I just *knew* this would happen. I’d tell the world about my comittment to NaBloPoMo, then I’d have severe writer’s block or forget to write until 9:30 p.m. when I want to do nothing more than curl up with a book. Or both. Sonofabitch! I have to dig in the reserve pile for this one.
It’s old news to some but new news to others. I am fortunate to be the daughter of a retired kindergarten teacher. I’m even more fortunate to be the daughter of a retired kindergarten teacher who bequeathed her classroom library to me when she retired.
I finally got around to: 1. moving the boxes and boxes of books from my bedroom at my parents’ home in Ohio to our house in North Carolina (only five years after moving to NC); 2. unpacking them; and 3. cataloging them.
That’s right. I cataloged them. All 800 books, give or take a few I didn’t feel like manually entering information for (some date back to the 1960s! I love it!), are recorded under a Goodreads, kept separate from my leisure-reading account.
Why commit such tomfoolery? you ask. Why not? I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember 800 book titles, and I’m not a giant fan of spending unnecessary money. To avoid buying repeat copies of books I already own (because, yes, I do want more than 800 children’s books), I logged them all in at Goodreads.
Not only am I over-the-moon excited for our future kids to have their own home library, I adore children’s books. I love how simply sweet, funny and informative they can be, and MAN, do some have the most beautiful illustrations. I could just stare in awe at some pages.
Feel free to peruse my collection on Goodreads. The link is over there, on the right side of your screen. I haven’t rated or reviewed any, but I hope to get around to that at some point. In the meantime, they’re all books I have read and approve of. Some are books that are most appropriate for kids ages 4-7ish, but many are appropriate and enjoyable for all ages.
And, for a crappy visual aid – my guest-room closet-turned-library:
I took entirely too long to read this book. I kept hoping to get sucked in by the story, but it never happened. I ended up finishing for the sake of finishing, but I never got past being bored with it. The book’s theme – the dangers of placing great wealth on one’s material possessions – was an interesting concept, but I think the lesson could have been portrayed in fewer words. There were a lot of details and characters I could have done without. Likewise, the number of characters and different points of view made it difficult for me to strongly connect with even one character. I prefer books with characters that make me want to spend time with them. This book lacked that.
I apologize for the choppy, disjointed and boring review. I tried to turn out something that made sense, but I fear I fell short.
I’m just happy to be done with this one.
Up next: “The Secret Life of Bees,” by Sue Monk Kidd
Translation: Happy Novemeber, blog readers.
So many of my e-buddies on the nest are participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) right now, and they were thisclose to peer pressuring me into joining them.
The problem is this: I hate writing fiction. HATE. Creative writing exercises were the reason I thought English classes were organized by the devil himself. I had no issues writing long-ass, boring research papers. I danced into classrooms on peer-editing day armed with an assortment of red writing utensils (fine-point Sharpies are my favorite), ready to spread editing joy.
But on all the rest of the days during which we were expected to craft creatively written stories from the depths of our brains? I’d rather stab my eyes out with a blunt pencil, thankyouverymuch.
I have no issue with creative ideas. I have issues with setting down my editor hat to let the writer in me flourish. Everyone knows creative writing is a long, drawn-out process during which the story grows and changes and twists and turns and rivals my favorite rides at Cedar Point.
If one can’t get past making each paragraph absolutely perfect, one cannot turn those individual paragraphs into a great (or even mediocre) story.
But everyone was having such fun discussing their plans for NaNoWriMo that I *almost* joined in.
Then sense came to me, and I decided I’d only drive myself batty and resent every NaNoWriMo comment I saw.
So November came and I was left on the sidelines, wishing I had it in me to be part of a cool abbreviated event.
LIGHT BULB.
NaBloPoMo! That’s National Blog Posting Month, folks. I completely forgot about it, and I have participated the last two years (on my old blog. the one I abandoned.)! I’m such a weenie! Lucky for me, I started off November with a bang and already have a blog post for each day with a bonus one today.
So, everyone, I’d like to wish you a happy NaBloPoMo. My promise to you is a blog entry each day for this lovely month. Stick around for some non-fiction blogging in lieu of producing the next crappy great American novel.
Eggsellent? That looks dumb.
In any case, it’s a moo point because my first attempt at making a recipe from my free, advance copy of “The Pioneer Woman Cooks” fell short of excellent, though it did involve eggs.
I started with a recipe for something I’ve wanted to learn how to make for a long time: Egg in a Hole, or as we call it, Egg in a Basket (that’s what I’ve seen it called most often on menus, at least). Rob is a big fan of the handy breakfast, but I’ve never attempted, thinking there had to be some magic trick to keeping the egg in the toast.
Pioneer Woman Ree Drummond says it’s simple, but I must be lacking some magical egg-making abilities. I long ago declared the scrambled variety my favorite (with cheese and Red Hot, please), and they totally are. But to be honest, they earned the coveted favorite spot because I can’t flip an egg without breaking it, then I always turn it into a scrambled egg.
So.
I did everything as instructed, but when it came time to flip the creations, both eggs (tried for two at once) pulled away from the toast and looked about to break. Terrified of a broken egg, I let them cook a little longer.
I waited too long.
Instead of that nice runny yolk (which rather makes me gag now, but it was HEAVEN as a kid, and Rob still loves it), I plopped two rubbery-looking things in butter-saturated pieces of toast on Rob’s breakfast plate. He swears they were fine, but I saw him shove some solid yolk off to the no-touch zone on the edge of his plate, so I know he didn’t love every bit of them, which is fine.
This is not an experience by which to judge the cookbook, seeing as my remedial skills at egg-flipping are most likely guilty for the dish’s demise, but I felt obliged to share the experience.
And! Lucky for you, the recipe is available for free on Pioneer Woman’s site. If you like these but have never made them before, try it out for yourself. If you are more successful in your attempt than me, PLEASE let me in on your egg-flipping secret.
I’m a weird girl. I don’t normally go for chocolate. Give me the choice between a lifetime of only having Starbursts or chocolate available as my candy go-to, and I’ll take the Starbursts, hands down (mmm, pink Starburst candies rock my world).
With everything in life, there is an exception to the rule. And the exception to my chocolate rule is the brownie. One square or one entire pan, I’m good with either (though I prefer more than one).
I’ve always been a box-brownie girl, despite my love of all things homemade. My daddy always says, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” and I listen to my daddy. He’s a smart man.
My husband, on the other hand, always says, “Who cares if it’s broken? Break it down and build it back up. I’m sure I can improve it.” I usually sigh at this and indulge his tinkering nature. He’s a busy body, so sometimes tinkering is all that will make him happy. He usually does it out in his garage, though. Plus, he does usually improve things by rebuilding them.
Then Saturday came along, with me all helpless and banished to the couch for rest and recouperation, ordered to keep my germs out of the kitchen, lest I infect the other half of my family. Perfect time for a brownie craving, no? Especially when I have a recipe for homemade brownies I’ve been wanting to test out.
(Confession: The other part of my from-box brownie love is that it’s just so easy. Why make things harder than they need to be if they’re already delicious AND easy?)
My husband, despite all the guilting and teasing and hard-times he gives out when charged with nursing his sick wife, does a fabulous job of taking care of me. He does such a fabulous job that he agreed right away to making these brownies. It probably helps that he loves brownies, too.
The only things I can attest for regarding the cooking process is that the instructions are simple to follow (Rob does NOT do cooking except for all things grilled *insert manly grunt* and chocolate-chip cookies, which he has never forgiven me for screwing up that ONE time SIX YEARS AGO. Lesson learned: Do not mess with that man’s cookies.), and the batter tasted like it was sent directly from heaven.
The finished product, however, is what I can talk about. Meh. I’m disappointed. They are severely lacking the chocolatey goodness I expect from brownies. They’re actually a little bland. They’re so bland that I committed a blasphemous offense and frosted them with a can of chocolate frosting I had lurking in the pantry.
I hate frosted brownies. I’m not a fan of frosting in the first place. My pieces of cake resemble a picked-over carcass with what I lovingly call “cake bones” left behind – the majority of the frosting that couldn’t be scraped off and is still stuck to cake.
These brownies needed a chocolate boost, though, and so I frosted them. I wanted to cry when I mentally determined the frosting improved them.
The recipe was one I tore out from a Penzeys catalog. Don’t know Penzeys? You’re missing out. Thanks to my friend, Kristin, who introduced me to Penzeys, it’s where I now buy all my spices, herbs, vanilla extract, salt, pepper … well, I buy a lot of kitchen essentials there. The quality is insanely higher and the prices are much lower than what you find in the grocery store. Plus, you get free retail-sized samples all the time, either for ordering from home or bringing a coupon into the store. How can you go wrong? If you’re like me and unluckily don’t live near a retail store, order a free catalog. Did I mention the free samples?
Onto the recipe, in case you want to prove me wrong, in which case, you’ll have to defend your awesome brownies to Rob, which will lead to an argument over how you must have done it wrong and added a bit of magic he didn’t know about.
Merry Brownies (from one of last year’s holiday catalogs)
Very easy to make – a wonderful treat which children can easily help prepare and bake. Not to mention these chewy brownies stay moist for day, unlike some brownies which turn hard as a rock after 24 hours.*
1 Cup butter (2 sticks)
12 TB. (3/4 Cup) Cocoa, natural or Dutch process
2 Cups sugar
2 tsp. pure vanilla extract
2-4 eggs (each added egg makes the brownies richer but also higher in calories/fat)
1 1/2 Cups all-purpose flour
1/2 Cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)
1/2 Cup powdered sugar to sift on top of brownies (optional)**
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease a 9″x13″ glass pan. Melt butter in a small pan over low heat, then sift in cocoa and whisk until smooth. Pour into a large mixing bowl, let cool. Add sugar and pure vanilla extract, mix well. Lightly whisk the eggs, then add to batter and stir to blend. Add flour, stir until combined. Brownies should be stirred by hand until just blended. Add nuts if desired. Spoon batter into baking dish.
Bake for 30-40 minutes, until the middle springs back when lightly pressed and the edges start to pull away from the sides of the pan. Let cool and then sift powdered sugar over the top if desired.
Prep time: 10 minutes, baking time: 30-40 minutes, yields: 16-24 squares
*It’s true. Two days later, and they’re still super soft and most definitely not rock hard.
**I stay far away from powdered-sugar topped desserts except for powdered mini doughnuts best enjoyed with apple cider in the fall. Why this hatred for powdered sugar? I always manage to inhale it as I’m eating, ending with a choking, spitting, sputtering mess of crumbs and half-chewed food. Most appetizing and charming.
