Things I Learned This (Long) Weekend

Dante was foreshadowing the Crystal City underground when he wrote "The Divine Comedy."
Because Crystal City is a circle of hell. There were many metro delays on Friday evening that had me stuck on a train for about an hour at the CC station. I finally gave up and thought I'd find a bus. Wrong! I wandered around the impossible underground maze of stores, which were eerily devoid of shoppers and owners, for a half hour. On my third trip outside to find a bus, I instead found a cab. Best $25 I've ever spent.

If you love fruit dip and have no self control you shouldn't make fruit dip.
Especially when you're the only one around. But that damn fluff/cream cheese/vanilla mixture is just heaven on strawberries. And a fork.

They really mean "rummage" at a Rummage Sale.
A church at the end of my block had a rummage sale on Saturday, my first rummage! And they really mean rummage. They had tons of clothes in heaps on tarps. I skipped them at first, heading for books and housewares, where I picked up 4 books, a "Votes for Women" packet, a basket, a divided tray, and a solid tray. I then meandered back to the clothes and after spying some nautical flag napkins -- I'm kind of obsessed with nautical flags -- decided to jump in to the heap and dig. (I didn't actually jump, but there was digging.) I found 1 hat, 2 skirts, 1 dress, 1 pair of pants, 2 J Crew wool sweaters, 1 Old Navy sweater vest, and a child's Vineyard Vines polo dress I thought I could wear as a dress. (See more on that below.) What was the grand total for all of this? A whopping $16! (Actually $20 because I donated the change. It's a church!)

I have a big head.
Or at least a head that's too big for a child's dress. I gave it to my co-worker for his daughter. At least it was only a $1.

A sewing machine and a little patience can lead to a new wardrobe.
Or what feels like a new wardrobe. On Saturday I took in six skirts! Two were from the rummage sale and four were from my closet that I've been making fit with safety pins for the last two summers. It was alarmingly easy to take them all in and I'm so happy to have six new (to me) skirts in my repertoire.

The inside of an iron with a retractable cord is a mess.
I dropped my iron for the 100th time, but this time from a distance of about 3 feet on to hardwood floor. The iron still works, but the cord can no longer be stored neatly within.

The Jonathan Adler store is pretty.
And expensive. His store opened in Georgetown in the fall but this was my first visit. I only took one picture, as inspiration for what I can put under my own new (to me) cloche. But the entire store was lovely and modern and bright.

You know you're in for an interesting show when you have to take off your shoes and wear these.
This is B and I before a dance performance at the Kennedy Center. We knew ahead of time we would have to remove our shoes, stand for 45 minutes, and there would be nudity. Wowza was it a show. (See more on that below.)

Some people play fast and loose with the word "art."
I won't get too specific out of respect of the "dancers," but we saw what was billed as a dance show. We walked in to a long, white room with various large squares on the floor. Some squares had plastic cubes, some had piles of paint, two had a disgusting amount of fake, dark hair, and most squares had a person, wearing only flesh-colored undies. Yep. For 45 minutes the crowd walked around and amongst the squares, watching the performers dance, move cubes, freeze, and eventually roll in the paint. (And the hair, which was awful.) It was different, to be sure, but at least we have a good story to tell.

I seriously love a weekend trip to pool.
As I blogged repeatedly last summer, I'm sure I'll be blogging the same this summer in terms of trips to apartment pool. I just love it so. And this year they have new chairs that can lay completely flat! Hello, easy reading on my stomach.

I seriously love a weekend trip to the pool...even if my knees look like a "weird butt."
Or so says an FB friend after I briefly posted this photo. Umm, pretty sure everyone knows those are my knees, and not my butt.

Too much foot soak + electronic foot bath = bubble madness
I made three trips to the kitchen sink with a handful of bubbles before giving up. I bought the bath on crazy sale on Sunday, thinking it would be great for use with all my assorted foot products. I'm hoping it was just user error or else this thing will be going back.

Pumpkin Carving Party

On the Saturday before Halloween, I hosted a Pumpkin Carving Party at my apartment. (Even though only 3 of my friends were able to attend, I'm still calling it a party. And 3 is better than none!)

I just love to throw a themed party, to decorate and cook for it. Especially when it's something as simple as pumpkins. Or the Olympics or Royal Wedding. Or, as will happen at some point in the future, an "I heart Obama" party and a wedding viewing party for Leslie and Ben.

My decorations were simple and cheap: pennant banners, printed signs, flags for straws and toothpicks, and dollar plates and napkins from Target.

 

I provided bourbon slush, caramel apples, pumpkin chocolate spice muffins, and cookies. Everyone else brought an appetizer, some drinks, and a pumpkin.

 

For the pumpkins I had carving utensils, templates, and stickers. I also had some pom pom fuzzy creature things that were on sale at AC Moore that we didn't end up making, and some temporary tattoos, which we all were way too excited about.

 

I didn't originally intend on people dressing up but, after several requests, that's what happened. Brandie was a tourist, Sasha was Lana Del Rey, I was a black cat (who couldn't stop laughing) and Shana was a woopie cushion.

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After some drinking, eating, and chatting, we took over the floor and dug into our pumpkins. Sasha was by far the best at cleaning and efficiently cutting her pumpkin. So were Brandie and Shana, though Brandie did get her hand stuck and Shana hated all the yuckiness. No picture of me but I did carve one, too. (Not very well, but it was still lots of fun.)

And the end results, from left to right, Sasha, me, Brandie, Shana

It was fun to just hang out and get in touch with the kid side of Halloween again. But with alcoholic beverages. A win win!

Things I Learned This Weekend

A good end to a rough week is watching a great movie with a great friend while drinking secret wine.
I went with a girlfriend to see the brilliant and hilarious and wonderful "Pitch Perfect." I won't reveal which of us snuck in the wine. (Though I can reveal that one of us dug shards of plastic out of her purse this morning after forgetting to remove the spare plastic cup.)

There's nothing quite like the library on a Saturday.
This is my library. I had a lot of errands to run on Saturday and started late, but there's always time for a good book.

Making goodie bags for a friend's wedding is a good activity for a dreary day.
One of my friend's is getting married in a week and she has been so stressed I went to help her with some wedding stuff. While I'm still nowhere near ready for marriage, I do love all the fun wedding stuff.

I should really stay away from World Market.
There is no reason to buy a Christmas ornament in October. But I bought two. Neither of which I'll be using as ornaments, though, so I'll give myself a pass.

I really miss home whenever I need to spray paint.
My Daddy, in addition to having every tool ever, has a great garage set-up and all the perfect things for spray painting. Tarp, handle for the can, wires to hang things, etc. Though at least I finally rigged up an acceptable spray paint area in my place using a sheet and a hangar. See? It's a little sad and depressing, but it got the job done.

The best way to combat the smell of spray paint is with a candle.
I bought this rosewood vanilla candle at World Market. It's a good size and just smells wonderful.

Decorating with whales is way more fun than decorating without whales.
In the past week I FINALLY found not one, but two whales. The smaller one was bought in West Virginia and the larger one is a soap dish from World Market that I spray painted. I'm not sure where Freida and Lola will be living yet, but for now they're chilling on my bookcase.

Maybe I should stick to just beading jewelry.
I'm working on a very tedious beading project. I want to give it as a gift, but I fear by the time I finish it, if I finish it, I'll be too selfish to give it away. But at least I have this glass egg crate from World Market to help me sort. (And it was $10 cheaper than the ones at Anthro.)

Orzo + Feta cheese = Yummy
This is what I threw together for Sunday dinner. And I don't throw things together. But it was easy and cheap and was good for lunch the next day.

Despite my complete hatred and disrespect for Christopher Columbus, a day off would have been nice.
Alas, I had to work. But, you know, that's ok since I'd rather not have a day off work in honor of the man who did NOT discover America, but DID spread disease and unhappiness to those who DID discover it. And my sister sent me this:

Things I Learned This Weekend

Note: This post is too long given how non-eventful my weekend was. Photos include paper towels and an ironing board cover. Woah, I know, easy with the craziness.

A busted watch makes for an annoying start to the weekend.
Somehow I broke the crystal on my watch. I constantly bang it on doorjambs and tables but I'm not sure what finally busted it. I do know that it should make perfect sense as last week I also had to have high heels re-heeled, a zipper fixed in my purse, and a dress dry cleaned because it had barbecue sauce on it.

Thrift shopping is an ok Friday activity.
After working like a mad woman all week, I was ahead of schedule on Friday and decided to leave early. As I've said before, there are so few thrift stores in D.C. proper so I decided to try a Goodwill in Arlington. (That ended up being comically close to where I used to live.) It wasn't organized as nice as I like, but I did get 3 tops, 1 skirt, and 1 glass for $19. That includes a cashmere turtleneck for $5 and a Chapel Hill glass for 96 cents. I may have gasped when I saw this cute thing. There's a whole line of these sold at A Southern Season and I already have 1 trivet and 2 larger glasses that match.

My mother purchased me the "single spinster* lady" paper towel pack.
Every time my mom visits she brings me big packs of toilet paper and paper towels from Sam's. The last few rolls have been interesting. First, there were cats. Now, there are teapots and teacups. These lead me to the conclusion that she bought me the old maid* pack. If the next roll has shriveled ovaries on it I'm going to scream. (*Note: I HATE both of these terms. Men are still considered bachelors even when they're 90, why do women have to be spinsters or maids? I'm still deciding on what I want to be called. I've narrowed it down to Goddess of the Single Life or No, Really, I'm Happy This Way.)

You need an advanced degree to put on an ironing board cover.
A few weeks ago at Ikea, I bought a new ironing board cover for my non-standard Ikea ironing board. It's been sitting on my floor, intimidating me with its size and parts and string and instruction sheet. It turns out I was right to be intimidated because it was like wrestling an alligator** to get it on. But at least it's pretty! (**Note: I've never actually wrestled an alligator.)

Darts may change my life.
The skirt I bought at Goodwill was too big, but because it was such a beautiful shade of blue and it was Vineyard Vines, which meant good quality, I bought it anyway for $6 with the hope that I'd finally be brave enough to try darts. Which I did. They were much easier than I thought and took in the waistband the perfect amount. However, I didn't get them perfect enough so there's a bit of a weird pooch. 

Lemonade bought from little girls at a lemonade stand is the best kind of lemonade.
Out in my neighborhood on Saturday, I came across two girls selling cups of homemade lemonade for 50 cents. It was perfect, not too sweet or sour. And while I was tempted to ask them their political views given the frequent references to lemonade stands in this election cycle, I refrained.

I'm a slightly better person than I thought.
For more than a year, I’ve been looking for a ceramic or wooden whale to spray paint and use as a decoration. Even at the beach I couldn’t find one because all they had were dolphins. Well, on Saturday, on another thrift store run, this time to my favorite, there was a wooden whale that my eyes just completely missed. I became aware of it when I heard a mom exclaim, "It's a whale! Jonah, you have to get it!” Yes, the kid named Jonah got the whale. (Like he probably doesn’t already have a dozen whales.) Since it was a thrift store attached to a church and it was a child named after a Biblical character, I refrained from knocking him down, grabbing the whale, and running for it.

Watching a good movie at an old theatre is a good Sunday afternoon activity.
There are two small theatres on Connecticut Avenue close to my apartment. I'd never been to the two-screen one within walking distance of my place, and since they were showing "The Words," I finally was able to make it. Not only did I really enjoy the movie, despite all the bad reviews, I loved the theatre. It was built in 1923 and after abruptly closing in 2003, was saved and re-opened by the community in 2005. I'll be writing more about this later. 

Some crafts are better than others.
I had the strongest urge to use my sewing machine this weekend so I picked a few projects from my Pinterest board and got to work. Out of the four things I worked on, I only like two of them. But maybe with some tweaking the "nays" will become "yays."

Yay: Pin cushion thread catcher and a necklace

Nay: Pin and headband

Cheese can't save everything.
Since I was already on my Pinterest page, I decided to try a new quick and easy recipe. It was only alright. I don't know if it was the meat choice or if there was too much dressing. Or it could have been the Parmesan cheese I added, which is odd, because in my experience cheese makes everything better. 

I really miss the pool.
But at least I got some stuff done.

(Mis)Adventures in Cooking: Part 3

For quite awhile now one of my go-to meals have been:

Pop six in the oven on 450 for 15 minutes and I'm good to go. However, I've been trying to change my eating habits and am working to scale back on processed or pre-packaged foods and fast food.

Last month I came across this recipe for homemade chicken taquitos, pinned it, and decided to make them tonite.

Full disclosure: I have no idea if these are actually more healthy than my precious Jose Oles. Especially once I get to the main reason this recipe caught my eye: cream cheese mixture. Three of the most beautiful words in the English language. The number of things I make simply because they involve a cream cheese mixture is ridiculous. And likely not at all healthy. And, also, silly since unless it's a honey walnut flavor, I can't even eat cream cheese on a bagel.

But moving on. After a quick trip to the grocery store for a few ingredients, of course, I started on Bonnie Ole's Taquitos. (Patent pending.)

This is the cream cheese mixture with chicken, cheese, and a few modifications. (No green onions or cilantro, red salsa instead of green, and a little black pepper.)

The taquitos with chicken filling all rolled up and ready to be cooked. No in-process shot as my hands were covered in gook. But it made seven nice-sized 'quitos, though I could have probably made more but was tired and hungry and stuffed them quite full. Per the recipe, they also have some kosher salt sprinkled on top.

Finished! (More salt on pan apparently, oops.)

The inside.

With some refried beans on the side, my dinner.

Not to dance around my own sombrero, but Bonnie Ole's taquitos were pretty darn good. They were rich, creamy, and not too spicy. I think next time I may add some more chili powder or salsa but they were very filling and tasty.

For desert I made a very easy fruit dip to go with fresh strawberries: one jar of peanut butter fluff and one block of cream cheese. Mix, chill, and dip. That simple. And oh so good. And any recipe that allows me to buy some fluff and reminisce about peanut butter and fluff sandwiches from my childhood, is a good recipe in my book.

Oh, in case you all are wondering if the lack of MISadventure in this post means I'm maturing or somehow becoming more together, fear not, that will never happen. Why? Because my shoe came off in the crosswalk again today. For the fifth time. Good to know that as long as one area of my life is going well, there will always be another area just waiting to make a break for it in the middle of an intersection. But, at least at the end of the day, I will still have my taquitos.

More (mis)adventures in cooking

Occasionally, I will get creative with my dinner options. Not often, but occasionally. Like the thrown together guacamole. Or when I'm out of everything and have to make do with some mustard, mozzarella cheese, and  bacon. That's a slight exaggeration. But only slight. 

However, something similar does happen far more often than I'd like to admit. This is primarily because of my supreme aversion to both the grocery store and to spending money on something as fleeting as food. Tonite was one of those situations. The only thing I had all the ingredients for were my patented crescent roll/pizza roll/pocket things. (Ok, patent only pending if a better name can be found.)

Now that my fear of opening pressurized breading has been conquered -- post for a later date -- my refrigerator is never without crescent rolls. And after a Pillsbury commercial showed a mom -- because it's always a mom -- making pizza pockets with the rolls (and pepperoni, sauce, and cheese) I gave it a shot.

Except I don't know how she got those perfect little triangles so mine became Mega Flaky Pizza Rolls. (Better name?)

But tonite I wasn't in the mood for Pepperoni Bonanzas! and decided to try my hand at making some rice. My mom makes fun of me, but I have trouble making rice. Which is why my rice was exceptionally chewy tonite. But it wasn't too terrible.

To spice it up I found a can of red kidney beans in my cupboard. (I know, I was shocked too.) And there was a recipe on the side for red beans and rice which, apparently, requires a few more ingredients than just the red beans and rice. But I managed to "throw" something together with some oregano, Adobo seasoning, garlic, onions, and tomato sauce.

I don't feel comfortable calling it red beans and rice; the name is just too iconic. So I'll just call mine some rice, and some red beans.

Just a bit bland, probably needed more tomato sauce and onions, but very filling and, most importantly, different.

(Mis)Adventures in Cooking

On Sunday I woke up early (for me) to a very wet and gray day. After a few episodes of "The Office" and a little bit of "This Week," it was off to the grocery store to pick up a few ingredients for the day's projects. Of the cooking variety.

First up was some guacamole. I've only realized in the past year my like for guacamole, so long as it's fresh and chunky. I looked up online how to cut an avocado and also several different recipes, but ended up just throwing it together. That's right, I threw something together. Mark the date. Two avocados, a handful of cherry tomatoes, a little sea salt, a little garlic powder, and a bit too much lime juice, and this is what I was left with. (I still have a bit of a hangup about how green it is, thus the addition of the tomatoes to trick my mind a little bit.)  

It was the perfect lunch and accompaniment to some DVRed "Saturday Night Live." Then, after a little relaxation and two episodes of "Gilmore Girls" on SoapNet, I started on my next dish, carrot cake muffins courtesy of a recipe in the New York Times.

I took this before picture of the batter in case they turned out so amazingly well that there were doubts as to if I actually made them.

There really was no need for the proof. 

But, even if they look like mud, the taste is all that matters. Except, they actually taste kind of blah. No idea why. They smell amazing and I followed the recipe exactly. Well, except for using the brown sugar I had instead of the "turbinado" kind. Could that have been the key? Or the nutmeg from a bottle instead of "freshly ground?" Maybe I'm just not refined enough to use recipes from the Times.

I did, however, manage to still eat three of them during the "Indiana Jones" marathon on USA. One for each movie watched.

Holiday Rewind Part 4: Cupcakes

My sister decided she wanted to get into making cupcakes, so for Christmas I gave her a few recipe books and various cupcakes-related paraphernalia. I spent a few days with her after Christmas and we decided to make a batch. She let me pick the kind and I went with the understated and healthfood-like s'mores cupcake.

We mixed up the batter and put a marshmallow in the center of each before baking.

But after baking, the majority had collapsed due to the weight of the marshmallow. So we decided to turn our s'mores cupcakes into S'mores Surprise! cupcakes. In other words, I crumbled up some graham crackers to fill in the hole. Just like any good carpenter, I mean baker, would do.

Next was the frosting, made from scratch.

And then on to the decorations. A bit of Hershey bar, a bit of graham cracker, and a bit of marshmallow.

And each bit of marshmallow was hand-roasted by Melissa and her creme brulee torch. (After some trial and error which included roasting the 'mallow on the cupcake, which then melted the cupcake. Then trial of error of setting the 'mallow on the pan, which then stuck to pan. Then finally Melissa perfected the mini-mallow roasting with the aid of a toothpick.)

And voila, a Melissa and Bonnie S'mores Surprise! cupcake. (Patent pending.)

We don't think we'll be opening our own bakery anytime soon, but they were GOOD. And really not as rich as they look as the frosting was very understated. But then again, I am a known chocaholic.

Next time: 27!

Bad, Southerner

There are many stereotypes associated with the South. Many, many stereotypes. As a Southerner, I can confidently say that most of them are not true. Or, if they are true, they only apply to a small subset of the population and shouldn't be used to judge an entire region.

There will always be exceptions, of course. But to think that all Southerners are racist Republicans clinging to their Bibles and guns is about as fair as saying that all Northerners are pretentious yuppies swathed in tweed as they pahk the cah in the yahd.


However, there is one stereotype that is a little true. And it's something that Southerners enjoy and do very well: frying things. It's not like we invented it or are the only ones who do it but, let's face it, we have perfected it. Twinkies. Turkey. Doughnuts. Chicken. Green tomatoes. Hush puppies. Okra.

I just so happened to have purchased some of the latter at Eastern Market a few weeks ago. Came home, cleaned it, dipped it in some Ranch, and then prepared for the delectable result. Instead: blech. Not what I was expecting. It turns out I only like okra when pickled or fried. Good, Southerner.


Pickling takes too long so I moved on to my next option: deep frying! But first, a confession: I'm afraid of hot grease. Frying things scares me so I bake french fries, chicken, shrimp, etc. Bad, Southerner.

If I do have to use grease, it requires wearing long sleeves and oven mitts with a very long spoon to prevent the grease from piercing my skin. But I had these lovely okra pods and a deep craving so I set forth on a Google search. Because, sadly, I don't know how the whole frying thing works. And, judging by the results, I still don't know it works. Bad, Southerner.

They look rough, but they weren't bad. The taste was what I was imagining when I bit into the raw pod, so that was nice. Aside from a little charring, they were actually quite good. Part of the problem may have originated with the recipe. It said to "dredge the okra in the cornmeal mixture."

Thus I present, the Thought Process of Bonnie: "Dredge. That's a good word. Dredge. Isn't that what you do to a lake? Dredge. Sort of like drudge. Drudge Report. Ugh, I don't like that. Dredge. The cornmeal is sticking to my eggy hands. Dredge. Oh crap the okra is black and there is no grease left in the pan and it's so smokey in here. But dredge is a good word."

I just don't think I can be a lover of words AND a good cook. Good, Southerner?