Tempt My Tummy Tuesday - Watermelon Salad

~Hop on over to Tempt My Tummy Tuesday for more virtual victuals.~

Hopefully, finding a copy of the July 2008 issue of Southern Living, in the free pile at a library, was a good sign. My sister, a South Carolina resident for the past six years, assures me that I am going to stick out like a sore thumb. She has failed to realize that I have the guidance of some rather awesome women.

While studying my beloved issue of Southern Living, I came across a recipe that features watermelon and Gorgonzola. Cheese and chocolate can be blamed for my ample thighs, but darn it (see, see, sister, Jennifer, I am curbing my tongue), I can't wait to make a bowl of this salad.

By the way, pecans are my very favorite type of nut. This goes back to junior high when Susan Henry's* mom baked pecan tassies. Susan brought them in her lunch bag, and my longing look, caused her to share. After school I raced home (sounds better than lumbered), begged my mom to purchase mini muffin tins, and the rest is history.


Watermelon, Mache, and Pecan Salad

Prep: 20 min., Bake: 7 min., Cool: 15 min. Mâche, a tender heirloom variety of lamb's lettuce, has a slightly sweet, nutty flavor, but the salad is equally good prepared with baby lettuces.

Makes 6 to 8 servings

• 3/4 cup chopped pecans
• 5 cups seeded and cubed watermelon
• 1 (6-oz.) package mâche, thoroughly washed
• 1 cup crumbled Gorgonzola cheese
• Pepper Jelly Vinaigrette
  

1. Preheat oven to 350°. Arrange pecans in a single layer on a baking sheet, and bake at 350° for 5 to 7 minutes or until lightly toasted and fragrant. Cool on a wire rack 15 minutes or until completely cool.

2. Combine watermelon and mâche in a large bowl; add vinaigrette, tossing gently to coat. Transfer watermelon mixture to a serving platter, and sprinkle evenly with pecans and cheese.

Pepper Jelly Vinaigrette

Prep: 10 min.

This is also terrific drizzled over a summery trio of sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, and onion.

Makes 3/4 cup

• 1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
• 1/4 cup pepper jelly
• 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
• 1 tablespoon grated onion
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon pepper
• 1/4 cup vegetable oil

Whisk together first 6 ingredients. Gradually add oil in a slow, steady stream, whisking until blended.

*Susan Henry, a former neighbor, and school pal, has the distinction of being the only person with whom I have ever gone shopping, who did not look at price tags. While I realize there are others for whom price is no concern, shopping for clothes with Susan was an eye-opening experience.

We were looking for chic outfits to grace our pubescent figures, when she told me that her mom allowed her to buy anything. Even my best friend at the time, a girl whose parents handed her the Neiman Marcus catalog to make her Christmas list, looked at price tags.

Are you paying attention, BG? There will always be people with a better wardrobe, and you better believe there are many kids out there who wish they had your closet.

Blue Monday - Build a Blue Basket

You can find more Blue at Blue Monday, where Smiling Sally gathers blue from the silly to the serious.

Candy should not be BLUE!

Not thinking it possible for me to resist sugar, I browsed the Easter candy aisle.

Start with some edible Easter grass.
Chlorophyll aside, grass is supposed to be green.

Add some creepy blue bunnies

I am a peep hater.
They rank right up there with circus peanuts.
They look really yummy in blue!

I have heard they are extra yummy when served stale.

My friend, Doris, adores peeps.
She should join Peeps-the fan club of peeps


Too much work to eat.
If I can't pop the entire thing in my mouth, what is the point?

Ewww!

I know, if I closed my eyes, I wouldn't taste the food coloring.
There is something very wrong with this confection.
THE COLOR!

They are sort of cute.
Do they resemble rodents?
Maybe they are rats posing as bunnies.

The treats are getting better.
For these, I could close my eyes.

Scratch that!
They are blueberry.
I like blueberries as nature intended, as a fruit.

Since I have never tasted a Cadbury Mini Egg,
I can not comment.
Apparently they are quite popular, even in blue.

Cotton candy is best served fresh.
I will eat it in blue.
When PG was young she often bought cotton candy.
I was quite fond of sharing her treat.

Blue wrappers!!!

Wrapping chocolate in blue is acceptable.
and
No products made by The Hershey Company, including items and brands in the iconic Reese's franchise, are affected by the recent recall related to peanut butter. Hershey does not purchase any peanut butter, peanuts or peanut products from the Peanut Corporation of America. Peanut butter for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups is made in Hershey facilities under the most stringent safety and quality standards.

Borrowed from Salmonella Blog

Even more blue candy can be found here.

The meaning of Blue Candy from a blog of the same name.

You can listen to Blue Candy.

Maybe everyone loves blue candy.

No, I found proof that I am not alone
(what can't be found with a Google search?).

"I don't love you anymore," he said. "You like blue candy."
Blue candy

Pez are Packed

200 Pez dispensers in a box
They don't match our decor
I still adore them

Compared to most 45 year olds, I don't own a lot

(except for the Pez)

I always give things to Goodwill

Then I shop there for new to me goodies

I have given things away on Freecyle

I sound like self-righteous goody goody

Trust me, I am not

Because we don't have money to give to charity, I like to give away things.
I believe this is meant to be.
Why else would my attempt to sell things turn into a total flop?
When we move, I am going to give away more.

It makes me feel good to be nice.
Does that make my generosity selfish?
**********************
Last summer I wrote about

why packing should almost be a breeze.

or

why BG had her braces removed a few months late.

I have never purchased a lottery ticket, mowed a lawn, visited Niagara Falls, watched a football game, nor have I ever played a slot machine. Although, these appear to be common occurrences in most Pittsburghers' lives, my lack of participation in these activities, never led me to believe I was a freak, until I mentioned to a group of friends that I had never held a garage sale.

"You're kidding me, right?" my friend, Dee, said, while eying me suspiciously. "What do you do with your stuff?"

I was tempted to concoct an outlandish tale of how I had been busy recycling chipped dinner plates, baby clothes, and used coffee grounds into collages. Before I asked if she wanted an invitation to the opening of my one woman show, I decided that I would swallow my pride, in hopes of gaining entrance into the world of throwing a successful garage sale.

Yes, I needed the money, as my job search has proved futile these past few months. While my husband's job provides us with a home, food, and clothing, I had stumbled upon a need for some extra cash. My youngest daughter's orthodontist had decided that after two years, it was time to unveil a mouthful of straight teeth. The glitch being that while I had been making regular payments, I had fallen behind to the tune of $660. Metal removal for money, turned into a plan of empty the house for cash.

I listened intently to the suggestions that my friends eagerly offered. I was to offer cold drinks, price low, but still allow some wiggle room for the shoppers who enjoyed haggling, be prepared for early birds, watch for sweet looking ladies who put a five finger discount into practice, and above all rake in the cash.

Karen, a veteran of countless neighborhood garage sales, was the perfect cheerleader. "Oh, you will make a ton. You have such nice stuff," she offered. "You might make more than the $660 that you need."

I was off and pricing as I swept through the house, pulling down tchotchkes, paring down dishes, glasses, flatware and pans to the bare necessities, grabbing books, and toys. Then I stormed through the house a second time with the intention of making sure my daughter's pearly whites would be exposed in time for her freshman year school picture. My pile grew larger as I decided we didn't need all of our furniture. We rarely sit at the dining room table I told myself as I lugged the chairs to the garage.

The workout was wonderful as I pushed and pulled tables and bookcases, so I could roll up area rugs. Let someone else's nest be feathered with my possessions, I thought. I need the money, I thought, as I searched for places to stow my rather vast supply of scrapbooking goodies, since I was now selling the wooden cabinet that had housed them. Instead, I bagged up paper, pricing it at one tenth its original value. The rubber stamps could be sold. The markers, die cuts, and stickers would all be history.

I arranged the soon-to-be sold items in a hopefully pleasing array on card tables, picnic benches, chair seats and coffee tables. The result looked like Home Depot, Border's, and Toys R Us had merged, piling their wares in my single car garage, i.e., it was a more than a tad chaotic. Seeing the artistic possibilities, I began snapping photos. I could later claim this was for a before and after comparison, if anyone asked.

I eagerly waited for Saturday morning. I checked the weather forecast before climbing into bed. There was a 70% chance of a dry day.

I was more than ready for the early birds. At 7:00 a.m., as my neighbor watched from his porch, I pulled out large items, arranging them as my friends as suggested, near the street. People driving by would surely be attracted to the Fisher Price picnic table, stopping to snap it up for their toddlers. Older folk would spy the tables, chairs and small appliances, pushing each other out of the way to claim my barely used electric frying pan or pressure cooker.

Panic slowly crept in when at 8:15 a.m. no one had shown. At 8:20 a.m. as the first car parked, my tension melted, believing the masses would follow. The couple who emerged was wonderful. Not only did they purchase my antique vanity for twenty bucks, they regaled my husband and me with garage sale stories. We were on our way to the goal, both of us stoked.

A total of ten shoppers graced our garage. The last person walked away with four transfer ware plates after a quick transfer of two dollars. Subtracting the cost of advertising, I was left with a $38 profit, no place to park a car, and a sinking feeling as I tried not to remind myself that my friends would think of me as a failure.

As my husband and I began packing everything into bags and boxes, a funny thing transpired. The sinking feeling made way for elation. I began to giggle, while my more stoic husband let out a few chuckles. It was funny in an odd way. Our expectations had been dashed, but at least it didn't rain.

While we tried to wrap our heads around the disastrous day, we remembered that a shopper had mentioned a huge neighborhood sale a few miles from us. Perhaps, they had stolen all of our customers. There was also talk of a nearby church flea market. Had the crowds simply bypassed a single family sale for better odds?

We filled the car with bags and boxes, cramming in chairs and tables. As much as I love my Yaris, just for the day, I would have gladly traded the great gas mileage for something larger. A Hummer comes to mind.

One might wonder why we didn't put anything back into the house. While the desperate need for quick cash had led me to clean out a good chunk of our possessions, we had lived for a week without these things. We then knew they weren't truly needed, or even mildly missed.

It seemed a better idea to donate everything in hopes that someone would stumble upon goodies such as the Royal Doulton Bunnykins box, silver serving tray, or hand built dollhouse.

As a thrift store shopper, myself, I know the excitement of finding a jewel on the shelves. Although, everything in our boxes was not extraordinary, it would no doubt, find its way into someone else's home. That might not help my daughter's smile, but it did wonders for mine.

Toile Party

Because I love toile, I am excited to join in a party in its honor.
Go ahead and click on the Toile Party button for more pretty patterns.

Country Curtains Toile Duvet Cover

I like the dark wall color in the catalog photo. Our bedroom walls are Lowe's American Traditions Valspar in Belle Grove Light Amber. I chose this for our 1964 house, 'cause it feels like an old home, worthy of a National Trust for Historic Preservation paint color. In case you are new to my blog, that's supposed to be funny. Self-deprecation, or in this case, house-deprecation, is in my genes.

Our bedroom
(prior to new headboard)
The walls are a light amber, not the washed out shade that the flash produced.

Footboard Detail


Toile in Action

SH waking up on wrinkled sheets, and an empty duvet cover. Where is the duvet, you may ask. Well, for a very long time it was in the laundry room in need of a bath. It is now in linen heaven, because someone got grease and dirt on it. Mysterious things happen near our garage.

We also have these plates in blue and white. They used to reside in a tiered plate holder. To give the illusion of endless counter space, I packed them away. Hey, that foot of extra space could be the deciding factor for someone who wants this house...right?

Killing Time at Lowe's

Dictator Lisa vetoed the rug that SH and BG both adored.
I like the colors, though.

This welcome mat made me smile.

I couldn't help but think that each time I entered the house, I would think about cows, and then think in terms of weight. Maybe it would be a good weight loss gimmick, in the vein of the talking cookie jar.

"Stop, move away from the cookie jar."

It must be PMS week, because I have cookies on the brain. This is an educated guess, since I took the calendar off of the refrigerator.

The depersonalizing of the house is reaching an all time high. I removed our toothbrushes from the bathroom, so that potential buyers could envision their own bristled instruments hanging in the holes.

If we hadn't recntly visited PG, I might have forgotten what our older daughter looked like, being that every single family photograph has been in a box for eighty five years. Well, it feels like the house has been on the market for that long.

Yes, I complain constantly in real life, as does PG. It means nothing, except that I am married to a patient man and hopefully, she will also marry a saint.

Superlatives for Spring

My Monday mention of SH talking about another woman, netted me more than a few emails, guessing her identity.

This wonderful lady has been on BG's fingertips often. As for me, I was convinced prior to our meeting, that she was indeed very special.

My family had the extreme pleasure of meeting Mrs. Magpie.

Yes, The Quintessential Magpie!!!

(the most perfect embodiment of sweetness, charm, intellect, and beauty)

Mrs. Mapgpie was a gracious tour guide as we walked a bit.

The water was pretty, pretty, pretty!

We enjoyed a delicious seafood dinner, where I was in such awe,
that I managed to exclaim, "Wow!" repeatedly,
as my vocabulary had somehow diminished greatly upon our meeting.

BG stole a souvenir from Mrs. Magpie's house.
Okay, okay, I am teasing.
Mrs. Magpie generously offered it to a very excited BG.

Concerned that the starfish would break, BG placed it near her on our journey back
She took it to school to show her friends.
It now resides in her bedroom.

BG is displaying the starfish with her prized possessions.
I believe the inspiration for placement, was a direct result of Mrs. Magpie's decorating
style, combining whimsy and beauty.

Taffy, the stuffed dog, has experienced a lot of loving.
When BG was six years old, she lost her dog minutes before she was leaving for overnight camp. It took days, but I found a replacement...shhh!

Thank you, Mrs. Magpie for the honor of spending time with

The Nicest Woman in the World

Alas, I was referring to you with a first name, when SH corrected me.

TNWITW

or

TNWW

or

TNWitW

or

BG is giving me her "You are so weird" look, which means
I should end this post.

Argh!

Just as I started to upload photos from my camera, the battery died. I will have to post when I return from wherever I will be going while someone comes to see the house.

I am behind on reading blogs.

I have emails in need of replies.

Somehow, when compared to the problems that exist in the world, these are piddly things. Piddly? Piddling? Okay, I shall return.

A random PG picture that I stole from her Facebook page.
Keep on Truckin'
Hang in There!
I miss the blog world.

Outdoor Wednesday - W.V.

BG sprouting a mile marker from her head.

Remember to visit Outdoor Wednesday for more views of our world.

The New River Gorge Bridge
New River Gorge, West Virginia

This was our first stop as we headed to Florida. SH and BG were fascinated, while I just wanted to get on the road. Being the perfect, non-whining wife, I oohed and aahed a bunch, while BG snapped photos. Yes, it is high and yes, it is pretty.

It is useful, too! Besides its function as a bridge, crazy folk enjoy using it for bungee jumping. In fact, one of my friends told me that he once did a BASE jump from the bridge. I had to have BASE jumping explained to me.

"BASE" is an acronym which stands for the four categories of objects from which one can jump – Building, Antenna, Span (the word used for a bridge), and Earth (the word used for a cliff.)

I am now picturing cheerleaders. "Go Bridge!!!"

Longest steel arch bridge in the Western Hemisphere with a 1,700' span

Second highest bridge in the United States at 876'
Read more at Bridge Day.

Tardy by 12

The mum of the cutest baby on the Internet sent BG and me a package. Inside were two delightful notes, as well as the perfect books. Choosing books for another person takes great skill, i.e., you rock. How about you have mad skillz. Yeah, yeah, I won't attempt to be cool, because as my children constantly remind me, I am always years behind. Just know that this forever geeky woman thinks that you are super duper wonderful.

I am late in my blog thank you, but rest assured that I only play the rude woman. Yes, I did send my joyful thank you via email. BG did the same.

What we really wanted to do was hop on a plane and give thanks in person. Unfortunately that was not in the budget. BG has started a send me to Northern Ireland account. You can access that at PayPal. Just look under the heading "My mommy went to Europe when she was my age, but I don't even have a passport."

All kidding aside, BG and I feel very blessed that we have a family of three on our list of the three best things. One day we shall hug them in person. Until then, here is a hearty "Thank You" and "Happy St. Patrick's Day" to our dear friends.

March 7-15

We arrived home last night from our Florida adventure.

SH drove over 2000 miles

Fueled with:

The three of us drank quite a bit of coffee.
Note to Toyota: placing air vents behind cup holders was a rather stupid decision.

SH pumping gas in either Florida, Georgia, or South Carolina.

The amazing gas mileage makes up for the AC blowing on the coffee cups.

I amused myself by taking photos of newspapers.

BG busied herself with her quest for state keychains.
This involved stopping at some interesting stores.


BG's choice for lunch.
I was pouting, until I bit into my BBQ chicken sandwich.
The food was actually yummy.

El Cheapo gas was new to us.
SH refused to try it.
Isn't gasoline all the same???

This journey only further proved to us that
the best people reside in the sunshine state.

Hold onto your hat, as I am about to make you all green with envy.

SH can not stop talking about another woman.

The details will be revealed very soon. Until then, it will be

Laundry, laundry, and more laundry.

Just Because

My granddog, Huey

~faith~hope~

If SH can spare time away from his computer, I might get to read blogs and possibly post to mine. Something is definitely wrong with my computer. I have been trying to figure out the problem. When I get SH to fix whatever crap I must have picked up while looking at porn sites, ( just kidding-I don't want to look at women with better bodies-too depressing) I will return.

I will, of course, push my hubby away from his computer, so that I can get my nightly look at the cutest baby on the Internet.

BG, who always has such an upbeat attitude, senses that I am more than a little tense. She is on her way home from school, texting wildly.

"Oh, not to be sad. Hope ok? See my signature is faith and hope."

~faith~hope~

I have been trying to learn from my daughter for sixteen years. She is a daily inspiration. CHARGE Syndrome has never held her back from enjoying life.

"May I play outside then pack?"

~faith~hope~

"Without brace? It will be much easier? I play for short while."

~faith~hope~

While BG plays outside, without her Boston brace, I will work on my attitude.

Wear Socks!

My thighs are pretty much a gelatinous mess. I would still rather gaze upon my often unshaven extremities, than look at my feet. Hairy upper legs pale in comparison to my longer than normal toes. While I will allow a small peek out of toe tops in sandals, flip-flops never grace my feet.

BG's foot.
I am much too kind to subject anyone to a photo of my feet.

I will never have a pedicure. I am not real keen on being touched by strangers, BUT NO WAY in freakin' Hell (sorry non-cursing blog readers) will I allow some poor woman to minister to my toes. Come to think of it, I feel bad for anyone who has to touch feet.

After ignoring my sort of thickened heel skin for 45 years, I purchased a Ped Egg. I found one for the bargain price of $3.99. Walmart has the same model for $9.88. The handle version is $11.88. I can still bend my foot past my fat thighs, so I lightened my wallet for a mere song.

The foot grater sort of worked. The dead skin became powder. I get a kick out of watching the vacuum cleaner canister fill. This was almost as exciting.

Upon further investigation, I realized that my toes may be freaky, but my heels aren't that nasty. Check out these feet. Instead of leaving your Ped Egg languishing in a bathroom vanity drawer, put it to better use in the kitchen. Have a gander at the creativity.

I now realize anyone who knows SH, can rest assured he is not a foot fetishist. Hey, maybe someone was curious. I know that I look at my friends' husbands and wonder who among them wears their wives' pantyhose. I know it isn't the same thing, but it would make me freak. Ew, on that icky note, I am off to bed.

Tempt My Tummy Tuesday - Baklava

Remember to visit Tempt My Tummy Tuesday for more yummy food.

Baklava

Ingredients
1 1/2 pounds walnuts, chopped
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
40 sheets Fillo Dough (9" x 14"), thawed
1 cup butter, melted

In a medium bowl, combine walnuts, sugar, cinnamon, and cloves.

Brush butter on bottom of 9" x 13" baking pan. Place 20 sheets of fillo on the bottom of the pan, brushing each sheet with melted butter as you place in the pan.

Cover with 1/2 of the walnut mixture. Layer 5 more fillo sheets on top, brushing each sheet with melted butter.

Spread the remaining half of the walnut mixture over the fillo and cover with another 15 buttered fillo sheets.

With a sharp knife, score fillo into 1 1/2" diamonds or squares. Brush top with melted butter.

Bake in preheated 350°F oven for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until golden brown.

Cool slightly and pour warm syrup (recipe below) evenly over baklava. Cool completely, cut and serve.

Yield: 30 pieces

SYRUP

Ingredients
2 cups sugar
2 cups water
1 cup honey
Bring all ingredients to a boil. Simmer for 10 minutes. Cool slightly.

We attacked the baklava before it was cooled.

Baklava is also good frozen. The chewy texture is yummy.