either.  But it is a tale of junk. 

    The tale begins two and a half years ago, with my first move.  This was a rather drastic move for me...I was moving out of my parents' house, striking out on my own for the first time.  My little car was full of my stuff, which included a three-drawer nightstand, clothes, a microwave, and the all-important coffee pot.  I moved into a basement apartment which I shared with two other girls who had already been living there.  It was furnished, the kitchen was stocked...I didn't need any more than I had, and for the six months that I lived there, I bought a few things here and there but didn't really acquire anything.

    Move #2: Across town.  The time came to move from the basement into a real house.  It was a beautiful little place that I still love to this day.  Thing is, I still didn't really have anything.  It took me maybe three trips in my car to get my stuff and new odds and ends over to the new place.  I was again going to be living with someone, but we didn't have a kitchen table.  Or beds.  Or couches.  Or...anything.  So, we bought them.  The couches we inherited, and they're going to be passed along to continue their legacy as Laramie College Couches.  The rest of the stuff, though, falls under the category of Emily's Stuff That She Now Needs To Move Across The State.  Or, more commonly known as ESTSNNTMATS.

    Move #3: Across town.  Again.  Again, living with someone.  She, however, didn't have anything, and I did.  So, ESTSNNTMATS fit right in to the apartment without any trouble.  The difference was...it took three trucks to move my big stuff and three trips to move my clothes and odds and ends over. 

    Are you seeing the problem here?  If not, let me spell it out.  Actually, you see the problem, I just like making sarcastic remarks, which is why I'm spelling it out.  ESTSNNTMATS is either going to have to grow wings to get to their new home (Across The State), or I'm going to have to get rid of some junk.

    So far, most of my big things have been adopted by people who I'm sure will love them and care for them.  However, the fact remains that I have two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen full of stuff.  And I have to get it Across The State. 

    Now, please, let me clarify what junk is exactly.  Junk is not ceramic angels.  Junk is not glass elephants.  Junk is not decorative stones.  Junk is cast iron skillets.  (Which I am not...repeat...not parting with)  Junk is dinner plates.  Junk is bathroom towels.  Good grief, Charlie Brown.  In one sense, its a consolation that my junk isn't actual junk, just stuff that you need to, you know, live.  In another sense, though...

    how...

    did...

    I...

    get...

    this...

    much...

    junk?

EatAPeach4Peace

  • Visit EatAPeach4Peace's Xanga Site
    • Name: Emily
    • Country: United States
    • State: Wyoming
    • Birthday: 2/10/1987
    • Gender: Female
    • Member Since: 1/22/2004