Good morning everyone! Are you drinking your coffee and perhaps nomming a piece of fruit? Are you ready to head off to the gym for some weightlifting or cycling or elliptical-ing?
Need a hand getting that heartrate up? Try these five songs:
Hey Mama by the Black Eyed Peas — You don’t need a butt or legs like Fergie Ferg to use this song, but it might help you get there!
Last, but one of my personal favorites: Malaguena Salerosa, performed by Chingon. I’ve watched the extras of Kill Bill II a bunch of times; Chingon’s live performance of this song generally makes me dance and skip about the living room, perhaps shadow-boxing as I go. Sadly, it looks like it’s now only available on Amazon if you buy the whole album. (But that album does rock!)
Feather-light, salty and crispy, these little green morsels beat potato chips all hollow. I got the basic recipe from Lyn but it’s simple enough that I’ll re-post here:
Preheat oven to 350°. Snap the leafy part free from the stem, wash, and spin dry. Slice out the stems and arrange the leaves on a [foil-lined] cookie sheet*. (I’ve seen some recipes that tell you to cut them into three-inch chunks. While it takes a little more room, I find it easier to keep the pieces as big as possible; it allows you to turn them more easily.) Use a Misto to spritz the leaves with olive oil then lightly season. (Per the recipe, I used salt. Next time I may try Montreal Steak Seasoning . . . or perhaps some BACON SALT!) Turn the leaves over; spray-and-season the other side. Cook at 350° for five minutes, then turn the leaves over. Pop into the oven for another five or so (keep checking on it) until the leaves break into pieces when you bend them.
These were DELICIOUS. I couldn’t help eating a bunch last night — I, er, ate all the ones that were over-browned so Mike wouldn’t have to, you see — and saved the rest to serve as an appetizer for tonight’s dinner. This sounds like a super-happy snack for the weekends! Enjoy!!
*I don’t think the foil is really necessary, but my sink is small and washing cookie sheets are a major pain, so I use it.
Good morning all! I hope your weekend was as lovely as mine! I managed to overcome the natural laziness that is the bane of my existence and did the following this weekend:
Drank coffee while petting Rajah and reading Kindle
Cleaned my bathroom
Took a semi-n00b to the range (and we all had a lovely time!)
Ate some delicious fettuccine carbonara, prepared by the loving hands of my husband
Did my duty at the kitty shelter and wrote bios for five sweeties*
Marveled at how the beautiful sunshine nicely disguised a friggin’ CHILLY morning
Downloaded a few new workout songs (they’ll make appearances on Workout Wednesday!)
Did 8 minutes on the Arc-Trainer and worked hard enough during my 45 minutes on elliptical to be dizzy afterwards
Stretched diligently — I’m a good girl
Cleaned Mike’s bathroom (I made him a deal that I’d clean his bathroom if he cleaned all the guns from Saturday’s range trip)
Washed the floormats from both bathrooms
Planned out the weekly food menu
Went grocery shopping at two different stores**
Roasted a chicken (that sucker took WAY longer than I expected) as well as a zucchini and some red and yellow bell peppers
Tidied up the kitchen and prepared coffee for this morning
(Apparently) sacrificed some small furry creature to the Gods Of Early Morning, for I awakened today at 4:45 with no problems. Hooray!
I always feel so guilty when I’m lazy and, conversely, so accomplished when I *do* things that it’s amazing how lazy I *still* am :-p
So . . . how was your weekend?
*Seriously, this is why I bought the iPhone. I stood at the shelter petting each new kitty, used the phone to take a photo or two, then wrote up a bio in the Notes app. On one occasion I used the internet to look up an old Donny and Marie Osmond song. Then I copied all the notes into an email and sent it off to the shelter coordinator, along with the pictures. This phone RAWKS!!!
**I rotate shopping trips between Shaw’s, Hannaford’s and Stop and Shop, depending on what we need that week. I walked into Shaw’s and was frustrated that they had no fresh basil. Then I was seriously irked that they had no baby spinach. When I realized that they had no mint it was the last straw; I put back my cart and drove straight to Stop and Shop. C’mon, Shaws; do you want my business or don’t you?
O Senor Don Gato was a cat.
On a high red roof Don Gato sat.
He was there to read a letter,
(meow, meow, meow)
where the reading light was better,
(meow, meow, meow)
‘Twas a love-note for Don Gato!
“I adore you,” wrote the ladycat,
who was fluffy white, and nice and fat.
There was not a sweeter kitty,
(meow, meow, meow)
in the country or the city
(meow, meow, meow)
and she said she’d wed Don Gato!
O Senor Don Gato jumped with glee!
He fell off the roof and broke his knee,
broke his ribs and all his whiskers,
(meow, meow, meow)
and his little solar plexus
(meow, meow, meow)
“Ay Caramba!!” cried Don Gato.
All the doctors they came on the run,
just to see if something could be done.
And they held a consultation,
(meow, meow, meow)
about how to save their patient,
(meow, meow, meow)
how to save Senor Don Gato.
But in spite of everything they tried,
poor Senor Don Gato up and died.
No, it wasn’t very merry,
(meow, meow, meow)
going to the cemetary,
(meow, meow, meow)
for the ending of Don Gato.
But as the the funeral passed the market square,
such a smell of fish was in the air,
though the burial was plated,
(meow, meow, meow)
he became reanimated,
(meow, meow, meow)
he came back to life, Don Gato!
Ouch–that’s no fun. Let’s start over. Imagine for a moment that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s house burned down. There–that’s better.
After a week, the Twelfth Imam still hasn’t shown up to build him a new one, so Mahmoud goes down to Achmed Insurance Co. and says “Sell me a policy that will cover my house fire last week.” And his agent says “Love to–we like losing money and going out of business!”
Well, that’s Obamacare. The week-old house fire is like a pre-existing condition. Naturally, if companies must sell you a policy, many people would not carry coverage until they needed it. It’s only logical.
LISSA: Why not? They’re not the same? They share the same freakin’ gods, for cryin’ out loud, just with different names!
MIKE: That’s true! And they’re both greasy!*
LISSA (thinking about other differences between the countries): Is there an Italian orthodox church?
MIKE: (says nothing, just goggles at me)
LISSA: What? Did I say that really loud? Was that bad?
MIKE: Noooooooooooo, it’s not that!
LISSA: What??
MIKE: Um, yes, there’s an Italian orthodox church. The one with the Pope.
LISSA: (hangs head in melodramatic shame while giggling madly)
I may have been baptized Catholic, but I’m clearly not up to date with my theology!
P.S. Strega? Thumbs UP, y’all! Delicious food, delicious drink, and the TV screens play The Godfather, Analyze That, and Scarface all at once!
*In case you’re wondering, that was a JOKE. Mike’s got Italian ancestry and I’ve never once skimmed Crisco from his hair! And Jay G doesn’t even HAVE hair!
Disney is searching for real treasure chests for its upcoming shoot of the next “Pirates of the Caribbean” swashbuckler — that is, women with natural breasts.
The movie studio has banned actresses with artificial enhancements for the fourth installment, “Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides,” directed by Rob Marshall and starring Johnny Depp as the drunken buccaneer Jack Sparrow.
The filmmakers sent out a casting call last week seeking “beautiful female fit models. Must be 5ft7in-5ft8in, size 4 or 6, no bigger or smaller. Age 18-25. Must have a lean dancer body. Must have real breasts. Do not submit if you have implants.”
And they warn that there’ll be a “show and tell” day.
To make sure LA talent scouts don’t get caught in a “booby trap,” potential lassies will have to undergo a Hollywood-style jiggle-your-jugs test and jog for judges. If there’s nothing moving from the waist up, they’re saying, it’s a dead giveaway that you’re not all flesh and bones — and you’re out.
Apparently, the bouncier the better, especially for sword-fighting action sequences, according to the Sunday Times of London.
To which I sputter: After that mind-numbingly stupid piece of trash called “At World’s End,” they’re making ANOTHER Pirates movie?????
[My computer refused to connect to the Internet yesterday, leaving me with a half-finished post and no way of saving it. It’s behaving better today, so I’ll finish it up!]
Good morning all! On a side note, I’m exhausted; I helped a friend by editing a paper, and as a result I was stricken with college nightmares. You know — dreams of papers overdue, of roommate and dorm issues, of irate chemistry professors, stuff like that. I feel unrested and stressed despite the fact that I’m not in college anymore!!!
Anyway, let’s revel in the fact that I’m an adult and look at more guns!
While playing with the AR-15 and .22, some nice guys the next berm over offered to let us shoot their .22. It was a Savage Mark 2 BTBS with a lovely lovely stock:
To be honest, I don’t know whether I hit the target with the Savage; their paper was pretty well perforated and the scope wasn’t THAT good. But Mike seemed to like it!
Shoothouse Barbie was thrilled to break in her birthday-Garand:
(I’ve had a date with a Garand — remember? — and so declined to make this one’s acquaintance.)
After much hopping up and down and pleading by Lissa, we brought out the shotties! This shiny gun is a Winchester Model 1300 —
— and here Vanna Dr. Boyfriend shows off the Remington 870:
Is this a good excuse to post the shottie video again? Oh, surely it’s a good enough excuse:
(And of course I wanted the shiny gun for the video! I did shoot both though.)
As you can tell by watching me fly backwards, buckshot is a WHOLE DIFFERENT GAME than birdshot!! I was hunkered low for stability and bracing my feet and still got slammed about.
Memento of two shotguns' delicate caresses
The last thing we shot was an FAL .308 (which I believe is specifically verboten by our good friend Martha Coakley):
It took me a little wiggling to get the magazine in — it loads weird, and I’m always afraid to break other peoples’ stuff — but it was a hoot to light off. It had a real smooth trigger pull; the recoil was not insubstantial but it was fairly quick and easy to get the red dot sight back on target.
I don’t have any pictures, but we used the fading light to scoot over to the pistol range and play with Glocks and Steyrs and Sigs (they have a Siguette!) and removed the center of many targets. A good time was had by all!
Shoothouse Barbie and Dr. Boyfriend, thanks so much for taking us shooting! We had a fabulous time!
And as a bonus, I finally, FINALLY learned how to make a moist pork loin! Apparently the secret is to sear all four sides in a cast-iron skillet before popping it into the oven with a meat thermometer. Hooray!
I used Rendezvous dry rub all over the outside and served it with pan-roasted brussel sprouts. Nom nom nom!
That’s it’s time to re-read The Lord of the Rings trilogy:
Make sure you click through for the hover-over text!
Marko’s post is here. I just love it when the universe falls into order. Say “friend” and enter . . .
UPDATE: I didn’t get it from Heath J, but he should get credit for being first! Also, Mike thinks it should be “Speak, friend, and enter.” I think I posted the correct version, despite what Gandalf may have originally believed. Your thoughts?
I finally got around to writing this up which I’ve been meaning to do for daysShoothouse Barbie asked me to, so *long sigh* I suppose I will!
Needless to say, we had a lovely time at Shoothouse Barbie‘s range! It was huge — way bigger than I’m used to — and with more than enough room to set up a shotgun target on the close berm and rifle targets on the far berm.
First up for Lissa: a .22 Vostack (sp?) CM 2 with a superscope!
Dr. Boyfriend carefully instructed us on shooting from a prone position with a bipod and a sock full of rice. It was really hard for me to keep my eyesight from blurring and my shoulder felt seriously unnatural, but supposedly finding my “natural point of aim” and controlling my breathing would make the teeny-tiny bullet travel 75 yards and go exactly where I wanted it. I think this is where folks find “the zen of the rifle” but for me it was more difficult than relaxing. I imagine that with more practice it gets easier.
Oh, and the term “hair trigger”? We haz it! I took a deep breath, let it out, took a deep breath, then gently placed my finger on the trigger so I could pull it halfway through the next breath — PLINK!
“Holy ****, did that just go off?” I frickin’ TOUCHED the thing and the shot fired. Dr. Boyfriend had told me the trigger was ridiculously super-light, but this was like nothing I’d experienced before. Oy!
The .22 was interesting, but I liked the next gun a lot better:
That is, as many of you know, an AR-15 (with a red-dot sight). Mama liiiiiiiike! This pretty thing had a loud boom — although it wasn’t nearly as loud when you were the one shooting it. Isn’t that funny? — with a smooth and easy recoil. I’m told that since they’re made of plastic and rather modular, you can trick them out any way you want.
Dr. Boyfriend reclines, Mike hunches and Shoothouse Barbie watches over
I have four more guns to review, but my shower is calling me — Happy Friday, all!
lookingforlissa 