It's a Wonderful Tur-Duc-Hen! *Christmas Entry*

I didn’t think I’d be here until after the holidays, but after having the Christmas that I had, I simply couldn’t resist. Plus, I did something new, or rather ate something new, so I figured that it’s only appropriate to share it with you all.

As you may know, I had my family out from WI this past week as Kevin was gone in WI to see his. A couple days before Kevin left he surprised me with a tur-duc-hen that he had special ordered a few weeks ago from Louisiana. He had it delivered to the Harp so I had no idea what he was up to until he had me go pick it up.

For those who don’t know what a tur-duc-hen is, it’s a de-boned chicken shoved into a de-boned duck that shoved into a partially de-boned turkey. I have to use the word ‘shoved’ or it loses its humor factor. Oh, and in between the shoved birds is a layer of stuffing with Creole sausage. Yum. Kevin and I had wanted to get a tur-duc-hen for Thanksgiving or Christmas the very moment we heard of its existence. However, by the time Thanksgiving and Christmas came around, we had forgotten to order it in time and had to settle for a boring turkey with nothing what-so-ever shoved into it. Kevin getting the family and I one for Christmas was the most awesome-est present ever. The only sad thing was that Kevin wouldn’t be around to enjoy it.



After opening prezzies Christmas morning (I got the Harry Potter movie box set…*squeal!*), I went ahead and put in the tur-duc-hen. I didn’t tell the family what we were having and up until I pulled it out of the refrigerator, we all simply referred to it as the ‘mystery meat’. They were pleasantly surprised that we weren’t having ostrich or buffalo balls.


A thawed tur-duc-hen should take about 4 ½ hours to cook. Kevin had warned me that it is easy to dry out the bird(s) so I took plenty care to baste it every 45 minutes. I have also never basted anything before, so I guess that’s a non-exciting new thing as well.


The tur-duc-hen ended up taking 5 hours to cook all the way through (as indicated with my brand new meat thermometer) and when it came out it looked delicious regardless of what my father’s finger is indicating.


Everyone loved the tur-duc-hen, even my step-mother who didn’t have hers until the next day due to the illness of drinking the Bloody Mary’s I prepared for her. Sorry Mom! We accompanied the meat with mashed potatoes, green bean casserole (Kevin, there was nary a serving of green bean casserole left when dinner was over…you are the only one in the ole US who doesn’t like G.B. casserole! Hee hee), gravy and rolls (a typical Midwest dinner without a speck of non-dressed vegetable in sight). It was excellent.


After dinner, my dad stayed at home with our still very ill mother, while my brother, sister, cousin and I went down to the pier to meet Patrick and Michele for a Duffy ride. If I thought I was having fun before, I was about to be blown away.

Things started out simply enough. We cruised around the bay for a few hours, drinking wine, eating cheese and crackers, talking and looking at all the fancy houses decorated with Christmas lights. It was fairly quiet on the bay and with all the tur-duc-hen in my stomach I became really relaxed to the point of sleepiness…but in that good way.




About an hour or so in, we ran out of wine. There was no place on the bay to stop and get more, so instead we floated over to Michele’s parent’s house where Michele’s ex-husband’s boat just happened to be.

“You have to be really really quiet”

“Why?”

“We’re going to steal some wine off of the boat.”

So Patrick and I became the official pirates of Newport Beach. Except there wasn’t any wine on the boat so we took some Bailey’s and Kaluha instead. Michele wasn’t happy with our plundering so she snuck into her parent’s house for wine and the most delicious eggnog I’ve ever had.


After another hour or so, we floated past the Balboa Bay Club and noticed that they were indeed open. Even though we weren’t dressed properly, we went in anyhow and had a couple cocktails courtesy of Patrick. We talked with the gay bartender, Stephen (who gave my brother and my cousin free beers but not my sister and I), and watched Michele sing with the pianist. We might have been having too much of a good time as the manager kept giving us the stink eye the entire time and looked a bit too relieved when we finally left.




We floated around for another hour (Michele had tried to head back but all of us, included Patrick, pleaded for just another 20 minutes more on the boat) and finally docked. My car was parked at the Shamrock, so we all decided to go in for a cocktail courtesy of me.

Michele and Patrick were pretty tired so they left right after their drinks were done. My sister, brother, and cousin who are all in their early twenties wanted to stay, so stay we did. We ended up talking with Finky and Nads most of the night.


It was at the Shamrock that my sister taught me the Christmas Tree Dance. The video explains most of it (with the actual dance of course) but I’ll describe it as well. The dance goes as following: First you make the tree, then you hang the garland, then you put on the ornaments, then the star, then the presents, then you chop it down and take it to the curb. It’s an awesome dance as Maggie will demonstrate below (even though the music isn’t optimal for it).



At about midnight, we took a cab back to my house. Of course the KIDS (they yelled at me before for calling them that but I don’t care) didn’t feel like they were done so we walked over to a very dead Pierre Street Annex. I made the KIDS fill out Lotto ticket slips for me (didn’t win a thing by the way) while my sister did the Christmas Tree Dance with the DJ. Thankfully the bar closed after about 40 minutes of us being there and we finally went home to pizza and tur-duc-hen.

Best. Christmas. Ever.

Happy Holidays!

Merry Christmas everyone! Just as last year, I’m going to take a little break from the blog over the holidays. My Dad, step-Mom, brother and sister are all coming out to California from Wisconsin for Christmas and I couldn’t be more excited. Unfortunately (but good at the same time), Kevin will be in WI visiting his family and I’m going to miss him terribly. However, his days will be filled with snow and mine will not, so I’ll have plenty to be smug about when he calls. Hee. I’m evil.

I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday and a fantastic New Year!


Waiting for Santa...

Trans-Siberian Orchestra - Milwaukee, WI *Guest Entry*

With the holidays fast approaching, and with my family coming out to CA to visit me during them, and with the recent events, etc. etc. I have been, well, not doing anything new this weekend….for a couple weekends. BUT! Never to fear! My best friend, Beth, who I have sung her praises in the past, has agreed to do my something new this weekend for me and write about it here. I will, of course, have to interject occasionally within her post as that’s just the kind of thing I like to do….interrupt.

So without further ado, I present Beth’s experience at the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert in Milwaukee, WI.:

Oh What Mine Eyes Have Seen and Ears Have Heard!

Trans-Siberian Orchestra…

Words are not going to be able to give this concert due credit. I think if I even used a video recorder, it still couldn’t do it justice. This was the most PHENOMENAL show I have ever seen. Extremely loud sound system, heavy guitar riffs, the Milwaukee String Orchestra, guys with long black hair and girls with long black boots, crazy good vocals, piano duels, killer female violin player, lights, lasers, fireworks, pyrotechnics, I’m telling you, the show had it all…all except an on your feet, scream your head off, dance till you drop crowd. I think that is the first concert I ever sat through. One of the musicians even told us to sit back down after we gave a standing ovation for one of the songs. WAA?! I guess that is what they are used too. Cool for me because it saved my feet from hurting. We all did our fair share of clapping and WOO!ing to make up for it.

[That reminds me of the time I was told to sit down and be quiet at an Anaheim Ducks hockey game…damn Disney]

If you are not familiar with Trans-Siberian Orchestra, you probably celebrate Hanukkah. [But…I don’t celebrate Hanukkah and I’ve never heard of them] They are one of the more popular modern Christmas song composers today. [OH…Christmas songs…that’s why] They rock out songs like the Nutcracker Suite, Christmas Canon, and Hark the Herald Angels Sing. If you heard some of their music, you would definitely recognize it. My mom (who came with my husband and I) aptly described it as “Christmas music for baseball players, you know, on steroids.” Try trans-siberian.com for some sample audio and video. [Or, you can watch that Miller Lite commercial with the house lights]



This particular concert was held at the Bradley Center in Milwaukee, WI. [I saw Duran Duran there. See? I like to interrupt] It started with lights blazing and flashing everywhere and them playing one of their signature songs. Then a narrator with a voice to rival James Earl Jones came out to start a “Twas the Night Before Christmas” like poem. It had the same rhythm, but a completely different story. And so the musical story began. Narration, rock out, narration, ballad, narration, guitar duel [oOoo], narration, ballad, so on and so forth all the while with lights and lasers a flashing. It was a beautifully moving story about an angel trying to find the spirit of Christmas and his trials along the way. He eventually finds it in a bartender who helps a girl get back to her father by giving her all the cash from his register. It was a little more involved than that, but you get the picture.



After the story, it was time to ROCK out. Proud Mary, Charlie Brown, Opera, Classical, Jazz, Christmas music, all in rock star fashion as we were entertained by the best light and laser show EVER. It was absolutely fantastic. If you have never seen them before, I suggest you do. You will not be disappointed. Best show I have ever seen.



I think my favorite part was when they finished. [That is the funniest line in the whole entry] One of the guys came out and said “We’re not going to play the game where you cheer for 15 minutes and wait till we come back. We got another show in an hour. How about hearing a couple more?” Hallelujah! I hate the encore clapping. We all know that they are going to come back out. Why must we scream and clap? Some would say that they need a break…shut up. Try working with 10 three year olds for five hours straight before you get a break. I must be jealous. Any way, the encore was fabulous! Fireworks, pyrotechnics, lights, all flawlessly choreographed to music. Have I said best show I have ever seen enough yet?



Well, unlike a rock concert, I have no fabulous exit. I can only say I ended the evening at my favorite Indian restaurant, with my favorite dish, and 2 of my favorite people: my husband and my mom [Readers, I’d like to think that if she was listing her 10 favorite people, I would be included. I’m hoping anyhow…she has a lot of relatives]. Plus the Packers won yet another game [WOOO!] so it was an Awesome day all around.

In memory of Grandpa Lach 1918-2007

In the summer of 1986 I took my first paying job as a dishwasher at my grandfather’s custard stand in Milwaukee, WI. I was thirteen years old and I made minimum wage, which at the time was $3.35 an hour. My first day on the job, my grandpa took me back into his office to give me a scoop of custard and to hand down the following law, “When you are on the clock, you are not my granddaughter, you are my employee. I expect you to behave as one.”

Regardless of my employee-only status during dishwashing hours, I had a great time working there. There was a 3 by 1 foot hole by the dishwasher’s station that was used to bring in the trays of dirty dishes. Mostly it was a peephole to look out into the restaurant and gossip about some of the crazy customers with my 60 year old co-worker. I don’t remember all the crazy customers but I do remember the guy who would come in and put salt on his chocolate sundae. The job had other perks for a 13 year old….like going down in the basement cooler to get a big can of Hershey’s chocolate syrup and licking the spoon after I was done pouring it into the serving jar…like making the soup in a pot I could have sit in (I’d like to mention now that there wasn’t much besides the custard that was homemade)…like carving the cheese slices on the big carving machine…like custom ordering your burgers and hot dogs from the cook at lunchtime.

It was a great first job and true to his word, my grandpa always treated me like an employee, but an employee that he really liked a lot.

My grandpa passed away this past Wednesday. I am very fortunate in the fact that he is the very first of any of my immediate family to die, however, that fact alone made me take the news as a bit of a shock. I was honestly beginning to think that my family would live forever. I am not as close to my grandfather as I wished I would have been. But I do have my memories and if you will excuse the slight switch in posts, I’d like to list a couple more of them here, sans pictures.

When I was much younger than 13, when we would go to visit my grandpa at the custard stand, he would let any of the grandkids keep any money they found on the floor of the office. He would count the money of the day back there and change was due to fall. My grandfather was big man. Well over 6 feet tall and almost as wide, picking up a fallen dime off the floor to even out the books would be way too much effort for a big man in a small office to muster. The floor of the office was covered in a layer of grease and dust tracked in from the kitchen (the kitchen was always cleaned, the office…never) but that didn’t stop the grandkids from getting grease and dirt under their fingernails for the $2.47 the floor was bound to contain. I think I once garnered over ten bucks but that was due to a lull in other grandkids visiting. With a pocket full of dirty money, I could saunter into the kitchen and make myself a huge custard sundae with chocolate, caramel, chocolate sprinkles (aka: Jimmies), and not one but four cherries. Yeah, I was a big kid.

Speaking of big, the other great memory I have is at my brother’s 5th or 6th birthday party. Grandpa had showed up as a passenger in our Uncle Dennis’s new corvette. Grandpa, as I mentioned, was a big man and the Corvette was a very small car. Not understanding how he managed to get into the car in the first place, he had a hell of time trying to get out. I’m sadden by the fact that we didn’t have a camcorder at the time as seeing my grandfather stuck in a little gold Corvette like Pooh Bear - with my father pulling on his arms on one side and my Uncle Dennis using his feet to push grandpa from the other - was a classic.

I’ll miss you Grandpa Lach.

Paul Frank Warehouse Sale (Part Duex -Holiday Sale)

Holy crap! People are stopping in to the site in droves because of the Paul Frank Warehouse Sale post! Always wanting to give the people what they want, here is the information regarding the Paul Frank Holiday Warehouse Sale going on this weekend and next weekend.

Two points I want to mention before you click on the below flyer link:

• You people in Europe and Asia that are checking in….are you planning on flying out for the sale or is there something you want me to pick up for you? If it’s the latter, I’m kinda broke, even at sale prices. Send me money and I’ll do it though (shipping and handling charges do apply!)
• Now that I’ve provided you the information that you were so desperately searching for, you should do me the honor of reading at least one other post. Not the one directly below, it’s not my best work….maybe the one on Irish Stew? People seemed to like that one.

Laguna Festival of the Arts (and Mom's visit) - Various, CA

It’s December already? How the hell did that happen? Last I checked the knob on the air conditioner didn’t go past 10 no matter how bad I wanted it to (“Why don't you just make ten louder and make ten be the top number and make that a little louder?” “[pause] These go to eleven.”) and now I’m shivering when I get up wondering why I didn’t turn on the heat the night before. I haven’t even gotten my Christmas cards written out yet! How are all of you to know to send them to me if I don’t send them to you first? AHHHH!!!

Heh.

Speaking of holidays, it was recently Thanksgiving; and for Thanksgiving, my lovely mother came out to visit me. The visit was good, but busy. My mom was always cold except for about 15 minutes on the last day during the afternoon when she was sitting in the sun with only TWO long sleeve shirts on, rather than three long sleeve shirts (one being long johns) a winter coat and a pair of gloves. Seriously. I honestly don’t know how she manages being in WI where it is easily 40 degrees colder than it is here. I questioned whether or not she had her own heated ‘bubble’ environment that she uses. I think she said yes and I don’t think she was lying.

But besides her being cold, it was good. She arrived on Thanksgiving Day and we spent a long time talking while we waited for the turkey that was only suppose to take 3 hours to cook took 5. I didn’t have enough foresight to provide proper snacks so for those 5 hours, we nibbled on crackers and Pringles while slowly getting tipsy on holiday cocktails. Ah, a proper Thanksgiving. We also played Children’s Cranium (she won) and I forced her into watching the latest episode of ‘Pushing Daisies’.

The next day Kevin stayed home to do what he does best (which I’ll jealously say ‘is nothing’ but what I really mean is ‘having a good time puttering around in pajamas’) while my mom and I tried to go whale watching. Unfortunately the whales are currently on holiday in Baja, Mexico and won’t be back until December 17th (They are consequently not checking voicemail either). We ended up going for breakfast and playing a hundred and one rounds of “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know, what do YOU want to do?” before pajama clad Kevin texted me and suggested we go to the Laguna Beach Art Festival that was having its Christmas themed art…thing.



I’ve never been to the Festival of the Arts building so we ended up parking all the way on PCH (and paying $10 for parking) and walking the mile and a half to the festival (where parking was $3). I wasn’t expecting much from the festival so I ended up being pleasantly surprised. There was your standard fare of paintings and jewelry, but they also had a live glass blower demonstration, a snow making machine (!!!), and the most real looking Santa I have ever seen. My mom kept asking me if I wanted her to buy me something, (“Do you like that? Do you want me to get it for you?”) but I kept turning her down. By the time I did find something that I wouldn’t have minded having (a gorgeous paper origami on oil painting) she had stopped asking.


My mom also got in trouble for taking pictures of people’s art without asking, and I managed to snap this picture of her with two older ladies who weren’t actually purposely dressed as elves.



My mom showed them the above picture. The woman on the left looked at it in the digital camera window and said, “Oh dear! I need to wear more color!”


We stuck around for a good three hours before trudging back the mile and half to the car.

After a dinner with bad music in Dana Point, we headed back to Costa Mesa to pick Kevin up so we could all go to the Harp. At the Harp my mom drilled Brian on the materials and methods he used for his recent flip. I don’t know if Brian was happy or uncomfortable talking about it. My mom really likes discussing siding and travertine floors. I basically know where I got my love of TLC remodeling shows.

We did nothing worth mentioning on that Saturday, but on Sunday, we all woke up early and went to Catalina. That’s right, Catalina Island on golf carts! And yes, it was still awesome. We had dinner at a so-so fish restaurant (I got a burger) and then went for drinks at Luau Larry’s. Luau Larry’s was having a drink special…I don’t remember what the drink was, but it came with a straw hat. Of course I had to have one. After Kevin saw my hat, HE had to get one. And because of that, we have these awesome mementos:





Our last stop was at the Cantina. My mom stated to the waitress after asking what time the last boat left, “We’re not from around here.” Because we were still wearing the hats (among other things), the waitress responded, “That’s pretty obvious.” It was a good moment…almost as good as other Catalina tourists taking our picture and someone making the following comment when my mom climbed in a tree to get her picture taken, “Look! It’s a hat model!”




My mother admitted the next day that it was the most she has had to drink in a long time. I’d like to respond, “That’s pretty obvious.”

Heh.

On Monday while poor Kevin had to go to work, my mom and I drove around taking pictures of palm trees. Or rather, I drove and she would yell, “Stop Stop Stop!” when a photographic palm made an appearance. I’ve told people that story since then and they always suggest that I get her a palm tree or a light-up palm tree Christmas tree for a present. To that I respond, I can’t- she already has them.


My mom left on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving and it was sad to see her go. I’ve got more family coming in for Christmas so it’s definitely a nice but busy holiday season this year. Evil cat Chloe has been sharpening her claws and perfecting her hisses for the occasion. One of these days I’m going to have to create a new website called, “I swear our cat isn’t normally like this” with videos to support my cause.

Go Elf Yourself

I'm not quite ready to post the monstrous entry which is 'my mother was in town and I took her places'. To make up for the lag, I present:

Kevin and Fish in Go Elf Yourself

Happy Turkey Day!

…there’s going to be a few changes around here…

Unless you are blind, which I’m assuming that you’re not since you are reading this without Braille, I’m in the process of changing the look of the blog. Heather at GoofyGirl Designs has been helping me (and when I say ‘helping’ I mean ‘completely doing it herself’) with the header and the new layout. It’s currently a work in progress so although the header will stay the same, other things are prone to change. The background may be gray now, but in two days time it might be blue or have crazy stripes that make you dizzy. I just don’t know yet. I guess this is the long way of saying “Pardon the mess”.

In other news, Happy Thanksgiving! My mom is flying in from WI this morning and I’m going to make my traditional turkey dinner fit for the Mongolian army. I’ve actually only ever spent a single Thanksgiving with my mom as I was always with my dad and step mom in Mayville (and you have to know that if a town is called Mayville, it’s a small ass town) for dinner. I hope she enjoys the food, as there will be enough of it to feed the entire town of Costa Mesa. The Packer game is also on this morning (9:30 AM!) so you have to know that Kevin is tickled pink….or will be when he actually wakes up.

So there you have it. Blog changes. Turkey. Mom.

Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!

Indian Reception - Anaheim, CA

Once upon a time there was a young Indian man (Indian as in India, not Native American) who began working at the same company as the author of this here blog did. By per chance, this young Indian man shared a cubicle wall with the author of this here blog and they became friends in a general acquaintance who works with you and shares a cubicle wall sort of way. His name is not something this author of this here blog can reveal, so this author of this here blog will call him Fish, as that was his sometimes nickname name.

Fish is a great co-worker and cubicle wall sharer. He taught the author of this here blog a few Indian words and phrases that may or may not become useful in the years to come. One of these phrases is ‘shukriya’ which means thank you and has impressed a couple waiters at Mother India. An even more useful phrase - mainly during work hours - is ‘Monet coontalow ave-che; muje maar dalo abhi’ which means “I’m bored; kill me now.” Fish was also gracious enough to share with the author of this here blog tastes of his incredibly yummy smelling lunch from time to time, most of which was very spicy and made the author of this here blog drink lots and lots of water and squeak to Fish that no, in fact, it wasn’t that spicy. Fish knew this author of this here blog was lying.

When the author of this here blog met Fish 3 years ago, he was a young lad of 25. Fish would on occasion mention how old he was (not in the “oh yes, I’m 25” way, but in the “I can’t believe how OLD I am, I’m going to be 30 soon!”) and that his mother thought it was high time that Fish got married. The author of this here blog would laugh at Fish, but also secretly cursed Fish for calling the author of this here blog old as the author of this here blog was already in her thirties. But the author of this here blog digresses. Anyhow, while the author of this here blog thought the pressure of getting married at 25 a bit unusual, the author of this here blog understood that there are different cultures and traditions so didn’t argue. In fact, the author of this here blog suggested to Fish that he date one of the waitresses at Mother India....that didn’t work out.

A couple years later Fish mentioned that his mother had put an ad in a newspaper in India looking for prospects for Fish to marry. After calling and emailing one of these ladies, Fish went to India for 3 weeks to meet her and came back engaged.

Fish went through an agonizing 9 month wait while immigration did what immigration does best….paperwork. Finally, in September of this year, Fish and his Indian fiancée got married. The marriage was in Kentucky and was strictly family-only. 2 months later Fish and his new Indian bride held a reception and invited the author of this here blog and the boyfriend of the author of this here blog to join in the celebration. The author of this here blog was elated!

Last Friday night was the reception. The author of this here blog and the boyfriend of the author of this here blog were seated at the honky table with a few of our fellow co-workers who were also invited.


Fish's Bride, Fish, and Kevin ACTUALLY WEARING A TIE!

As one can imagine, an Indian reception follows a different pattern than an American style reception. An American style reception goes as follows:

1. Guests start to get drunk at bar while waiting for bride and groom to ‘appear’
   
2. Bride and Groom announced, slow dance ensues
   
3. DINNER!
   
4. Toast after toast that make guests sleepy after all the booze\dinner
   
5. CAKE!!!
   
6. Dancing
   
7. Chicken Dance\Shout!\YMCA
   
8. Dancing
   
9. Drunken brawl between Aunt Gretchen and that creepy uncle that no one can remember his proper name (he’s just referred to as ‘Ass Hat’)
   
10. (WI Only) Bridal party leaves to get more drunk at local dive bar. Guests either get taxis or beg the bartender for just one more Miller High Life

At this particular Indian reception, there was no booze. While there was no booze, there were appetizers. And after appetizers, there were speeches. And after speeches, there was cake. And after cake there was dancing, and not just slow dancing, THIS kind of dancing:





The author of this here blog thought it was awesome. Though because of being unfamiliar with tradition, began to think that maybe the appetizers WERE dinner. But no, after 45 minutes of dancing, dinner was served. It was delicious.


Shannen would be in heaven, everything but 1 dish was vegetarian.

Then there was more dancing! Fish came around and tried to get his sorry honky co-workers to dance but we all refused. The author of this here blog WOULD HAVE danced if it weren’t for the fact that the author of this here blog was with co-workers and was terrified of ‘hearing about it’ Monday at work.


Fish knows how to get down. The author of this hear blog wishes she did.

Irish Stew - *HOME ENTRY*

It’s been awhile since I did a home entry, hasn’t it?

It’s November, which means that Southern California will get bouts of cold weather in between bouts of really hot weather. And when I say ‘cold’, I mean about 60 - 65 degrees. If you’ve lived here long enough, 60-65 degrees entails falling in love with your sweatshirts (which is honestly the only form of a ‘winter coat’ I have) and eating soup again (ha! I first typed ‘soap’ which spell check wouldn’t have caught and would make you wonder how much of the sun has gotten to my brian. Ha! ‘brain’). All last week it was ‘cold’ (and I’m using quotes to repel nasty comments from my WI readers) so while I was sitting snuggly in my sweatshirt, I thought about making soap (!! SOUP !!) or stew for my new thing this weekend.

After perusing around Allrecipes.com I finally decided on a nice Irish lamb stew because I’ve never cooked lamb before and in fact, I had no idea what it looked like before it was cooked. I know what it looks like when it’s on the big spindle at Greek restaurants and I certainly know what it looks like before it’s dinner, but not raw. By the way, I’m sorry vegetarians. If it’s any consolation, I always manage to convince myself that the lamb I’m eating looks like this:



And not like this:


Please don't eat me.

Basically I like to think of my lamb as Phil Spector, not Mary had a little.



Anyhow, when I first printed out the recipe, I failed to notice that it called for 6 POUNDS of lamb. I think the recipe was under the assumption that I either had my own lamb in the backyard and/or I was attempting to feed 17 children. I obviously cut the recipe in half but still felt a bit awkward asking the butcher at Ralph’s for the 3 pounds and certainly felt that I should of cut the recipe into fourths since it’s only Kevin and me. However, my measurement skillz (with a ‘Z’!) have always been poor (I cringe when they pick that subject in ‘Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader?’ because I will always get the question wrong) and didn’t know if ¼ a teaspoon of thyme would equate to more than me waving the thyme container over the bowl and hope it got the essence of it, so I just halved it.

Here are the ingredients. It’s too long to list so I won’t:



Strange thing about this recipe is that it called for a pound of bacon. First of all, I don’t remember ever having Irish stew that had bacon in it and secondly, I just realized that I never halved the bacon like I did everything else. Seriously, that just occurred to me right now. Oh man, no WONDER why there seems to be as much bacon as there is lamb.


Homer Simpson would be proud.

Anyhow, so I cooked a heart attack’s worth of bacon while Kevin cut up the lamb. We rolled the lamb in some flour (that would be a great line if the lamb was still alive) and browned it in the bacon fat. Added the bacon and lamb to the crock pot and added the beef stock, onions, and garlic. Set the crock pot on high and let cook for an hour and a half.



While that was cooking, I cut up the potatoes and the rest of the onions. I cheated and bought the pre-cut carrots because sometimes I don’t mind paying 27 cents extra to make up for my laziness. I then aligned all the ingredients on the counter so I could give you my Martha Stewart money shot.



After about 45 minutes, I went to check on the stew. It didn’t appear to be simmering like the recipe said that it should. I reviewed the recipe closer only to realize that it said to use a S-tock pot, not a C-rock pot. I think I was so excited to use the crock pot again that my eyes saw ‘ock’ and went for it. This mistake meant that I had to transfer the contents from the crock pot to the stock pot (which in our house we simply refer to as the “big ass pot…you know, for the chili”) and try to boil it instead of simmer to make up some time. Kevin told me there is no ‘making up time’ in cooking, but I didn’t believe him and boiled away.


From Crock pot to Stock pot

Now’s a good time to mention that when Kevin and I cook and there’s some sort of boiling/simmering action going on, we will have a silent flame war. This is something I’ve never mentioned but always noticed….I’ll set the stovetop to around 3, let’s say, because I want it to simmer. I will then walk away to do something else -adjust the volume on the TV, smoke a cigarette, get a glass of water, whatever - and when I come back, Kevin will have turned the knob to 1. He will have walked away by this point, so I’ll put it back to 4…one more to make up for the 1 he had it in. Later, he’ll come by and set it back to 1, so on and so forth until it’s either done or he will exclaim, “do you really want this to boil?”

…which is exactly what happened with the stew. And because the stew took 2 hours to cook, it happened a lot. Regardless, the stew turned out perfectly. It was a bit strong in the lamb flavor the first day, but by the 2nd day it was great.



Oh! I forgot to mention that I added the potatoes, carrots, and onions after awhile, but I’m guessing you figured that out, huh?

IN OTHER NEWS….

I wanted to give a couple of shout outs since I’m here. First, I wanted to say hello to Bux who was gracious enough to bless us with his presence Monday night. It had been about 3 years since I’ve seen him last. With all good friends the conversation and laughing were easy and made 3 years seem like 3 days. He’s also engaged now, which is awesome, because he deserves to be happy. And just between all of us, I really have no recollection of making him buy shoes for a night in LA those many years ago. Not saying it didn’t happen, I just don’t remember it. Thanks Bux! You are always welcome at the Casa de Costa Mesa.

To Bethhead I'd like to say thank you for the awesome knife! Kevin and I realized it was the sharpest knife in our current knife arsenal and were very pleased to have it around.

Last, but not least, I wanted to say hello to my dad who celebrated his birthday this last Sunday. When I spoke to my dad, he was in a Packer bar with the rest of my family watching (what else?) the Packers and….doing Jell-O shots. He made a claim that the Jell-O was going to be good for his fingernails. I think he forgot that Jell-O isn’t good for your fingernails; it’s just MADE of fingernails. I love him regardless. Happy Birthday Dad!

Casino Night - Tustin, CA and Pumpkin Party - Costa Mesa, CA

Kevin is currently watching the Packers vs. Redskins game and so I thought it might be a good time to write. Granted, it’s hard not showing my team colors right now since I am from Wisconsin and the Packers are doing well. But I’m not a huge fan of football and I don’t like to watch the game unless I’m pretty sure the Packers will win, so there you go.

Anyhow, last weekend we were pretty busy. On Friday night, Andrea and Roland invited us to Casino Night, which was a fundraiser for the high school basketball team at the school they both work at. The tickets were $20, and it included a buffet meal and $200 in ‘gambling money’ that you play for tickets to use in the end of the night raffle. I was looking forward to it as I love me some gambling, even if it’s with play money. If there’s ever a sore part in mine and Kevin’s relationship, it’s the fact that I love Vegas and he hates it. Of course he’ll win any Vegas argument due to the fact it’s not logical to piss away your hard earned money on slots and blackjack, but damn, it’s so much fun. But obviously that’s just my opinion.

We met up with Andrea and Roland at the Tustin Inn at about 6 PM Friday night and followed them over to the Community Center. While I realize that this was a fund raiser, it still seemed a bit odd to hold a gambling event in a community center. Just saying. The food was pretty good, but I had a hard time concentrating on what I was eating as all the tables were being set up and all the wonderful raffle prizes were on display. After dinner and meeting all of Andrea and Roland’s fellow teacher friends, we headed over to the Craps table.


Andrea and Roland

I’m not a big fan of craps for the sole fact that I really don’t understand how to play. 7’s are bad…that’s about it. But in a setting like this, it’s a good environment to learn as the craps dealers are patient with you and teach you the game. This is unlike in Vegas where you get scolded every 2 minutes, especially if you are trying to learn craps at 4 in the morning wearing a feather boa and maybe had a wee bit too much to drink.

So we played craps and I kept losing because I didn’t understand what I was supposed to do. I kept at it though, because I really wanted to be the dice roller. When it was my turn to throw the dice, I kept throwing them too hard and one of the dice would land behind the dealer’s chips. Unlike Vegas, if that die happened to be part of a 7 combo, he would let me roll again. If it was a good toss, he’d let it stand. When my turn was finally over, I wandered over to the roulette table….where I lost even more money. OH! Was I getting worried that I wouldn’t have any money left over to buy raffle tickets! I eventually broke down and bought more “money” and played a bit of blackjack, where I did OK, then went back to the craps table because it was almost my turn to roll again.

So you think you can roll again do you?

All in all, I got 8 raffle tickets but didn’t manage to win a single thing. They had a regular auction too, and couldn’t win that either. We did manage to snap up a couple of the centerpieces (which were bags of Starbucks coffee) so it wasn’t all a loss. Thank you Andrea and Roland for a great night!

On Sunday, it was Richard and Squishy’s annual Pumpkin Carving Party. While this isn’t a new thing (since we went last year) it was fun, so I’m going to include it. Richard and Squishy put up close to a $100 of their own money to give out as prizes for the 1^st, 2^nd, and 3^rd place pumpkin winners at their party. About 5 people who don’t do carvings do the judging. Last year I won 3^rd place and got 2 movie tickets. I was really determined this year to place at least 2^nd.



For a couple of weeks before the party, I researched on the internet for pumpkin ideas. Outside of 3-D carving, most of the fancy carvings seemed pretty easy to do. I went through 3 solid ideas before settling on the tricker-treaters idea (as you will see below). I bought two pumpkins, a special carving knife, an exacto knife, a nail punch, mini Christmas lights, and a regular light that changed colors. All in all, I spent about $35 on my idea. It really wasn’t about the prize at that point, I just wanted to win. Richard’s brother always comes up with fantastic ideas so I knew that I had to do something good.



When I got to their house, I was really anxious to start carving. But no one was carving quite yet, so I jittery sat there, had some juice, and tried to make conversation. All I could think about was that damn pumpkin. After a half an hour, I couldn’t take it anymore and asked if it was alright that I start.


Kevin and Richard's brother (!)

So I started carving and got into a zone. People came over and said hi and I’m sure I said hi back and maybe even a ‘how ya doing?’ but I can’t say I heard the response. Carve Pumpkin. Carve Pumpkin. Don’t screw up and break that piece. Carve Pumpkin. ...It’s all that was going through my head. Andrea and Oliver even sat at my table and Oliver was being so cute as usual…but I hardly heard a word.

Mine is the one with the purple lights.

After two hours I was done and pretty happy with the results….until I saw what everyone else had carved up while I was in my zone. There was Frodo (Richard’s brother!), an awesome carving of the Eiffel Tower, a witch mud flap, 3-D floating pumpkin head, a scary cat, just to name a few. While I thought I did OK, I was really nervous over the talent. I was started to wonder if I would even place at all. But when judging was done, I ended up getting 1^st place. I was elated. The $50 dollar 1^st prize was only an added bonus to my happiness. I was so stoked, when we got home I told the neighbor’s cat. I told my cat. I told Kevin over and over, “I won 1^st place!” I was really really happy.


After soaking my pumpkin in water for an hour and rubbing it down with olive oil, I put it in the refrigerator. I was confident that if I could win 1^st place at the party, surely I could place at the pumpkin carving contest at work 3 days later. I actually had a hard time sleeping that night because of my excitement of winning at the work party.

I’m such a foolish girl.


Three days later I trot my award winning pumpkin to the HR office. Part of my confidence was knowing that only 3 pumpkins were submitted last year and only one of them was decent. However, walking into the HR office was a completely different story this year. There were already 6 other pumpkins submitted, and they were all better than mine. There was a pumpkin jail that had a little pumpkin inside of it. There was a 3-D pumpkin. And there was, what would be, the Work Pumpkin Carving Party winner, this thing:

Stupid Burger.

People afterwards tried to console me by saying the burger wasn’t even technically carved, but it was good and creative and it deserved to win. I took my sad little tricker-treater pumpkin to the Harp after work and donated it to that night’s Halloween party. It had a good time at the Harp, and I not only was glad that strangers kept coming up to it and wondering if it was actually real but that the next morning it was still there on the Harp’s front stoop. It was a good Pumpkin (Charlie Brown).