Happy Sundry Sunday

Weekend adventures in menus, bargain hunting, fashion, and vitamins. Finished book and found some great sayings. Sharing …..

Menus

Each week is more kookadoodledoo than the last so it is necessary for me to cook on Sunday. Here’s what’s on the menu for next week:

  • Portobella mushrooms stuffed with three cheeses and topped with pancetta
  • Collard greens, slightly braised in garlic, lemon olive oil, and chicken stock, topped with prosciutto
  • Chicken fillets, stuffed with pesto cream cheese, then wrapped in turkey bacon
  • Tuna nicoise pasta salad
  • Potato chips, Fritos, Peeps and caffeine (requires no cooking)

Bargain Hunting

Less than $50, including pashmina. Rah!

After donating most of my closet to Goodwill, I was in a bit of a pickle re: upcoming events. But I am a determined lass (long in the tooth for a lass, but determined). Some of bargains above might go with my favorite bargains below:

Maxi colorblock dress, $78, huge scarf/wrap, $6

Needed yet another outfit, so while at work at Cheeky Vintage, I found a severely cool short black top from who knows where. Then I put it with a Chartreuse raw silk tea-length skirt from the closet of a Parisian or it was made in Paris – whatever! It’s smashing! The photo below does not do the skirt color justice – it is outstanding!

Aucon de vos affaires, mes amis

Vitamins

My dad has been having more back issues, bless his bones. Saint ShayShay suggested Pantothenic acid, which is a big fat word for B5. She swears it unclenched her neck and made her dad jump up and dance a jig after a skiing injury. DO NOT PUT ANYTHING IN YOUR MOUTH WITHOUT CONSULTING YOUR DOCTOR. That being said, the best price for B5 was at Whole Foods!?! There’s also a whole thing going on (so late to this party) about taking collagen in the form of gelatin pills; supposedly, this activity provides good hair, strong nails and less rickety joints/joint pain. Gelatin (see Knox Unflavored Gelatin), by definition, is made from the proteins derived from the bones and skin of animals (not a veggie situation). All the info I could find said no animals were killed for gelatin. Jury’s out, as far as I am concerned. I mean, the animals weren’t alive when the proteins were derived. Need to take ADHD vitamin and keep nose out of this.

Rules of Civility

Finished this and have changed my mind. Maybe. After finishingThe Paris Wife, set in the 1920’s, it was hard for me to jump into Rules‘ Manhattan of 1938. Places so different, themes so similar … jazz, art, and lots of booze. Please put more emphasis on first two; these books are very good.

Favorite New Sayings

Last Friday, OneKingsLane.com featured all sorts of art. One section, Typography & Letterpress, caught my eye. Word art. These were my favorites:

“The only zen you find at the top of the mountain is the zen you bring up there.”

“Breathe in the future, Breathe out the past.”

“I do believe there is time for another adventure.”

“Go and wake up your luck.”

Off to shake up my luck. It’s already awake.

Later.

Just Thinking Kooky Thinks

Hello, hello, hello! Are Mondays ever not maniac? If so, don’t tell me.

My dad had a successful surgery today. Rah! Sitting in the waiting room with my mom gave me much time for thought. Scary, right? I’m thinking …..

  1. Why is Arnold Schwarzenegger such an enormous idiot? I always wondered why Maria Shriver would even speak to him, much less marry him and have some of his children. I bet Mel Gibson and Charlie Sheen are doing the happy dance. And I hope Maria makes out like a bandit in her divorce settlement.
  2. Why do hospitals with enormous cardiac units serve fried everything in their cafeterias? Obviously, to keep the patients coming BUT the medical people were eating that stuff as well. At least they were today. I had no  choice but to select sushi. Used to love it until I read a book where the guy called it “expensive bait”.
  3. One woman in the waiting room called the entire phone book from her small town to report on her mother. Her voice carried. Half the people in the town obviously didn’t know her mother but promised to meet her sometime; the others didn’t know mother had surgery but were mighty glad all went well. TMI.
  4. Took my closet to Pung, my favorite person who happens to own a dry cleaners. Her three-year-old daughter took 12 photos of my right ear with her mother’s cell phone. I have elf ears – no points, but small. Like my nose.  Which reminded me that I LOVE big noses. Not the crooked witch bumpy kind, just a big old schnozz. They are sexy on men. And probably women, too, but I don’t swim in that pool.
  5. When waiting room blabbermouth was quiet, my mother said, “Your middle name is Randal, you know.” Wherever that came from, I don’t know. I just said, “I seem to recall that.” For the last 100 years…..

Stupid Songs I Remembered I Hate While Waiting in the Waiting Room

  • “Baby I’m A-Want You” (I’m thinking that isn’t English)
  • “Never Gonna Give You Up” (stalker song)
  • “Balls to the Wall” ( sounds uncomfortable)
  • “You and Me and a Dog Named Boo” (poor Boo)
  • “Dancing on the Ceiling” (bad trip)
  • “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp” (do tell)
  • “Pardon Me, I’ve Got to Kill Someone”(pardon me while I run like a scalded dog in the opposite direction)
  • “Tell Laura I Love Her” (tell her yourself; who’s Laura?)
  • “Let Me Tickle Your Fancy” (methinks NOT)

Now I must prepare for a bank presentation I have tomorrow. I’m going to present them with an ultimatum. Show Me the Money or Show Me the Money. The bank is bus stop for the lost and the insane – that’s the staff. Which changes every week, I swear. Have been in there no less than five times to clear up all sorts of mistakes; they NEVER fix them. Because the staff changes each week. After demanding to see the manager of the day, I may quote John Imhoff, who said, “Any organization is like a septic tank; the really big chunks rise to the top.” I will get satisfaction this time, even if I shown my money – and the door. Grrrrrrrrrrr.

I need chocolate.

Later.

Massage Mayhem

Just mentioning the word “massage table” might give you the idea that I am filthy rich and eating my weight in bonbons. When I’m not on the massage table.  And you would be wrong. You would also be wrong if you thought I was at one of those *wink wink* massage places. Just so you know.

I “accidentally” signed up for a monthly massage (reduced rate) at a massage therapy spot nearby. I say “accidentally” because I don’t want to be rude. And the first visit was great. They charge me for a monthly massage, whether I’m dead or alive. I thought I could cancel easily … but the fine print says I must send a handwritten letter in a bottle on the second day after a blue moon. Aggghhhhhhh! I thought it would be a good idea to cash in on my monthly “purchase”; am residing in Stressville and, to quote my dad, currently, “If I didn’t have bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” I thought a massage would help. I am an idiot. A polite idiot, but idiot nonetheless.

“Jacey” took me to my room where I disrobed and jumped under the covers. He returned, asked me what type of massage therapy I wanted, and I was VERY CLEAR that it would be shoulders, neck, and arms ONLY.  And I began to relax as he removed my shoulders from my ears. Ten minutes in, I was r-e-l-a-x-i-n-g.

The next thing I know, “Jacey” moved to my feet. And the conversation in my head went this way for the next 50 minutes:

“I HATE feet. What is he doing? Feet are ugly. Useful. But ugly. How can he confuse feet with shoulders?”

Oh, God. He has a foot fetish. What is he doing? This is weird. Get away from my feet or I will kill you.”

Then he wrapped my feet in hot towels and told me to flip over. I thought maybe now that I was face up, he’d snap out of it. My mistake. He put an eye pillow over my peepers, then proceeded to drape the covers so that my right foot, leg and almost my “privacy” was exposed.

“Excuse me, freak, but that is not a shoulder. What is he doing? Get away from my privacy. I’m supposed to relax. This sucks!”

He returned to foot fetish land, working that right foot for all it’s worth; then regrouping and groping the left one.

“What is the freaking deal with my feet? I am NOT relaxed, I am in a misery. And am too chicken to yell at you, you perv!”

Finally, he covered my feet. Then he came to the head of the table and ruffled my hair, as you would a little boy or a dog. WTH? And then he left.

“God is good. He’s gone. I am free!”

It was the second weirdest, worst massage ever. Second only to the one where the massage therapist had a hang nail and when she was finished, my back looked like a barber pole.

I need to grow some. When my life luck changes. Hopefully sooner than …

Later.

Sheesh.

Chicken Soup for the Droll

Good Grief! It’s Monday, again? Am so ashamed of myself regarding my lack of writing discipline over the past week. But my time spent elsewhere was so …. so …. typically UNUSUAL.

The week started out fairly normal. Cooked my brains out, ran around hither and yon – typical holiday M.O. Then it started to get weird …

– My dear friend lost her sweet mom; there is a legacy of grace in that gene pool.
-First year I didn’t spend the holiday with my girls. They have two parents so they were with their dad. I missed them, but it was a good day. Drama-free ….
– Cooking Partner got really sick with a cold but made a remarkable recovery just before he had to leave for a hunting trip. A miracle, I say!
– He didn’t leave me empty-handed. I got the cold!
– No worries. Except it’s Black Friday. Bah, Humbug! Had two laptops (wastrel) so I’d sold one, returning it to “factory” mode. While combing the internet on old laptop, I saw that Apple was having a sale. Which is about as common as a debt-free American. And I’d sold the laptop so I could get an iPad for work. Downed a bottle of cough syrup, left the house and was back, with iPad in hand, in 45 minutes. The Force was with me. Or so I thought.
– Shimmied right up to old laptop, downloaded latest crud, put iPad on to sync. Laptop FAIL. Forever. Which is fabulous because now I have nothing to sync my iStuff with. Drank another bottle of cough syrup just because. Because I’d sold a laptop that worked and now I was laptopless. (see “screwed”) With a cold.
– Woke up fretting over above. But the Force really was with me. As I was walking Cooper, I REMEMBERED all those points I’d accumulated on a credit card. An hour later, I’d traded points for new laptop. I’ll believe it when I see it.
– Couldn’t attend funeral because of cold, so decided to pull out decorations. Instead, I pulled out my back. Sent emergency email to my back doctor’s wife (don’t ask). Located all my back accoutrement (“corset”, Therma-something heat pads, etc.) and limped around the house. Never heard from anyone in doctor’s family. Must find new doctor. Another bottle of cough syrup down the hatch.

And here we are, it’s Monday all over again. Which is fine. Am in a good mood because everything really does have a way of working out. Or at least it seems that way after 12 gallons of cough syrup.

Later.
*Cough syrup part isn’t true; don’t even have any in my house*
**Forgive any/all grammar issues; posting on iPad is ridic*