No snark today. Just some good cheap, easy, quick recipes I thought I'd share.
Since I'm home with Claire on my own in the evening, it is really hard to cook a good meal. I'm exhausted and she wants to insert small objects into the electrical sockets while I'm not looking. So I like recipes that 1) are two for ones 2) get cooked in the crockpot 3) make tons of leftovers and 4) don't require expensive or exotic ingredients.
Here is one that I love (and I did this weekend) that is Asian inspired. Because no one cooks Chinese like a Southern woman.
Two-fer Meal:
Asian Chicken Tacos ($7 for about 15 tacos)
Chicken & Veggie Egg Rolls ($5.50 for about 15 egg rolls)
Morning:
Crockpot for 8 Hours:
2 large chicken breasts (or 3-4 small ones) ($4ish--buy on sale and freeze)
1/2 bottle BBQ sauce ($.50)
cover with water
Evening --- Meal #1 Asian Chicken Tacos:
Crockpot chicken
1/4c. BBQ sauce ($.25)
handful cilantro ($.50)
1/2 bag pre-shredded cole slaw mix (no sauce) ($.75)
1/8 c. Asian salad dressing (Kraft makes a toasted sesame one that is good and widely available) ($.50)
corn tortillas ($1.50)
1. Fork shred chicken. It cooked so long it should fall apart.
2. Remove and store about 3/4 c. chicken for Egg Rolls.
3. Add about 1/4c BBQ sauce to shredded chicken. Set aside.
4. Chop a handful of cilantro. Add to half the cole slaw mix. Mix with 1/8 c. Asian Sesame Dressing.
5. Warm corn tortillas
6. Fill tortillas with chicken mix and top with slaw.
Meal #2- Chicken Veggie Egg Rolls
1/4 onion - chopped fine ($.25)
2 ribs celery - chopped fine ($.25)
1 carrot - grated ($.25) ---there is some in the mix, so skip if you don't have it on hand
2T butter
1/2 bag cole slaw ($.75)
soy sauce
sesame oil (if on hand)
egg roll wrappers ($2)
frying oil ($1)
1. Saute onion, celery, and carrot in 2 tablespoons butter until soft.
2. Add remaining half bag of cole slaw mix, add 1/4 c. water to steam. Cook until soft
3. Add about 4 tablespoons of soy sauce & a little sesame oil if you have it on hand
4. Finely chop reserved chicken and mix it in. Remove from heat
5. Roll into egg roll wrappers; sealing with a moistened finger.
6. Heat about 1 inch of oil in a pan on medium heat. Cook egg rolls in small batches until golden brown. Makes about 15 --- -and they are good reheated even if they aren't still crispy.
For dipping, I don't like any of the Sweet & Sour sauces available in the grocery store. Soooo...when Claire gets McNuggets I request Sweet & Sour for dipping. Then keep it in the fridge until egg roll time. There is a gray area between unethical and frugal don't you think?
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Inked
The obsession began almost 4 years ago. Being five-months pregnant Brad dragged me to a dirty tattoo parlor on the East side of Fort Worth.
Okay, so actually Brad said he was going to get a tattoo while I was getting my hair cut and I BEGGED him to let me go so he couldn't do anything crazy. But that is close to being dragged, right? And might I add, while tattoo studios aren't known for their upscale clients and sparkling facilities, Randy Adam's studio has cleaner bathrooms than the Babies R Us.
Brad had a small ying-yang tattoo with fluidity arrows in yellow and gold on his shoulder when we met. Now, facing the end of his life being "cool" after having a baby he wanted to have his tattoo added on to. I was TERRIFIED! He didn't know what he wanted and I didn't want him all scarred up with a picture of Carmen Miranda on his bicep. However, the very skilled artist added some nice flames and re-did the bland monochromatic of the original work and I was mesmerized. I've wanted a tattoo ever since.
It came up at work this summer. One of the teens at Academy was saying she wanted ivy up her side from her hip to armpit. Very pretty, but I interjected, "If you ever plan on having babies, you might wait. Otherwise it will look like a plant that hasn't been watered in a month." She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the old woman I have become and counters that "you don't stretch on your side when you get pregnant." No. No, you don't. I was wrong. I'll help you pay for it even. Let's go after work.
So any place on my body that will stretch or sag is off limits. I also don't like other body parts because they don't work for me. I have a square build, so no shoulders. That is too manly. I'm not big of foot tats either. Unless I want a moon man jumpping into a crater, the thighs are strictly off-limits. And if I want anything on my bikini line it will need to meld with the Van Gogh-esque squiggle lines of stretchmarks. Maybe a nice Edvard Munch "The Scream". That might work nicely.
I wear my hair in a pony most of the time, so the neck isn't going to work. Not to mention I get cysts there, so I get sliced open by my doctor alot. I can't imagine having a Tweety bird on my neck only to have him decapitated by my dermatologist. I'd have to go in and getting another tattoo of Sylvester with a bloody knife added next to him.
In addition to where, I need a what. It has to have meaning -- either deep or ironic -- to fit me. I don't like cartoons or verses or even other language symbols. Do you think Asians have English tattoos on their chest? It makes me wonder if they just like the way the letters MEAT look and have them stamped on their bodies.
A friend asked what my favorite book was to find inspiration, but somehow "Team Edward" seems a little dated and fickle. I mean, what if I decide later I'm more of a werewolf girl?
So help a girl out. You know me better than I know myself. Give me a what and a where. I promise to consider it....even if I know good and well I will never follow through on any of it.
Okay, so actually Brad said he was going to get a tattoo while I was getting my hair cut and I BEGGED him to let me go so he couldn't do anything crazy. But that is close to being dragged, right? And might I add, while tattoo studios aren't known for their upscale clients and sparkling facilities, Randy Adam's studio has cleaner bathrooms than the Babies R Us.
Brad had a small ying-yang tattoo with fluidity arrows in yellow and gold on his shoulder when we met. Now, facing the end of his life being "cool" after having a baby he wanted to have his tattoo added on to. I was TERRIFIED! He didn't know what he wanted and I didn't want him all scarred up with a picture of Carmen Miranda on his bicep. However, the very skilled artist added some nice flames and re-did the bland monochromatic of the original work and I was mesmerized. I've wanted a tattoo ever since.
It came up at work this summer. One of the teens at Academy was saying she wanted ivy up her side from her hip to armpit. Very pretty, but I interjected, "If you ever plan on having babies, you might wait. Otherwise it will look like a plant that hasn't been watered in a month." She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the old woman I have become and counters that "you don't stretch on your side when you get pregnant." No. No, you don't. I was wrong. I'll help you pay for it even. Let's go after work.
So any place on my body that will stretch or sag is off limits. I also don't like other body parts because they don't work for me. I have a square build, so no shoulders. That is too manly. I'm not big of foot tats either. Unless I want a moon man jumpping into a crater, the thighs are strictly off-limits. And if I want anything on my bikini line it will need to meld with the Van Gogh-esque squiggle lines of stretchmarks. Maybe a nice Edvard Munch "The Scream". That might work nicely.
I wear my hair in a pony most of the time, so the neck isn't going to work. Not to mention I get cysts there, so I get sliced open by my doctor alot. I can't imagine having a Tweety bird on my neck only to have him decapitated by my dermatologist. I'd have to go in and getting another tattoo of Sylvester with a bloody knife added next to him.
In addition to where, I need a what. It has to have meaning -- either deep or ironic -- to fit me. I don't like cartoons or verses or even other language symbols. Do you think Asians have English tattoos on their chest? It makes me wonder if they just like the way the letters MEAT look and have them stamped on their bodies.
A friend asked what my favorite book was to find inspiration, but somehow "Team Edward" seems a little dated and fickle. I mean, what if I decide later I'm more of a werewolf girl?
So help a girl out. You know me better than I know myself. Give me a what and a where. I promise to consider it....even if I know good and well I will never follow through on any of it.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
There She Is....Miss America
Like most little girls, I grew up watching the Miss America Pageant on TV and wondering what life would be like when I was their age. Now, at 31, I still watch and wonder what life will be like when I am their age --- because they look like they are pushing 40.
When Miss Tennessee's age pops up at the bottom of the screen as 19 years old, I am dead shocked. Her bleach blond, over-teased hair with an orange tan, sinewy muscles, decorated with enough eye liner to make an 8th grade girl jealous and a shade of red lipstick only my grandmother could love make her look like a tramped up trophy wife of a car wash magnate. I didn't see one in the competition last night that looked under the age of 25 --- and I was being generous. Most of them looked like they were in their late 30's and weren't dealing with their aging. Add to that the fact that their teeth are so over whitened they look inhuman, and they just look odd.
Don't get me wrong. Their bodies are pretty smoking. I don't have the guts to get up there in a swimsuit. (No, literally, I don't have the guts. My gut is all squishy and white. They have very nice guts you could probably bounce a quarter off.) But the Miss America organization has, for several years, put limitations on the swimsuits that make them look even more off. They have a "no side-boob" policy so the swimwear looks quite "industrial." If they are going to make these girls prance around in heals and a bikini, at least let them pick one that looks good!
But maybe letting them chose wouldn't be the best idea. The winner, Miss Wisconsin, chose a fabulous black evening gown with lace top and cap sleeves. The back was to die for. However, Miss Alabama showed a little less style. The kind of style that Clinton and Stacy normally intervene in.
I screamed, "Oh no! That is a Christmas tree topper, not a shoulder adornment!" Brad said, "She can scrub all that make-up off with that loofah when she's done." This picture doesn't quite do it justice.
After the first hour I start to lose interest, but the talent segment was surprisingly good. If I were in the pageant, I would have to enter my talent as snarky blogging. I was pleased there wasn't so much bad singing (yes, there was some). Most of the talents, I have derived, are things the girls did until 6th grade. Then a few years later, when they enter the pageant circuit, they have to have a talent, so they pick it back up. Hence, all the horrible interpretive dance and bad pointe ballet. Unfortunately, Miss Texas, picked a lovely talent that she looked horrible doing.
You really should think twice before picking a talent that has you looking like Montgomery Burns. She was all hunched over and her man-hands were all pointy. Although, I have to give her mad props for working the pedals in spikes and chiffon.
Later in the evening, Claire started throwing a cross between a screaming tantrum fit and a mosh pit dance. Daddy threw down the, "What in the world are you screaming about!" She replied she was doing a dance and singing. It was the "Tomato Pup." We laughed as she threw her arms around and moaned and screamed. Brad and i looked at each other like she might have completely lost it. After about 10 minutes, Brad put it together..."Are you singing Opera like that girl?" (Tomato Pup? Opera? You only notice the similarity when you have a preschooler) Yes! She was.
All the contestants talk about how they are role models. Well, congratulations. You have modeled to my daughter to wear way too much makeup and how to sing the Tomato Pup. Thanks for the fun of the 2012 pageant.
When Miss Tennessee's age pops up at the bottom of the screen as 19 years old, I am dead shocked. Her bleach blond, over-teased hair with an orange tan, sinewy muscles, decorated with enough eye liner to make an 8th grade girl jealous and a shade of red lipstick only my grandmother could love make her look like a tramped up trophy wife of a car wash magnate. I didn't see one in the competition last night that looked under the age of 25 --- and I was being generous. Most of them looked like they were in their late 30's and weren't dealing with their aging. Add to that the fact that their teeth are so over whitened they look inhuman, and they just look odd.
Don't get me wrong. Their bodies are pretty smoking. I don't have the guts to get up there in a swimsuit. (No, literally, I don't have the guts. My gut is all squishy and white. They have very nice guts you could probably bounce a quarter off.) But the Miss America organization has, for several years, put limitations on the swimsuits that make them look even more off. They have a "no side-boob" policy so the swimwear looks quite "industrial." If they are going to make these girls prance around in heals and a bikini, at least let them pick one that looks good!
But maybe letting them chose wouldn't be the best idea. The winner, Miss Wisconsin, chose a fabulous black evening gown with lace top and cap sleeves. The back was to die for. However, Miss Alabama showed a little less style. The kind of style that Clinton and Stacy normally intervene in.
I screamed, "Oh no! That is a Christmas tree topper, not a shoulder adornment!" Brad said, "She can scrub all that make-up off with that loofah when she's done." This picture doesn't quite do it justice.After the first hour I start to lose interest, but the talent segment was surprisingly good. If I were in the pageant, I would have to enter my talent as snarky blogging. I was pleased there wasn't so much bad singing (yes, there was some). Most of the talents, I have derived, are things the girls did until 6th grade. Then a few years later, when they enter the pageant circuit, they have to have a talent, so they pick it back up. Hence, all the horrible interpretive dance and bad pointe ballet. Unfortunately, Miss Texas, picked a lovely talent that she looked horrible doing.
You really should think twice before picking a talent that has you looking like Montgomery Burns. She was all hunched over and her man-hands were all pointy. Although, I have to give her mad props for working the pedals in spikes and chiffon.Later in the evening, Claire started throwing a cross between a screaming tantrum fit and a mosh pit dance. Daddy threw down the, "What in the world are you screaming about!" She replied she was doing a dance and singing. It was the "Tomato Pup." We laughed as she threw her arms around and moaned and screamed. Brad and i looked at each other like she might have completely lost it. After about 10 minutes, Brad put it together..."Are you singing Opera like that girl?" (Tomato Pup? Opera? You only notice the similarity when you have a preschooler) Yes! She was.
All the contestants talk about how they are role models. Well, congratulations. You have modeled to my daughter to wear way too much makeup and how to sing the Tomato Pup. Thanks for the fun of the 2012 pageant.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Saving Money....or How I Cheat My Family
I am a horrible cheapskate. My mom always said I could pinch a penny so tight you could see through it. I coupon and bargain shop, and I really enjoy it. Sometimes it goes a little too far.
You know it is bad when you take money advice from Roseanne Barr. I remember this episode from the show in the 90's where Roseanne gets caught by John pouring store brand "CoCo Charms" into the empty CoCo Puff's box. She tells him she's been using the same box for years and the kids don't know the difference.
Here is my interpretation:
The premium stuff in the carafe is $3 when you can find it on sale! The frozen concentrate is $1.87, plus, I don't have to wag home that heavy bottle. Sure, I could save another $.50 if I got store brand, but orange juice companies use personalized flavor-ants to ensure consistency. That is why Minute Made always takes like Minute Made. Name brand ensures my family doesn't catch on to my scam. (And I'm pretty sure they don't bother to read my blog, so we are good.)
After making my fake-out juice, I went to Dollar Tree to get flash cards and stuff for alphabet games. Here is the pack I got. Notice anything strange?
Thirty-six cards? How does THAT work? I thought maybe there were some activity cards so I tore into the pack like a wild wolverine (notice the taped up box as an afterthought?). There are all twenty-six upper case letters. Then ten random lower case letters. I figure his is why low-income kids often have trouble with early literacy. Their parents can only afford Dollar Tree learning products. Let me just say Dollar Tree, I couldn't spell the name of your store with the letters you provided, so let's work on that.
But Dollar Tree is how we came to know about Claire. I half-ass realized my period was late and wanted to take a pee test just to rule out the possibility of an embryo causing it. I had a Dollar Tree test and it was positive. Shocked the shit out of me. I ran up to Brad and rambled one long word that should have been divided into words to form a sentence or sentences. "Brad-I-just-took-a-pregnancy-test-and-it-came-back-positive-It-was-a-dollar-tree-test-so-maybe-it-is-wrong-but-if-not-we-are-having-a-baby."
Love my husband. He was so calm. He smiled, calmed me down, and said we would go out and get another test that cost more than a grab bag of Doritos and try again. But the Dollar Tree test was right.
Life can be fun on the cheap. But I'm pretty sure that pack was missing the h and f, so we'll be having "un on the ceap."
You know it is bad when you take money advice from Roseanne Barr. I remember this episode from the show in the 90's where Roseanne gets caught by John pouring store brand "CoCo Charms" into the empty CoCo Puff's box. She tells him she's been using the same box for years and the kids don't know the difference.
Here is my interpretation:
The premium stuff in the carafe is $3 when you can find it on sale! The frozen concentrate is $1.87, plus, I don't have to wag home that heavy bottle. Sure, I could save another $.50 if I got store brand, but orange juice companies use personalized flavor-ants to ensure consistency. That is why Minute Made always takes like Minute Made. Name brand ensures my family doesn't catch on to my scam. (And I'm pretty sure they don't bother to read my blog, so we are good.)
After making my fake-out juice, I went to Dollar Tree to get flash cards and stuff for alphabet games. Here is the pack I got. Notice anything strange?
Thirty-six cards? How does THAT work? I thought maybe there were some activity cards so I tore into the pack like a wild wolverine (notice the taped up box as an afterthought?). There are all twenty-six upper case letters. Then ten random lower case letters. I figure his is why low-income kids often have trouble with early literacy. Their parents can only afford Dollar Tree learning products. Let me just say Dollar Tree, I couldn't spell the name of your store with the letters you provided, so let's work on that.But Dollar Tree is how we came to know about Claire. I half-ass realized my period was late and wanted to take a pee test just to rule out the possibility of an embryo causing it. I had a Dollar Tree test and it was positive. Shocked the shit out of me. I ran up to Brad and rambled one long word that should have been divided into words to form a sentence or sentences. "Brad-I-just-took-a-pregnancy-test-and-it-came-back-positive-It-was-a-dollar-tree-test-so-maybe-it-is-wrong-but-if-not-we-are-having-a-baby."
Love my husband. He was so calm. He smiled, calmed me down, and said we would go out and get another test that cost more than a grab bag of Doritos and try again. But the Dollar Tree test was right.
Life can be fun on the cheap. But I'm pretty sure that pack was missing the h and f, so we'll be having "un on the ceap."
Saturday, January 7, 2012
God Told Me to Eat a Cookie
Minus a recurring affair with homemade egg rolls, I'm being good. Healthy. Weight-conscious. Yesterday, I had a lovely mixed green salad with fruit for lunch. Then my brother invited me over for turkey tacos. Being a guest, I can't show up without dessert. So while at Albertson I pick up a bag of their bakery cookies which are, by far, the most awesome cookies ever.
I load the groceries into the back hatch, start the car, and organize my purse and phone for easy access. Then I'm over-run with my brain having a fight. It was like I could literally HEAR the angel and the devil on each shoulder duke-ing it out.
devil: I want a cookie!
angel: No, it is 4:45. You can have one after dinner.
devil: No, I neeeeeed a cookie.
angel: I've been good all day.
devil: Exactly, good all day. Won't hurt now.
angel: No, this is ridiculous I'm not getting out of my running car to get a cookie.
The devil won. I was compelled (I don't use this word lightly) to get out of my car and go get a cookie. When I get back there I see a man, cowboy mid-60's, whose spur strap has come undone. He is crouched behind my car trying to fix his boot.
Guys, I totally would have backed right over him. It wasn't the devil on my shoulder, but God. God told me to eat that cookie so I wouldn't run over the cowboy!
Eat a cookie. Save a life. Share the news.
I load the groceries into the back hatch, start the car, and organize my purse and phone for easy access. Then I'm over-run with my brain having a fight. It was like I could literally HEAR the angel and the devil on each shoulder duke-ing it out.
devil: I want a cookie!
angel: No, it is 4:45. You can have one after dinner.
devil: No, I neeeeeed a cookie.
angel: I've been good all day.
devil: Exactly, good all day. Won't hurt now.
angel: No, this is ridiculous I'm not getting out of my running car to get a cookie.
The devil won. I was compelled (I don't use this word lightly) to get out of my car and go get a cookie. When I get back there I see a man, cowboy mid-60's, whose spur strap has come undone. He is crouched behind my car trying to fix his boot.
Guys, I totally would have backed right over him. It wasn't the devil on my shoulder, but God. God told me to eat that cookie so I wouldn't run over the cowboy!
Eat a cookie. Save a life. Share the news.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)