CHOPPED

Someone once said, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”.

That person didn’t have what Dave and I had for dinner tonight.

After what had seemed like hours of perusing all our recipe books I told Dave that I had had enough!

(This type of decision-making process is not limited to creating a menu. Sometimes we will surf Netflix for an hour or more on our weekend evenings in attempts to select the very best movie. To Dave this approach is in line with “the finer things of life”, to me it’s maddening)

In an effort to move things along (and because I know Dave can’t turn down a challenge) I declared that tonight was “Chopped Night”.



(Chopped is a Food Network TV show we occasionally watch where contestants have to create a dish out of ingredients given to them in a basket in a certain amount of time)

I told Dave he could use anything we had in the house but he couldn’t look at any recipe books and dinner had to be completed in an hour.

Now, all of you who think that I just sat idly by; watching him run, sweat, and pull his hair out, well… you would be right.

Looking back, oh how I wish I had stepped in and saved him. Oh how I wish I would have said something. Oh how I wish I had pictures!

Dave’s final dish had three items: Chicken, sauce, and rice.

He’s a pro at making rice.

The chicken held promise. But I became more and more concerned as the list on ingredients grew:

Chicken

Salt

Pepper

Thyme

Oregano

Basil

Garlic

Butter

AMPLE amount of Lemon Juice

Lime Juice

Sprinkled with Parmesan cheese

Dave has never been one to be burdened by measuring. So all ingredients were thrown in a glass baking dish haphazardly.

Although the chicken had me concerned, it was the homemade sauce that really struck fear into my heart:

Cream of Chicken Soup

AMPLE amounts of Lemon juice

Lime Juice

Milk

Corn Starch

Ginger…

Buffalo wing sauce…

And…

Maple Syrup…

Before it all came out of the oven Dave hung his head and pronounced himself- CHOPPED.

All I can say is that Dave makes one great batch of rice.

Black Crickets, Purple Death

Liz's sister Jane came over to our apartment bring Liz some soup the other day. I told her she might not want to come in, unless she wants the Plague.

Jane said, "I don't mind a bunch of crickets." I gave her a blank stare. She gave me a quizzical eyebrow raise.

Turns out, we were both thinking of different plagues.

Jane was talking about the Biblical plagues. Y'know, the plagues featured in The Ten Commandments and The Mummy (and I guess the Bible... in the book of...Judges? Chronicles II?)

I was thinking about the Black Death. The plague that wiped out half of Europe. The plague that would also go on to ravage North Africa and, if Wikipedia is to be believed, was an inspiration for the song Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down. Ok, I made up that last part about the ashes song. It's not on wikipedia, but I swear I've heard it somewhere. Pause while I go edit the post it on Wikipedia.

(Edited the wiki post. So credible, that Wikipedia)

Back to the task at hand. Why was I thinking about the Black Plague? Because for the last three weeks, Lizzie and I have had it. Well, maybe not the Black Plague exactly; I suppose we were visited by its less sinister cousin, once removed. The Purple Plague. Or the Pastel Plague. Not quite black, but nevertheless unwanted. 

The sickness started with me. For three days, I thought I had strep. Symptoms included: daggers and barbed wire sore throat, body ache, fever. I went to the doctor. After keeping me in the waiting room on the butcher paper for, I'm not making this up, an hour and a half, he told me he didn't think I had strep. But he'd run a test and tell me in two days. I gave him the "in two days I'll be dead" look, but he just shrugged it off and went back to doing whatever it is doctors do to make their patients wait for hours on end (he's probably editing wikipedia pages).

Two days later came, and I wasn't dead. Jokes on me, I guess. But the doctor's office did notify me that I did not have strep. I somehow knew this already, because at 3:02  that morning the Purple  Plague mutated into pnemonia, or bronchitis, or whatever it is you call a violent, nuclear cough, lungs turning into a swimming pool of fluid, head stuffed like a pimento-fused green olive, and a general fatigue so fatiguing I felt like I'd turn into a camoflauged army uniform (which, to those who might not get the joke, is also a fatigue. Dah. Now I just ruined it. Not funny if you have to explain).

So no, studying for finals was not fun in this aforementioned condition. But what made it even less fun? Lizzie soon contracted the sickness. Two Heywood's down, none to go. Plague-1. Wymount Apt #731-0.

Lizzie missed three days of work and two days of Relief Society. She's still not feeling 100%. If asked, she'd probably say that she's at 65%. (In fact, I asked her today and she said, "I'm at about 65%).

Although this sickness is The Worst Christmas Ever, I do have things to be grateful for.

The post where I brag about Dave

Isn't this picture hysterical? I truly love it. Dave looks like he's 12, not like he's just finished his mission. Anyway, this picture has significance because Dave applied for and was accepted to, an international externship in Tokyo Japan this coming summer! He will be working with one of the top international law firms, Baker and McKenzie, for 4-6 weeks. I am SO excited for him. He's worked really hard and now he gets to visit his mission land and brush up on his Japanese. He is sick with strep throat right now, but I'm sure on the inside he is jumping with joy.

The Great Debate

Most, if not all, of you know by now that after months of passively searching, I have found a job.

I work for Blendtec. My official title is “International Sales Assistant” but if you ask me to my face I’m likely to reply that I am an “International Account Manager”. The later sounds cooler and more important and I’m all about that…

Since starting my job I have been asked MANY times about which product is better, Blendtec or Vitamix?

I thought I’d take a moment to share my view here and set the record straight.

You may think that because I work for Blendtec I am biased, that I’ve probably never even touched a Vitamix. Not so my dear friends, not so. My parents gave Dave and I a Vitamix for Christmas last year, before I had even considered working at Blendtec. Those 9 months we had with our Vitamix changed our lives, *ahem*, I mean-kitchen, (You know what I’m talking about if you have one of these miracle workers). We fell in love with it!

This August I started working for Blendtec. I worked on the factory floor for a couple of weeks, building blenders to learn how the worked and all the parts and pieces. And of course I have a Blendtec now. The company gives all its employees a reconditioned model to love and cherish.

So, in case you’re interested:



Vitamix Pros:

Spout on the jar which makes pouring the contents very slick.

Dial which allows you to easily control the speed

Vitamix Cons:

It’s BIG and BULKY and HEAVY. It won’t fit on our counter top (under the cupboards) with the Jar on.

Blendtec Pros:

Small base. Easily fits on countertop

Pleasing LCD screen which counts your cycles, reads your programs, and does your cycle count down by seconds.

Pre-programmed buttons with custom cycles for your blending needs. Ex: smoothie cycle, soup cycle, sauces cycle. You get the point. Also because of the buttons you can push it and walk away, no need to baby sit your smoothie.

Blendtec Cons:

No adjustable dial. However, there is and up and down button for the speed- but there is just something comforting about being able to control a machine with a dial…

No spout on the jar

Both Blenders are SUPER easy to clean. The blade is built into the jar so to clean it you fill it with a cup of water and a drop of dish soap and run it like you would make a smoothie. Pour the suds into the sink and rinse and voilà! You’re finished! No taking the blade out to wash and worrying about cutting yourself. Let’s face it, the worst part about making a smoothie is cleaning the blender…

I should mention that these amazing machines do more than smoothies. They both do: Soups, dips, sauces, dressings, ice cream, whole juice and can act as a food processor, grain grinder, bread dough maker etc.

When purchasing one of these blenders it really comes down to a matter of preference based on the pros and cons list I provided above. And either way you look at it-Dave and I run one mean smoothie shop…

We Have Baggage

I’ve never really been a “purse” girl. You know, multiple purses to accent a plethora of outfits. A purse to me is not so much an accessory as it is a necessity. And to be truthful, I’m pretty hard on the purse I do have. I fill it with all sorts of junk-wallet, cell phone, medicine bag, make up bag, ipod, camera, oral health bag (including floss, tooth brush, small tube of tooth paste), random thoughts note book, occasionally the novel I’m sucked into, lotion, etc. etc. etc. Yes my purse weighs approximately 10 lbs, but it has everything I need. I usually replace it every two years and by then the mere weight of the contents has taken its toll on the straps and they are hanging on for dear life.

I tell you this to emphasize the point that I am not a “Bag person”. However much I wish I could rationalize buying multiple purses to compliment every outfit, it just isn’t practical for me and my heavy-purse habits.

My dear husband however IS a “bag person”. “Explain” you say? Sure.
This summer the sprinkler under our window had a broken head and flooded our apartment. In an effort to clean up the mess I started going through our things on the floor. What I found amazed and astonished me. No less than 10 bags-all belonging to Dave.

When he got home I confronted him about his addiction. He very defensively started protesting, insisting that each bag was a necessity. Necessity: something necessary or indispensable: food, shelter, and other necessities of life.

He had a bag for the gym, a bag for when he goes swimming, multiple bags for lap tops, a library bag, a car bag, a bag for shorter trips, a bag for longer trips, a garment bag, a couple of actual back-packs (I count them as bags, he does not), and yes, a bag to hold all the other bags in!

I was horrified! Wasn’t I supposed to be the one with the bag fetish?!
The one time Dave and I went yard-sale-ing he bought the garment bag. Later, he spotted a travel bag for male toiletries. I put my foot down and it resulted in both of us needing about 30 minutes to cool off before we could reasonably discuss the issue. Clearly Dave feels strongly about a good bag-find, and clearly I do not.

I requested Dave get rid of half his bags after the sprinkler incident. He got rid of 3. But he just ended up taking them to his parents’ house. That means they’ll find their way back to us eventually.

Last night as we were falling asleep I asked Dave what he wanted for Christmas: An overnight Bag.

Harry Potter-The Prequel

Harry Potter: The Prequel by J.K. Rowling

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I hate to give Harry Potter anything less than 5 stars; and perhaps that generous rating is due to nostalgia more than anything else. This "essay" is very short. 800 words written for a charity. Like so many before me, I too could only wish for the elusive prequel. This piece was a fun glimpse into the world before Harry was born but really only teases you. For those loyal to Harry, I suggest downloading the link. But really, you can hardly enjoy it before it's over.



View all my reviews

Scrabble Wars

You’d think that someone who minored in E-N-G-L-I-S-H, who reads more than anyone else I know, and who is the “Writer” part of “A Reader and a Writer” would like word games. Not so. Dave very much dislikes S-C-R-A-B-B-L-E. This is a problem because I L-O-V-E it.
Over for course of the past few W-E-E-K-S Dave has taken pity on me since because of his long absences from home I can officially declare myself a law-school W-I-D-O-W. His mercy has extended so far that he and I P-L-A-Y this beloved game at least once a week now.
The only P-R-O-B-L-E-M is that I never W-I-N! Dave almost always annihilates me! Last night his winning word was W-E-E-V-I-L-S. Weevils? Seriously?!
I’ve started to catch on to his T-R-I-C-K-S. He maximizes on word endings “ed, ing, s, etc” and looks to play only on Double word or triple letter spaces. And why is it that I seem to always get a row of tiles with only V-O-W-E-L-S?
These are the woes of a scrabble solider.
But I will N-O-T give up.
We’ve come up with a pretty ingenious C-O-M-P-R-O-M-I-S-E: we now play scrabble when we watch football. It’s a plan that makes both of us H-A-P-P-Y.