I am a quirky brunette who wears glasses, so I find this picture both perfectly appropriate to represent both me and my outrageously-out-of-proportion-with-reality mood.

And seriously, if you have soft pretzels, place them on a plate, put that plate on the ground, slide it toward me, and run for the hills, because I will pounce on that nonsense like a hungry lion after a weak gazelle. Include a Diet Coke and I won't chase you down after I've devoured my soft pretzel. Although all bets are off if you do any of the above actions while asking me a stupid question, such as "Why do I have to do this?" or "Where is the non-fiction section?"

Honestly.

I really am not sure why. Probably because I'm in a little bit in pain, and my hair doesn't have any bounce, and it's freaking freezing outside even though it is the 23rd of April. And maybe I'm just tired and tired of being broke.

Oh I don't know, My Imaginary Boston Terrier. I'm just not fit to be around people today.
Also, I'd like someone to buy me this Vacation to Iceland.

So, bad things happened last week.

Work was cancelled on Friday because of the "public safety emergency," i.e., the manhunt for the suspects in the Marathon bombing. And although I was well outside the lock-down zone, I didn't feel like I was able to leave my apartment. I woke up to a flurry of concerned texts asking me where I was, and one informing me about work being closed. So of course, I turned on the news. From that moment on, I couldn't seem to turn off the television. For much of the day it wasn't changing. It just kept cycling through what happened on Thursday evening, the faces of the victims, the timeline of how events went down, and the fact that the "shelter-in-place" order was still in effect for the Boston metro area. There were no interruptions in the coverage for what happened in West, Texas or any other part of the world. Not even a break for the weather report.

A handful of my friends were closer to what was going on. They were in Boston, stuck inside. Like I said, I wasn't, but I might as well have been. I was just tense all day. Around 3 in the afternoon, my mom showed up and took me out for a late lunch (I'd been so obsessed watching the news I hadn't eaten anything). I spent the rest of the afternoon with my parents, watching the same news, but it was somehow better to be around them then by myself. Just as my dad was taking me home, they announced they'd captured the second suspect.  I thought once they made that announcement I would literally breath easier, but...not so much. In a way, a handful of normal days later, I can still feel a lingering tension in the air.

Maybe it will get better when they know why the bombings happened, or whom else, if anyone might be involved. Maybe once there are more vigils, more acknowledgement of the victims both living and not, more tributes by sports teams and 70s icons. I'm not sure. I hope that the city, and everyone involved, heals quickly.

Last night, a small group of friends got together for a potluck. We all had "I was stuck inside" stories. So we swapped stories, ate an obscene amount of pasta (we had some yummy peanut pasta, stuffed shells, and mac & cheese as our main dishes), and played a dozen plus rounds of "Cards Against Humanity." Because there's nothing like a little gallows humor to make everyone feel better.

I did not win millions in the lottery this weekend, so today I went back to my jobs. Sigh. It continually amazes me that my life plan to win the PowerBall and retire to a private island with my own giraffe has not come to pass.

Because, really, I would rock at being an eccentric millionaire. I would do all kinds of crazy things, like fund a flight to Mars for a group of penguins, and market a line of Melissa dolls, which would be like Barbie dolls without the ridiculous measurements, but with the set of unrealistic career expectations (make money as a writer! ha.) Whirlwind trip around the world to buy a jar of Nutella in every conceivable country? I'll get my spoon.

I think everyone probably has that mental list of things they'd do with a lot of money. Whenever the jackpots for the lottery get really big, that's all anyone talks about. It's lots of "I'd buy a house for every member of my family," and "I'd pay off all my debts." I like to keep my expectations just a bit higher.

Which is my long-winded way of saying, I've been thinking a lot about money lately. I feel like I'm on the verge of being a lot more financially solvent, but... just not right now. Soon. I can see the light at the end of proverbial tunnel. It's weak, but it's there.

Since I doubt I'll find myself rolling around in piles of money anytime soon, I've been thinking practically. Little house. Little dog. One job, not two.

I've gotten some big debts down to an amount where I can see that I'll be free of them within a year. My school debt will hang around my neck like a loadstone until I'm chasing old men around my nursing home on my motorized scooter, but that's what I get for having the presumption to be a sorta-smart girl in a country where higher education is a business, not a right. I can live with that. The other stuff, not so much.

However, I contend, all this practical thinking is totally at war with my character, which insists that I was meant for bigger, infinitely sillier things. Like building the world's most extravagant tree house, complete with waterslides and a perpetual supply of puppies to play with when the mood strikes.

Melissa's Christmas Movie Guide, Part One (You're welcome)

Sweet, holy goldfish, it's nearly December. That means precisely one thing: Christmas movies have been on air for a month, and I've missed so freaking many.  I've been busy with the two jobs, so I've had to prioritize in my terrible Christmas movie watching, cutting out many fine Hallmark Channel features staring 90s television superstars. It's been difficult, I won't lie. I mean, I've seen most of them before but that's not the point.

There are a few I absolutely will not miss, year after year, the first being the seminal made-for-television "Smoky Mountain Christmas" starring the one and only Dolly Parton. It's so good. So good.

Let me share the joy with you: First of all, this classic originated in 1986. So it's the 1980s in all it's wonderful, teased up hair glory (not that Dolly is all that different today; side note, I adore her). It opens with a musical number, of course, a synthesized, peppy number that 1, does not match either the words or melody of the song, and 2, makes me realize that fashion in 1986 and 2012 are spot-on similar. (All I'm saying is there are a lot of high-waisted skinny jeans tucked into boots and big sunglasses.) Whatever, Dolly is doing a music video (remember those? No? Sad).

Dolly is playing country superstar "Lorna Davis" who desperately needs a break from L.A. and the papprazzi following her. So she asks an old friend for a cabin in the Smoky Mountains and heads out, but not before a paparazzo breaks in, snaps some pictures of her house and intended destination, and makes a mess of her gloriously pink Versailles-style boudoir.

Lorna's agent immediately believes she's kidnapped. As you do.

And of course, the paparazzo is also headed to the mountains to spy on her for his front page story.

Think you know the plot? Convinced it's about a superstar who yearns for the simple joys of home? Well you didn't count on the greatest plot decive known to man, the Plot Moppet. And this movie has not one, BUT SEVEN. Yes, that's right, on Lorna's first night in the cabin seven precocious runaway orphans wake her from a sound sleep assuming she's an angel!

I know it just keeps getting better.

But wait, I forgot something! Oh my god, there's a backwoods witch too. I swear to you, on Lorna's way up to the cabin she gets stopped by a local smarmy sheriff who just happens to have a nasty ex-girlfriend who is a witch, who immediately wants to put a curse on her. Wait, proof:

 

Yeah, that just happened.

 

Okay, back to the wonderfulness. Lorna, instead of, oh, I don't know, calling the Department of Family and Child Services, decides that she and orphans can bunk together through Christmas. The orphans have secrets, just like Lorna, so it's all okay. They live in terror of "Mountain Dan," who is, get this, LEE FREAKING MAJORS, who roams through the mountains on horseback looking like, well, Lee Majors.

 

Shiver a little, it's okay. Television in the 80s was a gift that just keeps on giving, you know?

 

Things are going well. Lorna and the Plot Moppets are bonding. They love her. She loves them. Their bowl haircut, overall-wearing ring-leader even agrees that she isn't so bad. But there's trouble! That witch is still in play, and she nearly lores Lorna to her death. Mountain Dan to the rescue! Mountain Dan has apparently been keeping an eye on the kids. He too, apparently, does not believe in calling the authority on children living alone in the wilderness. I guess the 80s really were a simpler time.

 

But, as is inevitable, their comfy coze in the cabin must come to an end. It begins when Lorna takes one of the little moppets to town to treat a fever. And since the witch is unhappy, and the smarmy sheriff is under her thumb, Lorna is followed back to the cabin by the local fuzz where the kids are taken into custody.

 

Except, Oh NO! Six of Seven end up in kiddie jail, watched over by two mean old ladies who do not believe in Christmas. All hope is not lost, though, as Lorna, Mountain Dan and the Paparazzo who has been wondering around the mountains for the last 80 minutes concoct a daring rescue plan involving them being dressed as Santa and his elf. 

 

Although, as you might expect, things do not go totally smoothly and they all get hauled before Judge Jack Tripper to explain their actions (seriously, it's John Ritter). Judge Jack Tripper wants to get home for Christmas, and so, in no time at all, Lorna is granted custody of the orphans, and it all ends happily.

 

So let's recap: Beautiful woman, hated by a witch, runs away to remote cabin with seven dwarves...er, orphans, who immediately love her. And you thought "Once Upon a Time" was so freaking clever.

 

Anyhow, just when you think this movie could not possibly get better, you learn that it was directed by Henry Winkler, Fonzie himself.  I think of that fact as the one that just cements the deal of this being one of the greatest bad Christmas movies of all time.

 

Smoky Mountain Christmas has repeated airings this time of year. I would hightly recommend you watch it if you ever hope to be my friend.

Well, that was a bust...

I'm obiviously a terrible blogger. I think it's my aversion to the word "blog" at all. It's like meatloaf, it might be yummy but as a language choice - yick.

So obviously this blog is not going to be about stuff I made and want to show off, because, uhm.... I haven't made much lately. A few batches of cupcakes don't really count, and beyond that...

Sigh, back to the drawing board.

Maybe I'll just have to showcase my awesome wit and utter disregard for humanity. One or the other.

 

Oh Joey McIntyre from New Kids on the Block you're totally right. I guess that's why you'll always have a little corner of my heart, even though you didn't marry me and take me to live in a castle in France as I planned when I was eleven.

 

Oh don't pretend like you didn't know. Because you were all....

And I didn't know any better and so I made plans for us. Pardon me if you're a real person who grew up and had a life including a wife and some adorable babies. I was busy being awesome so it doesn't even matter.

I know, I'm hysterical. Let's not dwell on it for too long.

 

Okay, I mean, we can dwell on it a little. Whatever Joey McIntyre. What. Ever.

 

 

Maybe a little. I could have done so much with a castle.



I'm Thinking About Some Stuff

I'm having the kind of day where I think I should try to be witty and engaging, but the truth is, I'm so tired all I want to do is take a nap. So this what's on my mind today, in short.

Did you know baby seals are dying from bird flu, a sign that the virus has mutated and may reach other mammal populations? I'm fascinated by the science of viruses. I'm not sure why. I think I've read too many books set during the Black Plague, and I'm not unconvinced that a world-wide pandemic will happen during my lifetime. I'm not much of a conspiracy theorist, but that's one that holds on.

And then there's other things, like, the mountain of unfinished projects I've got going. Books I'm writing. Sewing and home improvement projects. Stuff I'm avoiding thinking about, because starting and never finishing projects isn't a trait I like about myself.

And I have several evenings free this week, and it would be a good time to adress them, but really, this whole Kristen Stewart cheating scandal is much more interesting. I don't think much of her acting ability, not because I've seen many of her movies, but because she seems to lack poise in interviews. Pretty, yes, but all that running her fingers through her hair and slouching and biting her lip looks ridiculous. So it's not so much her that holds my interest, it's the rabid fan reactions to the story. Like that girl posting a video of herself crying on camera, and the ones tweeting that their whole life is a lie because of something that happened to two people they don't know, and likely never will. Strangly fascinating.

Also, did you know that half of India was without electricity today? I guess you could say that's another  thing that I'm wondering when it'll happen here. India, of course, has a host of infastructure issues, and has had these problems before, but I can't help but be fascinated by the idea of hundreds of millions of people without power. That and and a world-wide pandemic, and suddenly we're living in the pages of Stephen King's The Stand. And then I woudn't have to go to work, and could actually take a nap.

I'm mean, sure, it would be a sign of the Apocolypse, but whatever.

Some Recipes and Some Excuses

I'm not avoiding-avoiding, just mildly not posting. It sort of comes down to two factors - 1. I've been taking pictures with my cell phone, and 2. I'm not taking enough pictures to walk you through the whole process. Eventually I'll get the hang of it, but for now, well, take Sunday dinner for example.

I know, I love Sunday dinners too, there's just something nice about ending the week with a sit-down meal. Anyhow, this past Sunday, I had friends B & B over for dinner. The menu was as follows:

Chicken Satay skewers
Steak skewers
Sauted veggies (including those mini corn that I've never really liked)
Brown rice

Somewhat healthy, somewhat not. Also, only somewhat home-made.

It's not that bad, but if you must know the secret to my cooking sucess, it's take the short-cuts where they they taste good. Also, I have an unhealthy fixation with Trader Joe's, as if their snack foods are somehow better for me then what I can buy at cheaper stores, because, you know, they wear Hawaiian shirts and hippies tend to shop there.

I know, I know, but if you've ever tasted their Maple Leaf cookies, you'd understand.

So, I was all about the snapping pictures with my cell phone through the first part of the prep. Slicing up the chicken, getting it into the sauce, prepping the skewers....

And then, not so much. I got caught up. I love to make dinner for other people, especially people like B & B, who always compliment my cooking. I'm kind of a praise-whore, so you know, they're good for my ego.  Anyway, the skewers are pretty simple. Here's the recipe I made up on the fly, because it sounded good to me.

Melissa's Somewhat Homemade Satay (With help from Trader Joe's)
3 Chicken breasts, sliced into roughly quarter inch strips, length-wise.
1 jar Trader Joe's Peanut Satay Sauce (YUM)
3 Tablespoons unsalted Peanut Butter
2 Tablespoons Olive oil
1 tsp minced garlic
Dash or two of salt
Bamboo Skewers, soaked in water for at least an hour first

Put the Satay sauce in a bowl with the PB, Olive oil, garlic and salt. Mix up until smooth, and a nice, much thicker texture then it comes straight from the jar.

Put the sliced chicken in a bowl, and cover with 2/3rds of the sauce. Let sit in the fridge for a few hours, then take out a half-an-hour beforehand to come to room temperature.

One by one, take the skewers from the water, and guide them through the raw chicken. Place them on a broiling pan, or, if short such a pan, do what I did, line a sheet pan with a foil, then place a baking rack, the kind used to cool cookies, in the pan. Ta-da, make-shift broiler pan.

Spoon (or smear, whatever works) some of the sauce you leave behind on the chicken.

Put the oven on broil and let it heat up. Place the pan on a low rack in the oven, not too close to the burner.

Cook about 10-15 minutes, turning once mid-way. For the last minute, move up closer to the heat.

Serve with the extra third of sauce left from step 2.

It's like a little visit to Yum City.

Okay, that was lame . Don't judge me, I'm hillarious most of the time but my game's a little off, that's all.