Tag Archives: mscooksalot

Smoking

10 Apr

Not to brag, but around these parts, and parts of Central California where I spent many years, I’m known for my cookies.  Yes, in the scheme of things, I realize this is a sad, pathetic talent to be known for.  I have a husband who is an accomplished artist, a son and daughter who are incredibly creative and talented.  I cook.  Specifically, I bake.  This is not impressive.  But if you are hungry, I can provide you with tasty treats. I bake most days of the week and have since I was a teen.  So, I am pretty committed to my gigantic KitchenAid mixer.  In fact, as ridiculous as this sounds to those of you who don’t enjoy time in the kitchen…If my family was safe and I had five minutes to grab stuff out of the house before it collapsed, it would probably be the photo albums, hard drive with photos, kid art and KitchenAid.

Until the event I am about to disclose, I didn’t even know just how radical my KitchenAid mixer was… I knew it was heavy, beastly even.  No joke, this bad daddy weighs over thirty pounds.  Now you know why I do 100 push-ups/day…I need to be strong enough to hoist this baby onto the kitchen counter and back into the cupboard.  Princessenpointe didn’t weigh 3o pounds until she was over two years old!  I received my KitchenAid mixer as a gift for Mother’s Day about a decade ago, so I did no research, information gathering, etc.  I only knew it could mix a quadruple batch of Snickerdoodles and  whip just about anything else into smithereens in seconds.  But, now I know it is a Professional 6.  This is one of the bad daddy models.

I know this because I was mixing whole wheat pizza dough the other day and the KitchenAid started smoking…smoking as in big plumes of smoke spewing from the back and from the front.  I was out back watering the plants while it mashed my dough for six minutes and when I came inside,  the kitchen was smokey.  Does this make the pizza “electrically fired?”  It’s a new take on “coal fired”…only instead of firing the dough in a coal fired oven, you fire the raw dow in a broken down KitchenAid.  EEEEK.  I was afraid to unplug the cord from the electrical socket.  Mind you, both Princessenpointe and Princelightningbolt were nearby and neither noticed the smell or the smoke.  So, if you invite them over to your house, be sure your smoke detector has new batteries because they probably won’t notice that your house is burning down.

Long story short, my KitchenAid is at the repair shop getting new motor parts.  I lasted one day without it and had to borrow Mrscooksalot’s extra.  This extra mixer is a bitty, bitty baby compared to my bad boy, but it will do until I get mine back.  I’ve made some macaroons in it and they are delicious, but I still feel like something major is missing from my life.

Look closely…there is a little plume coming out of the front of the mixer..this is all the smoke that was left after I freaked out for a few minutes, unplugged and thought to go get my phone for a picture…Next time I will be quicker to get the shot.

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Green

19 Mar

Sirskatesalot’s family is Irish, so yesterday was a day for celebration…and they were here with us.  We celebrated at a dueling piano bar Saturday night with friends and a ridiculous crowd who thought they were Irish because they could drink and yell “Whoo Hoo!” at the top of their lungs every few seconds.  This was both entertaining and exhausting at the same time.  For St. Patrick’s Day, I have only made green pancakes and green cupcakes, so I needed Mscooksalot to help me with a dinner menu.  I was stuck on potatoes.  Let’s all admit it, the Irish are great with beer and probably some other stuff…no, not bagpipes…nope, not kilts…but definitely no other delicious food comes to mind.  Ack, Shepherd’s Pie.  Gross.

With Mscooksalot’s guidance, I made roasted potato leek soup with arugula, grilled cheese with Irish sharp cheddar and rye bread, and a green salad.  YUM!  Princessenpointe completed the green festa with grasshopper brownies…not Irish, but definitely green.  After a sunset beach walk, we enjoyed our green dinner, toasted, listened to the Celtic station on Pandora, and even discussed the IRA thanks to Princelighningbolt’s MUN education.  A true St. Patty’s Day evening with an Irish crowd.  I even smashed my big, glass salad bowl while doing the dishes…is throwing plates an Irish tradition?  I think it is not, but it seemed to make our green evening end on a funny note.

I hope to plan more evening dinners around a theme.  Imagine the possibilities!  Tomorrow is Bruce Willis’s birthday…I’m thinking of  a Die Hard dinner theme…any ideas?

You Have Feet in Your Shoes

23 Feb

I wore two shoes tonight.  Ha, funny.  I know what you are thinking.  For me, this is a big deal.  Doc said athletic shoe should be worn on Peg Leg by this weekend.  I figured Friday evening is this weekend and slipped off sexy slipper and on my new running shoe.  Yuck!  This feels terrible, scary, insecure and it kind of hurts.  These bones, ligaments and muscles are not used to pressure and weight.  I am limping.

A limp looks great with jeans and black trail running shoes with neon pink and green accents.   What do you wear with these?  I have never cared what my running shoes look like, just cared how they feel.  No one notices your shoes when they are caked with dirt and out on the lonely trails.  Now I notice them.  Gross.  But, maybe not as gross as the sexy sandal.  And, yes, I am still elated to not be lugging around Das Boot.  My sense of fashion is just a little challenged with the athletic shoe appendage.

I went to a great lunch to celebrate a friend’s birthday today at a small cafe in a quaint town nearby.  I felt really old when we first sat down.  Not because I am older than my pals, but because they were all inquiring about my Peg Leg and I was obliging them.  This is totally what old people do.  They lament, in great detail, their physical ailments and doctor appointments.  I am not yet into my fourth decade (ahem, ya, I may be bragging a little bit), yet I realized, that is me!  Holy cow.  Has five weeks of an injury really brought me to a screeching halt?  I have nothing else to offer?  Where did I go?   I think I used to be witty and had lots of interesting topics to discuss.  Instead, I segued nicely into asking about a friend’s knee injury (she tripped over a kid at a haunted house and tweaked her knee badly…this is a true and interesting story).  Again, though, this is what old people do.  Ailments, doctor appointments and medication are the main topics of conversation.

I am hardly done with Peg Leg, but I have a shoe. I hid Das Boot under my bed.  I am slow.  I hobble.  But, I am moving on.  I am young and free (he, he, he).  Come with me on a new journey.  Bring your running shoes or your George Foreman Grill.  We will get there on a trail or recipe, by recipe.  Mscooksalot might even join the gym to exercise with me…pressure is on.  Limitations are exhausting.  Peg Legs can limp to fun and excitement and stories about living life rather than slowing down.  I’m too young for this shit.

Another one from the best:  You have brains in your head.  You have feet in your shoes.  You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.  You’re on your own, and you know what you know. And you are the  guy who’ll decide where to go.  -Dr. Seuss

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