I don't know how I've managed to miss this one before, since over 9 million people have seen it and it's been out there for a couple of years. But it's new to me and thoroughly entertaining so here, I present to you 12 Days of A Cappella.
Thanks to WERS and their All A Cappella radio show for introducing me to this.
---
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Tell the Boston Globe, Too
The Boston Globe Sunday Magazine included an article this past weekend called, "The $66.95 Family Feast." Sounds like a great idea for these troubled, troublesome times.
The author starts out with some bright ideas: shop at a local store known for good food and great prices, use ingredients in more than one dish when possible, and assume certain pantry staples.
I'm thinking: Hey! I already shop at that store! I don't mind using stuff more than once! And I have pantry staples!!!
Then I read through the rest of the directions....
"Set the pork on a cutting board, pat dry with paper towels, tie into a uniform shape with kitchen twine..."
Hmm. I'd have to get some kitchen twine. Not a big deal. Reading on...
"In a large, ovenproof Dutch oven set over medium-high heat..."
Wait. I don't have a Dutch oven. Not even a small, non-ovenproof one.
"In the bowl of a food processor, pulse 1 ¼ cups plus 2 tablespoons flour, confectioners' sugar, and a large pinch of salt to combine."
Dammit! I don't have a food processor either!
"Remove the top piece of plastic wrap and use the bottom piece to help gently drape the dough over the top of a 10- or 11-inch tart pan (with a removable bottom). "
A TART PAN?!! With a removable bottom? Who do they think I am, Martha Stewart? If I were, I wouldn't be reading an article about how to save money on a family feast!
(Ok. Calm down. Deep breaths.)
Let's say I still want to make this feast, despite my utter lack of kitchen equipment. How much might that cost?
According to my bff Amazon, it would cost just about eighty bucks to acquire all the stuff necessary to pull off this meal.
Oh, hah! That's more than the meal itself. (Kinda defeats the purpose, yes?)
Here's some more hilarity from the recipe:
"Tip: Save on sugar. You need only 1½ tablespoons, so if you don't have any in the pantry, use four of the packets stashed in your office desk to sweeten coffee."
Gee, thanks! Oh, wait. I don't have a desk. Or a job. Or money to spend at Starbucks where I might pick up a few extra packets of sugar.
And one final quote:
"Tip: Save $1.40 on soy sauce. Use three of the free packets you stashed from your last order of Chinese takeout."
Takeout? Who can afford takeout? (And if you can, how come you can't afford soy sauce?)
And really, you're urging me to save money on sugar and soy sauce while simultaneously suggesting I use $80 worth of equipment that I don't have? Wha-huh?
In the author's defense, the recipes really do sound delicious.
But I guess "The $146.95 Family Feast" just didn't have the same ring to it.
---
Many thanks to Snarky Amber at MamaPop for this post on a similar topic which inspired me to write the above.
---
The author starts out with some bright ideas: shop at a local store known for good food and great prices, use ingredients in more than one dish when possible, and assume certain pantry staples.
I'm thinking: Hey! I already shop at that store! I don't mind using stuff more than once! And I have pantry staples!!!
Then I read through the rest of the directions....
"Set the pork on a cutting board, pat dry with paper towels, tie into a uniform shape with kitchen twine..."
Hmm. I'd have to get some kitchen twine. Not a big deal. Reading on...
"In a large, ovenproof Dutch oven set over medium-high heat..."
Wait. I don't have a Dutch oven. Not even a small, non-ovenproof one.
"In the bowl of a food processor, pulse 1 ¼ cups plus 2 tablespoons flour, confectioners' sugar, and a large pinch of salt to combine."
Dammit! I don't have a food processor either!
"Remove the top piece of plastic wrap and use the bottom piece to help gently drape the dough over the top of a 10- or 11-inch tart pan (with a removable bottom). "
A TART PAN?!! With a removable bottom? Who do they think I am, Martha Stewart? If I were, I wouldn't be reading an article about how to save money on a family feast!
(Ok. Calm down. Deep breaths.)
Let's say I still want to make this feast, despite my utter lack of kitchen equipment. How much might that cost?
According to my bff Amazon, it would cost just about eighty bucks to acquire all the stuff necessary to pull off this meal.
Oh, hah! That's more than the meal itself. (Kinda defeats the purpose, yes?)
Here's some more hilarity from the recipe:
"Tip: Save on sugar. You need only 1½ tablespoons, so if you don't have any in the pantry, use four of the packets stashed in your office desk to sweeten coffee."
Gee, thanks! Oh, wait. I don't have a desk. Or a job. Or money to spend at Starbucks where I might pick up a few extra packets of sugar.
And one final quote:
"Tip: Save $1.40 on soy sauce. Use three of the free packets you stashed from your last order of Chinese takeout."
Takeout? Who can afford takeout? (And if you can, how come you can't afford soy sauce?)
And really, you're urging me to save money on sugar and soy sauce while simultaneously suggesting I use $80 worth of equipment that I don't have? Wha-huh?
In the author's defense, the recipes really do sound delicious.
But I guess "The $146.95 Family Feast" just didn't have the same ring to it.
---
Many thanks to Snarky Amber at MamaPop for this post on a similar topic which inspired me to write the above.
---
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Ghetto Muddy Buddies
Or "How to Make Muddy Buddies When You Do Not Have Chocolate Chips in the House and You Do Not Intend to Wait Until You Can Buy Some"
You may be familiar with Chex Muddy Buddies. My friend Cynthia calls them "White Trash." Which is probably a more appropriate (if also potentially more offensive) name because they are white and frankly, they're a bit of a mess. But they are also DELICIOUS.
So what do you do when you need some Muddy Buddies, like, RIGHT NOW, and there are no chocolate chips in your cupboard? You Google "substitute for chocolate chips" and find out that you can use cocoa, sugar, and shortening in their place.
So here's my new and totally not improved half-recipe for chipless Muddy Buddies:
Melt in microwave:
half a stick of butter
1/4 cup peanut butter
Stir in:
3T cocoa
3(heaping)T sugar
some vanilla
Pour mixture over 4-5 cups of Rice Chex in a big bowl and toss.
Dump a bunch of powdered sugar on it. Cover bowl with plastic wrap, hold on tight, and shake it like a Polaroid pictcha. (Yeah, not only do I not keep chocolate chips in the house, I also don't keep gallon size plastic bags.)
Voila! Deliciousness.
You're welcome.
---
You may be familiar with Chex Muddy Buddies. My friend Cynthia calls them "White Trash." Which is probably a more appropriate (if also potentially more offensive) name because they are white and frankly, they're a bit of a mess. But they are also DELICIOUS.
So what do you do when you need some Muddy Buddies, like, RIGHT NOW, and there are no chocolate chips in your cupboard? You Google "substitute for chocolate chips" and find out that you can use cocoa, sugar, and shortening in their place.
So here's my new and totally not improved half-recipe for chipless Muddy Buddies:
Melt in microwave:
half a stick of butter
1/4 cup peanut butter
Stir in:
3T cocoa
3(heaping)T sugar
some vanilla
Pour mixture over 4-5 cups of Rice Chex in a big bowl and toss.
Dump a bunch of powdered sugar on it. Cover bowl with plastic wrap, hold on tight, and shake it like a Polaroid pictcha. (Yeah, not only do I not keep chocolate chips in the house, I also don't keep gallon size plastic bags.)
Voila! Deliciousness.
You're welcome.
---
Monday, December 8, 2008
Christmas Walk Weekend
Our town has an annual event called the Christmas Walk, which is basically an elaborate ploy to lure shoppers into town. Over the course of a weekend, there are sales and raffles at the various shops and events like horse-drawn carriage rides, face painting for the kids, and holiday carolers.
And, since this is New England and coastal New England at that, Santa arrives by lobsterboat to greet the throngs of children.
We decided to skip that mob scene, and instead enjoyed the tiniest Christmas parade in the history of Christmas parades. It is actually perfect for very little kids, like ours, who have no attention spans to speak of and freeze easily outdoors after too long.
Behold, the highlights:
Now my favorite part of the Christmas Walk is filling up on all the free snacks that the shops have put out. And since we live in a ritzy, yacht-club kind of town, these aren't your usual chips and dips type snacks. Oh, no.
There were huge platters of cheese and crackers, complete with grapes and little deli slices. Plates of chocolate truffles, chocolate-dipped cookies, and stamped gourmet chocolates. Dishes of cashews, platters of brownies, cake stands covered with coconut-topped cupcakes. And lest your mouth get dry from all the delicious goodness, there was apple cider, cranberry cider, and mini water bottles. And did I mention the wine? Red wine, white wine, Prosecco, Champagne... I was actually sad that I don't like wine because there was just SO much free wine to be had! Such a waste!
And my favorite store (which under normal circumstances gives away enough free samples as to constitute lunch) had outdone themselves. They had invited a bunch of their local vendors to give away samples. So in addition to their usual spread, there was pie, ice cream, cookies, and my absolute favorite candy, Sweet Sloops.
All in all, it was a fine, fattening start to this holiday season.
**And if you read the Bee Girl story but did not yet see that it has been updated with a picture (!!!) then get back there right now and check it out already!
---
And, since this is New England and coastal New England at that, Santa arrives by lobsterboat to greet the throngs of children.
We decided to skip that mob scene, and instead enjoyed the tiniest Christmas parade in the history of Christmas parades. It is actually perfect for very little kids, like ours, who have no attention spans to speak of and freeze easily outdoors after too long.
Behold, the highlights:
Now my favorite part of the Christmas Walk is filling up on all the free snacks that the shops have put out. And since we live in a ritzy, yacht-club kind of town, these aren't your usual chips and dips type snacks. Oh, no.
There were huge platters of cheese and crackers, complete with grapes and little deli slices. Plates of chocolate truffles, chocolate-dipped cookies, and stamped gourmet chocolates. Dishes of cashews, platters of brownies, cake stands covered with coconut-topped cupcakes. And lest your mouth get dry from all the delicious goodness, there was apple cider, cranberry cider, and mini water bottles. And did I mention the wine? Red wine, white wine, Prosecco, Champagne... I was actually sad that I don't like wine because there was just SO much free wine to be had! Such a waste!
And my favorite store (which under normal circumstances gives away enough free samples as to constitute lunch) had outdone themselves. They had invited a bunch of their local vendors to give away samples. So in addition to their usual spread, there was pie, ice cream, cookies, and my absolute favorite candy, Sweet Sloops.
All in all, it was a fine, fattening start to this holiday season.
**And if you read the Bee Girl story but did not yet see that it has been updated with a picture (!!!) then get back there right now and check it out already!
---
Thursday, December 4, 2008
9 Months(ish)
Dear Savannah,
You learned to clap today. You do it kinda slow, with the tops of your fingers still a little bit curled over, but you are definitely clapping.
You love to stand up, all the time, as much as possible. When I try to sit you down, you keep your whole body stiff to stay standing. You can walk along a couch or table but you don't take any steps all on your own yet. When Daddy stands you up to walk to me, you just fall forward into my arms with a big grin.
Your sister cracks you up. You stare at her in the car, pop up and down in your crib when she runs in to see you after a nap, and laugh out loud when she tickles you. She used to call you Savoner or Savander. Now it's Percy or Molly. She says you are a silly engine.
You don't enjoy the baby food. You don't enjoy being fed much of anything, you want to do it yourself. You still don't have any teeth. (Although, that hasn't stopped you from biting me with your gums while I'm nursing you. Not cool, Savannah, not cool.)
You like to babble. Mostly mamamamama. Which I tell myself (and your dad) is actually Mama. Sometimes you say babababa and then crack up when I repeat it back to you.
When I carry you in the sling, you always lean forward and stare at the ground. I don't know what is so fascinating down there, my shoes?
You are, like your sister, not a great sleeper (yet). You cry at naps and in the night and although I tell myself I will be tough and let you cry, I almost never am and almost never do.
You are all cheeks. And big, bright blue eyes. And chubby, chubby rolls.
And when you are sleepy, I hold you over my shoulder and rock back and forth, singing Twinkle, Twinkle. And you put your little head down and sigh.
Love,
mamamamama
You learned to clap today. You do it kinda slow, with the tops of your fingers still a little bit curled over, but you are definitely clapping.
You love to stand up, all the time, as much as possible. When I try to sit you down, you keep your whole body stiff to stay standing. You can walk along a couch or table but you don't take any steps all on your own yet. When Daddy stands you up to walk to me, you just fall forward into my arms with a big grin.
Your sister cracks you up. You stare at her in the car, pop up and down in your crib when she runs in to see you after a nap, and laugh out loud when she tickles you. She used to call you Savoner or Savander. Now it's Percy or Molly. She says you are a silly engine.
You don't enjoy the baby food. You don't enjoy being fed much of anything, you want to do it yourself. You still don't have any teeth. (Although, that hasn't stopped you from biting me with your gums while I'm nursing you. Not cool, Savannah, not cool.)
You like to babble. Mostly mamamamama. Which I tell myself (and your dad) is actually Mama. Sometimes you say babababa and then crack up when I repeat it back to you.
When I carry you in the sling, you always lean forward and stare at the ground. I don't know what is so fascinating down there, my shoes?
You are, like your sister, not a great sleeper (yet). You cry at naps and in the night and although I tell myself I will be tough and let you cry, I almost never am and almost never do.
You are all cheeks. And big, bright blue eyes. And chubby, chubby rolls.
And when you are sleepy, I hold you over my shoulder and rock back and forth, singing Twinkle, Twinkle. And you put your little head down and sigh.
Love,
mamamamama
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Bee Girl Story
Halloween 1993 I dressed up as the Bee Girl. You know, this Bee Girl.
There must be a picture of me in my homemade (read: stapled together) Bee Girl costume floating around somewhere, probably in the closet of my room at my parents' house, where all the Ninja Turtle stuff is stashed. But I don't have one to post, so you'll have to imaginize it. (How do I look? Cute? Ok, good.)
There must be a picture of me in my homemade (read: stapled together) Bee Girl costume floating around somewhere, probably in the closet of my room at my parents' house, where all the Ninja Turtle stuff is stashed. But I don't have one to post, so you'll have to imaginize it. (How do I look? Cute? Ok, good.)
***EDITED TO ADD THIS:
(Many, many props to my dear friend Amy for unearthing, digitizing, and sending me this photo. You cannot fully appreciate how magical it is that she did this until you know that she moved to the east coast a full 5 years before this photo was taken. The fact that she a) had it, b) knew where to find it, c) took the time to scan it, send it... I'm in awe. Amy, you are the best!)I was a freshman at UCLA and working in the promotions department of our campus radio station. Working in promo meant that I had to help construct and paint a hideous, lumpy brown dinosaur for the homecoming parade, which fell on Halloween weekend. (Why a dinosaur? I certainly don't know now and I think I didn't even know then. One of those college mysteries. Was our homecoming theme The Flintstones? It seems unlikely. But I digress.)
Being in promo also meant that I had to walk in the parade, with the hideous float, handing out whatever promotional crap we had to give away. In some sort of cosmic coincidence, the promo items I had to distribute were cassette tapes (I know! 1993, remember?) of Blind Melon's No Rain, which was the song that had the Bee Girl in the video.
The parade starts. I am walking along and people literally start losing their minds. "Oh my God! It's the Bee Girl!" Then they realize I am giving free shit away and they REALLY start losing their minds: "BEE GIRL! OVER HERE, BEEEEE GIIIIIRRRLL!!!"
Several people wanted to have their picture taken with me, which was very flattering and also slightly confusing. I mean, they knew that I wasn't the actual Bee Girl, right? She's like a ten-year-old kid? I tried to ignore that little conundrum and just enjoy the glow of temporary celebrity.
Later in the night, I had an interview scheduled for some other volunteer position in a campus organization. I know, I was a busy little bee. (HAH! See that? I was the Bee Girl and I was busy? LIKE A BEE!?)
My interrogator, I mean, interviewer must have made up his questions in advance because the final query was: Pick one item of your clothing and explain how it defines you. Someone else in the room stood up in my defense, "Dude, she's in a costume!" But I managed to pull something out of my ass by relating myself to my shoes (nice, sturdy, straight-laced normal shoes). And really, anyone who shows up at a job interview in a Bee Girl costume should have to take whatever they dish out, yes?
Did I get the job? Yes, but I didn't keep it.
Did I stay with campus radio? Sadly, no. I love me some free stickers and T-shirts and CDs as much as the next kid, but promo is just not me.
Do I wish like all get-out that I still had that damn Bee Girl costume stashed away somewhere, too?
Wouldn't you?
PS Thanks to Jason and his post on MamaPop for inspiring this post.
---
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Connectors and Mavens and Salesmen, Oh My
I'm reading Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point, it's about how thoughts, products, and actions can spread like epidemics.
One of his theories about how this happens is that certain people are more socially connected (Gladwell calls them Connectors), others are more market savvy (Mavens), and others are better able to persuade people (Salesmen).
To assess your level of social connection, Gladwell provides in his book a list of surnames picked at random from the phone book. You read the list and count up how many people you know with any of the names on the list.
I knew 11. Out of 250.
Strike one for me as a Connector.
I didn't hold out much hope of being a Maven. Although I'm very interested in getting good deals, I think most of that has to do with our current personal and national financial situation and not something innate within me.
Strike two.
And I don't even pretend to think I might be a Salesmen. Strike three, I'm out.
So, who cares if I don't fall into any of these three groups. By Gladwell's definition, these people are exceptional and rare. It should be no surprise that I am simply ordinary.
I think the interesting thing about these three types (and what makes me sad that I'm not one of them) is that they are people who are intensely interested in other people. The Connectors simply like more people and like to meet people more than most of us do. The Mavens are driven not so much by bargain-hunting as they are by a desire to help people. And the most successful Salesmen are those who genuinely empathize with and love their customers.
On paper, it would seem that I should have a vast social network. I've attended 4 universities and, through my husband, am affiliated with 3 more. I've lived in 6 different cities, in 4 different states. I've worked in at least 3 different industries.
In real life, I meet people easily, especially now that I have kids. I enjoy meeting people, hell, I will randomly talk to strangers. My mom has commented when she's with me that it's a skill not everyone has.
So how did I still only score an 11?
I think I lose track of people too easily. I think I'm often too self-absorbed to fully pay attention to other people. I think I'm more interested in talking than listening. (Ouch.)
I'm wondering if being a Connector, or a Maven, or even a Salesman is something you can learn. I don't think it is. I think it's simply something you ARE.
I think the Connectors, Mavens, and Salesmen of the world are more curious and more energetic and happier than the average person. And I want to be all of those things. But I'm not. And I don't think I ever will be.
Maybe I just haven't read far enough in the book yet. I'll let you know.
---
One of his theories about how this happens is that certain people are more socially connected (Gladwell calls them Connectors), others are more market savvy (Mavens), and others are better able to persuade people (Salesmen).
To assess your level of social connection, Gladwell provides in his book a list of surnames picked at random from the phone book. You read the list and count up how many people you know with any of the names on the list.
I knew 11. Out of 250.
Strike one for me as a Connector.
I didn't hold out much hope of being a Maven. Although I'm very interested in getting good deals, I think most of that has to do with our current personal and national financial situation and not something innate within me.
Strike two.
And I don't even pretend to think I might be a Salesmen. Strike three, I'm out.
So, who cares if I don't fall into any of these three groups. By Gladwell's definition, these people are exceptional and rare. It should be no surprise that I am simply ordinary.
I think the interesting thing about these three types (and what makes me sad that I'm not one of them) is that they are people who are intensely interested in other people. The Connectors simply like more people and like to meet people more than most of us do. The Mavens are driven not so much by bargain-hunting as they are by a desire to help people. And the most successful Salesmen are those who genuinely empathize with and love their customers.
On paper, it would seem that I should have a vast social network. I've attended 4 universities and, through my husband, am affiliated with 3 more. I've lived in 6 different cities, in 4 different states. I've worked in at least 3 different industries.
In real life, I meet people easily, especially now that I have kids. I enjoy meeting people, hell, I will randomly talk to strangers. My mom has commented when she's with me that it's a skill not everyone has.
So how did I still only score an 11?
I think I lose track of people too easily. I think I'm often too self-absorbed to fully pay attention to other people. I think I'm more interested in talking than listening. (Ouch.)
I'm wondering if being a Connector, or a Maven, or even a Salesman is something you can learn. I don't think it is. I think it's simply something you ARE.
I think the Connectors, Mavens, and Salesmen of the world are more curious and more energetic and happier than the average person. And I want to be all of those things. But I'm not. And I don't think I ever will be.
Maybe I just haven't read far enough in the book yet. I'll let you know.
---
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
