today I received my first request for a review and subsequent blog post. I am noting this for a few reasons:
1. this confirms that someone other than my husband, friends, and a couple other bloggers sometimes, occasionally, read this blog;
2. it was mommy related -- I am officially known as a mommy-blogger to the internet world;
3. I'm not doing the review.
I've been following (a little) all the craziness about bloggers giving reviews for free, pay, or stuff, and really feel this is not an area I want to get into. it appears confusing, stressful, and something that really divides bloggers into cliques. I did not start this blog to become part of that world, but to connect with other people like myself, that just want a little electronic encouragement once in a while.
however, it did feel great to be noticed. I won't lie. a little part of me felt that popularity-craving bone in my body quiver with excitement. a random person likes my blog and wants my opinion on something? and thinks I have enough readers for a review on my blog to be something a business-owner craves? awesome.
maybe this is the start of something big. maybe I am on my way to stardom. maybe next month I will double my hits to 2000.
or maybe some random dude found my blog and took a shot at some free press.
either way, I like when my bones quiver.
11.24.2009
11.20.2009
Soup Day
It was March 22, 2004 and my roommate Sam and I were recovering from celebrating her birthday the night before. and the night before that. we decided to cook. Sam was making bbq chicken. I was making Minnesota Wild Rice soup from the Book of Soups mentioned here.
Sam's phone rings -- of course she would like to hang out (her new love interest); of course he can bring his roommate; and by the way, we're making a TON of food.
not long after, the boys arrive: Aram, who I had met, and his roommate, Tate. Sam's chicken was done first, and everyone had a taste but Tate. he was waiting for soup.
as the soup finished, and was devoured, the four of us chatted, listened to Tate sing and play his guitar, and generally had a good time.
we did not have a couch at the time, or many chairs for that matter, but I remember sitting somewhere where I was able to inch very closely to Tate, almost touching, like we were 14-years-old and knees touching meant you were dating. I was so nervous around him, and tried to laugh at his every joke. I was worried I looked frumpy in my baggy t-shirt and he didn't think I was hot.
but as Tate left early to another engagement, he requested soup and in all my 50's housewife glory, I packed some up and sent him on his way. without a knee touch. or even a handshake.
*sigh*
the next day, Sam came home to tell me she had left a note on Tate and Aram's coffee table reading, call Abby for "soup", with my phone number. apparently, Tate had talked to Aram about how he liked me (he likes me, he likes me!), who passed the info to Sam, who took it upon herself to make sure we met again.
three days later, the boys were back at our house hangin' out. Tate and I stayed up all night talking. and kissed as he left for work at 6am. and as the fairy tales say, we lived happily ever after.
the point of this story? besides the fact that it's really sweet to recount the meeting of the love of your life?
Soup Day.
since that time, March 22 has been known as Soup Day. every year, we invite all our friends over to share a giant pot of the soup, and force them to hear over and over how we met and how much we love each other, and give each other googly eyes and are the annoying cute couple in the room.
we are not of any religion, and our culture is very white, middle-class American. we feel we need holidays to celebrate so we are creating our own, and this is our first. it is a day and tradition we hope our children will continue with their families long after we are gone as a celebration of the day the family began and the soup that made it happen.
as a side note, I have found an added bonus to only making the soup once, maybe twice a year -- I haven't memorized the recipe. every time I make the soup, I also get to see this:
(added to the cookbook in time for the first Soup Day)
Sam's phone rings -- of course she would like to hang out (her new love interest); of course he can bring his roommate; and by the way, we're making a TON of food.
not long after, the boys arrive: Aram, who I had met, and his roommate, Tate. Sam's chicken was done first, and everyone had a taste but Tate. he was waiting for soup.
as the soup finished, and was devoured, the four of us chatted, listened to Tate sing and play his guitar, and generally had a good time.
we did not have a couch at the time, or many chairs for that matter, but I remember sitting somewhere where I was able to inch very closely to Tate, almost touching, like we were 14-years-old and knees touching meant you were dating. I was so nervous around him, and tried to laugh at his every joke. I was worried I looked frumpy in my baggy t-shirt and he didn't think I was hot.
but as Tate left early to another engagement, he requested soup and in all my 50's housewife glory, I packed some up and sent him on his way. without a knee touch. or even a handshake.
*sigh*
the next day, Sam came home to tell me she had left a note on Tate and Aram's coffee table reading, call Abby for "soup", with my phone number. apparently, Tate had talked to Aram about how he liked me (he likes me, he likes me!), who passed the info to Sam, who took it upon herself to make sure we met again.
three days later, the boys were back at our house hangin' out. Tate and I stayed up all night talking. and kissed as he left for work at 6am. and as the fairy tales say, we lived happily ever after.
the point of this story? besides the fact that it's really sweet to recount the meeting of the love of your life?
Soup Day.
since that time, March 22 has been known as Soup Day. every year, we invite all our friends over to share a giant pot of the soup, and force them to hear over and over how we met and how much we love each other, and give each other googly eyes and are the annoying cute couple in the room.
we are not of any religion, and our culture is very white, middle-class American. we feel we need holidays to celebrate so we are creating our own, and this is our first. it is a day and tradition we hope our children will continue with their families long after we are gone as a celebration of the day the family began and the soup that made it happen.
as a side note, I have found an added bonus to only making the soup once, maybe twice a year -- I haven't memorized the recipe. every time I make the soup, I also get to see this:
11.16.2009
random thoughts this week
I love Portland because of all the people commuting on bikes in the rain.
without rain gear.
HD ate a piece of broccoli!
study or play with my kids?
that is a lot of ginger.
I hate writing essays.
I never win anything.
Penny does love me!
thinking of Tate gives me warm fuzzies.
should I grow my hair out?
Blue ate the tiger's feet.
I spend too much time cooking.
how is it there's never enough money?
I hate this class.
cow farts contribute to global warming.
why can't she be without me without tears?
I love my life.
without rain gear.
HD ate a piece of broccoli!
study or play with my kids?
that is a lot of ginger.
I hate writing essays.
I never win anything.
Penny does love me!
thinking of Tate gives me warm fuzzies.
should I grow my hair out?
Blue ate the tiger's feet.
I spend too much time cooking.
how is it there's never enough money?
I hate this class.
cow farts contribute to global warming.
why can't she be without me without tears?
I love my life.
11.11.2009
cooking
yesterday I made an amazing Indonesian chicken, noodle and potato soup called soto ayam. I got the recipe from a wonderful soup book called Book of Soups, put out by the Culinary Institute of America. I've made many soups from this book to great success, and someday I will write about the soup that is now celebrated on our Soup Day.
however, I needed ginger for the soto ayam. fresh ginger. I went to the Asian market down the block (jealous I'm so close to one? you should be!) and got some ginger. the smallest package. of three giant roots. for those of you familiar with cooking with ginger, you know that you only need a tiny piece per recipe, usually. but since it is used in just about every Asian dish around, it follows that Asian markets sell it in bulk only. and it was $1. awesomely cheap.
the point of this incredibly long story: I have a TON of ginger I need to use.
any ideas?
another quandary: in making the soup, I needed a couple hard-boiled eggs. so I boiled some eggs. and peeling them is impossible. this has been happening to me forever. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. all the instructions I have are: cover eggs with cold water; bring to boil; remove from heat, cover, and let sit 10 minutes; rinse with cold water.
am I doing something wrong?
I heard somewhere that if the shell doesn't come off easily, the eggs are not cooked correctly. true? I love hard-boiled eggs but am really close to giving up on them forever. this is becoming too troublesome.
help please?
however, I needed ginger for the soto ayam. fresh ginger. I went to the Asian market down the block (jealous I'm so close to one? you should be!) and got some ginger. the smallest package. of three giant roots. for those of you familiar with cooking with ginger, you know that you only need a tiny piece per recipe, usually. but since it is used in just about every Asian dish around, it follows that Asian markets sell it in bulk only. and it was $1. awesomely cheap.
the point of this incredibly long story: I have a TON of ginger I need to use.
any ideas?
another quandary: in making the soup, I needed a couple hard-boiled eggs. so I boiled some eggs. and peeling them is impossible. this has been happening to me forever. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. all the instructions I have are: cover eggs with cold water; bring to boil; remove from heat, cover, and let sit 10 minutes; rinse with cold water.
am I doing something wrong?
I heard somewhere that if the shell doesn't come off easily, the eggs are not cooked correctly. true? I love hard-boiled eggs but am really close to giving up on them forever. this is becoming too troublesome.
help please?
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