Scalding.

Here's the weird thing: I'm one of those people that likes my hot food items to be really hot. Like, really, really hot. I am also a painfully slow eater/drinker (with the exception of pizza and vodka/beer/wine/did I mention vodka?) so I can literally re-heat the same cup of coffee a dozen times, just to keep it at optimal hotness.

No doubt this has something to do with the fact that I often tend toward excessiveness in my life. I'm the "whole nine yards" kinda gal...get your minds out of the gutter!...Like that time when I was in the first grade and learned how to make little people of egg shells and construction paper (thanks Hilights magazine!)...most kids would have made a happy family of say, four. Mommy, Daddy, baby boy egg, baby girl egg. Nay! Not me! I wasn't satisfied until I created an entire village of egg people characters, successfuly wasting a carton of 18 eggs. My mother was not amused.

Anyway. This morning I steamed some vanilla soy milk, threw in a bag of Bombay Chai tea, and finished it off with honey to make basically the greatest beverage ever. Unfortunately, I steamed the milk something outrageous...after minutes of staring at the cup just sitting on my desk, I couldn't take it anymore. The billowy clouds of heat puffing up weren't enough to deter me. Of course, I had a brief moment where I considered the consequence of sipping too soon and saw in my mind's eye my facial expression as I burned every taste bud off my tongue. For some reason, this didn't stop me....

Yes, it was scalding.

No, I will not be tasting anything for the next three days.

...worth it!

Uphill battle.

On Saturday, I worked on my yard for the first time. Ever. Yes, I closed on my house March 1st and have been inhabiting said house for about 90 days...we've had quite a bit of rain, so you can guess that things are, well, growing.


A truly unfortunate fact about my darling house is that the landscaping is heinous in every way. Truly, an offense to the eyes. I mean, it is absolutely the most random configuration of hideous plant-y things I've ever seen. Naturally, a fact that is magnified by my neighbor's pristine, flawlessly manicured lawn with newly up-lit trees. Bastards.


Allow me to set the scene: imagine a cute little house sitting atop a steeply sloping lawn. Now, imagine that lawn covered in the following: some cactus, a rosemary bush, two rose bushes (placed nowhere near each other), a couple crepe myrtles (sure why not?), some yuccas, a very tall branchless tree, some other unknown bushes. Oh, and don't forget the cutesy rusted wagon wheel, hanging from a dead tree stump. Because that gem'll save the yard! Idiots.


Anyway, here's what I've learned about yard work:

• It's crap. Don't do it ever. Honestly, I now envy those people who just loooooooove to work in their yards on the weekend. With their perfectly calloused hands and awesome wide-brimmed hats. You wanna know what I positively loooooove about working in my yard? Paying someone else to do it so I can lay by the pool and have a drink.
• Apparently, you're supposed to regularly keep up with yard work so that it's not such a beat down. I didn't get the memo....lesson learned.
• There will come a moment -somewhere into hour two- in which you realize you've created a bigger, uglier mess than which you started. It's like that moment when you decide to completely re-organize your closet, only to find yourself sitting in a pile of Jordache acid wash jeans and novelty socks, overwhelmed to the point of nervous breakdown.
• Speaking of which, I chopped all this shit without having any plan for cleanup...again, lesson learned.
• Ok, ok. Truth be told, there is something fantastically cathartic about taking a 14" pair of steel sheers and hacking away.

All in all, I accomplished a bit of good. But only a bit. There is definitely some sort of killer weed destroying everything in it's path; no lie: it started growing up my front windows. Quite literally overtaking the house...and I tell you, this thing has roots. The more I pulled, the more came up...it had literally grafted itself onto just about everything, in an effort to choke out all traces of life. In a flash of dread, I realized the whole thing felt very Hitchcock. Very, very Hitchcock.


Things are "cleaned up" now, although I use the term loosely. Frankly, the bushes (shrubberies? what's the diff?) are reminiscent of this haircut I got in the 8th grade...I wanted something very cool, very short, very Claire Danes (at the moment). I ended up with a sort of mutated mushroom look. I learned later that my hairstylist was fired for being a meth addicted speed freak, with a real penchant for inhaling mountains of coke.


Go figure.

Cheese?

If you know me, you know I love cheese. Plain and simple. I almost congratulated myself this morning for having gone four days without cheese, until I realized I made baked feta for dinner last night. Meh.

So this being Texas, what more popular cheese dish than queso? On Friday, had some gal pals (yes, I channeled my mother just then) over for dinner at the house. With our sweet potato enchiladas and guacamole, we just had to have queso. Which means Velveeta entered my house. Shameful, I know...but it melts so well!

Here's the scary thing: ever try to find Velveeta in your neighborhood grocery store? Yeah, good luck with that. I spent no less than 18 minutes prowling the aisles in search of that yellow box. Because really, where do you look for the stuff? It's not really cheese, so it's not in the dairy aisle. Canned vegetables? Pasta? Condiments? Just what the hell IS it?

Think about it: anything that says "Pastuerized Cheese Food Product" on the box is not your friend. You should never EVER have to specify on the label that a product is indeed food.

Finally, in total exasperation I found an employee and inquired about my precious Velveeta. Apparently, it's housed on an end cap. All by itself. At the end of the toy aisle. Yes: TOY AISLE.

Yup. Behold a "food product" so unclassifiable, so inexplicable it stands alone, save the Limited Edition Malibu Barbie.

Bon appetit!

Fact.

Oh yes, it's that time again! First, shout out to my mom for expelling me from her uterus this day 25 years ago...you're the best.

So, as I begin a new year, a little update on my list of lessons learned:

13) This one is an addition from mom, after the 2008 list: Children grow up, enjoy them when they are young. Enjoy them when they are grown as they will become truly amazing adults. Each comes with special blessings and joys.

14) Not my original thought, but a friend shared this with me and it stuck:

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith." The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?" The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

15) There is no such thing as too much fresh cilantro. Ever.

16) Mai pen rai. <--- Google it. Live it.

17) Let's just all go ahead and agree that Ke$ha must be stopped.

18) Surrender to the waves <---Think about it.

19) All-you-can-eat buffets should have a Pepto Bismol dispenser on the soda fountain. Because let's be real: they might as well rename them All-you-can-shit-your-pants-at-3-in-the-morning buffets.

20) Austinites will never manage to drive in adverse weather conditions. The sight of rain is literally so shocking, it stops us in our tracks...which is usually southbound I-35 or northbound MoPac.

21) Confession: sometimes at work, I type extra fast and loudly so that it appears I'm working harder than I actually am. In fact, I'm probably just furiously updating my Facebook status.

until next time....

Recap.

Yes, I've slacked off for the past week. Frankly, life has just been too much fun for blogging. Kidding! Nothing is better than this sweet, sweet piece of cyberspace right here. Anyway, here's the weekend highlights:

• Went to The Highball with my [visiting for one-night-only] brother and friends. Had a great time...pros: excellent cocktails and food, cons: too many hipsters and apparently I suck at bowling.
• Saturday farmer's market made for a lovely brunch spread. I made: mini zucchini-leek frittatas, rosemary new potatoes, Fredericksburg peaches with [made from scratch] whipped cream, and sliced up some early girl tomatoes. P.S. Kocurek Family Charcuterie makes outtathisworld Czech style bacon.
• The game Twister is much smaller than I recall...seriously, don't you remember struggling to reach right hand red? Turns out, the damn thing isn't much bigger than a postage stamp.
• Best weekend discovery? Pudding shots. Yes, you read that correctly.
• South Congress Cafe has the best bloody mary in town. Hands down.
• 80s dance parties never get old. NEVER.

Sadly, I'm now grounded until Friday...all this playing meant absolutely zero studying got finished. Which leaves me shackled to 250 painful pages of reading about Czech politics circa 1968, before class...tomorrow.