Pocket Aces

Sometimes I don't take pictures...

But luckily, Marc's around to save the day. Here are some shots he took of the kids and I on Memorial Day.

 

 

Those last two were taken of the kids as we were spinning them around. Hardly technically perfect, but I love them anyway.

And finally, breakfast the next morning. This is a pretty normal sight around here once the screened porch is in operation. Obviously, clothing is optional.   

From the "Things I Used To Be Able To Do" files...

Oh, the good old days.

(Circa 1986-ish)

They don't call it a day of remembrance for nuthin.

Memorial Day... the day I remember what the floor of my closet looks like. Also the day to forget about all the old clothes I am about to throw out.

I also spent the evening having dinner with family, which was great. Also, I thought it was Sunday till about 5 minutes ago.

And what did YOU do today?

And I haven't even showered yet today!

So Neil (over at the awesomely funny Citizen of the Month - remember the Great Interview Experiment?) has gone and made me his blog crush of the day. All I have to say about this is that it's been a long time since anyone's had a crush on me (at least that I knew about) and frankly, I don't even remember how I'm supposed to act about it. Nonchalant? Too cool for the whole thing? If some kind high school girl out there could text me about it and let me know, I'd be much obliged. (That means I'd be totally down with it. kthxbai!)

Anyway, I wonder if this means people might hop over here and peek around, and I'm a little distressed because the dishes aren't done, and there might be a cobweb or two up in the corner, and please GOD don't even look at my hair. I can only assume that Neil crushes on me because of my sharp wit, but that's because I don't think I've posted any pictures of my rack lately. Though, for obvious reasons, I probably should.

I'll get right on it.

Caption this photo!

In lieu of having anything interesting to say for the past 48 hours, I give to you a photo to caption. (Yes, just like they do at MamaPop. Or PW. I am a hopeless hack.)

In lieu of any type of prize, please accept the humble honor of having made me laugh.

Have at it!

Unbreak my sauce.

Don't you love Hollandaise sauce? Mmmm. I do. Over Eggs Benedict, or yumming up some asparagus? Sign me up. Or maybe just to eat by the spoonful? Well, if you insist.

So I wondered, last night as I'm getting ready to make some dinner, how it was that I loved Hollandaise, and I enjoyed cooking, and yet I'd never attempted a real Hollandaise? And hey, I bet if I made some Hollandaise to go over the asparagus I'm planning on roasting tonight, Marc might actually enjoy it instead of leaving most of it on his plate as he tends to do? So I checked the fridge - do I have all the ingredients? Egg yolks, butter, lemon juice. Check, check, and check. Then I checked my skills - do I have what it takes? Well, I've done a beautiful citrus beurre blanc, I can do a mean balsamic browned butter sauce, and I can do a vinaigrette with one hand tied behind my back. So YEAH, I've got the skills. Let's get to it, baby.

By the way, do you know just how much butter goes into Hollandaise? If you are afraid of knowing, you should avert your eyes from what's about to come.

Ack! I tried to warn you! DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE BUTTER!

Alright, so I'm a-whiskin, and adding the butter - cube by cube! - and this part was all too handsy for me to manage any decent photographs. So let me assure you that all was going well. The color was right, I wasn't curdling (and when I was afraid I was about to, I just did what my pal Nigella taught me and stirred in a little ice chip, and all was well - NOT THAT THIS IS FORESHADOWING OF MY DOOMY DOWNFALL, OR ANYTHING!) and things were thickening up nicely. Add the lemon juice, now. Ok, all is still well.

Uh oh. Is it supposed to be this thick? This feels like mayonaise. This can't be right. This isn't sauce - it will be way too gloppy! HALP! I know - another little ice chip. That will thin things out nicely. (I can hear your warning screams, you know. It's just that it's too late. I've already been a moron.)

OH NOES!

And, it's official. My sauce is broken, and so is my heart. In case the above photo isn't enough to convince you that the sauce, once thick and creamy, is ruined, then just check out what happened when I decided to pour it over the asparagus anyway:

SSSOOOOOOOBBBB.

Now I'll never get Marc to eat asparagus.

900

As of this evening, I've passed the 900 visitor mark. I realize that's not a major amount compared to the general blogosphere, but whatever. I'm confounded. I only know of maybe 3 or 4 people who read this site with any regularity. Who ARE you people?

Please indulge me this little role call. I'm dying to know who could possibly find me interesting enough to spend any time here. Leave me a comment and tell me who you are!

Pleeeeaaaase?

Testing the theory that everything tastes good if you drink enough wine.

While at Disney, Marc and I were lucky enough to get 2 (two! DOS!) nights out to ourselves to go out for a nice meal, or frankly to do whatever the hell we wanted. Have I mentioned lately that I love my parents?

Our first night out was the first night we arrived, and we felt a bit tired after a day of traveling with the kids, but we did our best to rally and drive over to Universal and Emeril's Tchoup Chop to see what yummy things we could find there.

We sat at the food bar. We love doing this. I like watching the chefs in action - figuring out which station is which, watching a guy whip a beurre blanc together in two seconds flat, seeing things come to the pass and guessing which one is ours. We're so juvenile sometimes... we hunch together and say "Ooooooh!" if something gets sent back. It's all very entertaining. And the executive chef comes over for a chat. And they usually toss some extra little "tasting plates" your way. All in all, a good way to dine. (Unfortunately, nobody gets raw chicken thrown on them. "Hell's Kitchen" has ruined me forever.)

Mmmmm, the wine. There was food too, and it was excellent, but I didn't really get any good pictures of that because, duh, I was too busy eating it. Also, the lighting was not excellent for food. I know because I did a test shot, and the food looks like a pile of stuff you hope you don't step in.

But the wine! Always good for photo ops, that one.

So dinner was over, and we were still breathing the sweet air of freedom, so we decided to hop on the boat and head here:

Not our best decision ever, really. We first head inside, hoping for some mojitos, but the smell (what the hell WAS that?!) drives us back out. No problem, there's a little outside bar. Some teens are there dancing the macarena or something, but we do our best to overlook it. But the outside bar? No mojitos there. Not much of anything there, really. I try a daiquiri (I don't know what possessed me, honest) but it's so bad I can't finish it. Marc tries a Landshark Lager, and declares it horrible as well. We head back to the car. This is what we see when we get in:

Oh well. At this point, I can't wait to go to bed. Did I mention I liked the wine?

If you have 7 minutes to kill...

...you should spend them watching the following video. It's not Better Than Ezra, I promise. (Though there is nothing wrong with another BTE video. Am I right? Really, AM I RIGHT?) No, it's Will Ferrell (whose humor I can only take in small doses, so 7 minutes is perfect) and Dave Grohl (who personifies awesome) doing a fantabulous rendition of "Leather and Lace".

(Note: This would typically go in the Timewasters sidebar, but if you've been keeping up, you'll know why I'm not posting it there. If you have no clue what I'm talking about, GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK. Then come back for to enjoy the video.) Oh, and there's some language. Just so ya know.

And things had been going so well...

For reasons I can not explain, it seems my sidebar content (Alternatives To Here and Timewasters) is not being mapped to my domain from the TypePad host. Um, is that even right? How the hell should I know. What I know is, if you are visiting http://pocketaces.phools.com then you are likely not seeing my sidebar lists. (If you are, could you please comment and let me know?) I also don't know how long that's been going on. Weeks, maybe? I am not exactly observant sometimes.

Until I figure this out (read: until Marc comes home from New York and figures it out for me), if you miss those crazy lists, you can see the full version of this site at http://pocketaces.typepad.com  I'm not sure what to make of the fact that, suddenly, in my mind, those lists are the only reason anyone would come to my site. Ever. And without them, I might as well be spitting into the wind.

Ok, let's check the casualty list: 1) my typelists, and 2) my clever analogy making skills. I better call it a night before I lose my looks, too. (Crap, too late.)

(Yes, I've republished the site. That didn't seem to do anything. All I have left in my arsenal is to reboot. You know, because that's what I do whenever anything else on this newfangled contraption that all the kids are using doesn't work. What, you don't think that will work? Are you sure? Well why don't you come fix it for me then, SMARTYPANTS?)