Tag: compound

Monday Miscellany

First, hey, Steve in Florida, hope you had a memorable fiftieth birthday yesterday. Happy belated! (Also, happy belated to Becky in Mississippi and to Miss Squishi, who may or may not be reading here and could kick EVERYONE’S butts at TJB trivia.) I celebrated all these February birthdays by going to my friend Trish’s play “You Go Girl,” then later taking my mother some early Valentine’s Day goodies and treating her to dinner, but mostly working on my tax stuff. There’s nothing more exciting than doing a bunch of financial paperwork on Sunday night!

For those who asked… When I post a photo for Photo Fridays, traffic to my LiveJournal picks up considerably from all over the world because I put the link on the Photo Friday web site. I just try to keep those posts as simple as possible. No moods, no music, no comments. But thanks for saying you like the photo! Rex watched with great interest from his second story window as I messed around with the camera at midnight. He was like Rapunzel. Only without the hair. Plus he’s a he. And no one was holding him prisoner. But other than that…

Have a great Monday, everybody! Maybe I’ll come back later after I get the tax stuff to my tax preparer. If I do come back, what would you like for me to talk about? Give me a topic. I’m game.

Cool Stuff About Wednesday

For the third day in a row, I’ve been at the gym and in the pool by 5:30 a.m. (I love getting to and leaving the gym before daylight.) I really like Clarence, who teaches the water aerobics class. He’s a swimmer and a runner and he’s in great shape. I’d get a photo for you, but we’re not allowed to take photos inside the gym. He’s been there all the years I’ve been a member, and he leaves the gym every day and goes to his full-time job. WHERE do people get that kind of energy?

A few days ago, in the pool, I met Trish, who owns a 1926-bungalow in Montrose (but on the opposite side of Westheimer from our 1928-bungalow). Today I met Jerry, who owns a 1920-bungalow in the Heights. We bungalow people like to stick together and badmouth the McMansions and STUPID FREAKING CONDOS that are hurting the character of our neighborhoods and driving up our taxes.

Today, there was an aerobics move that Jerry just could not do. In a flash of inspiration, I gave him something to visualize and suddenly he could do it. It’s nice to be part of the whole spirit of people at the gym in the morning. Everyone is a little quiet but helpful and pleasant. These are morning people, but they aren’t perky. No one should be perky before dawn.

I came home ravenous, ate a good breakfast, did some stuff, then headed for the Galleria. I HATE SHOPPING. But I had things to do, like getting a present to send to one of our nieces. Done. Then there was some other cool stuff.
you knew there’d be photos, right?

Put the Blame on Famous Author Rob Byrnes

I was reading everyone else’s witty posts and comments when it occurred to me that I’ve done nothing for days but post photos or memes or other insubstantial things (other than my regret that Molly Ivins died). I could use my work as an excuse for being a lazy LiveJournaler, but I think the responsibility actually lies with Famous Author Rob Byrnes.

FARB hasn’t blogged anything since last Sunday–a sort of unannounced hiatus–and as you may recall, when FARB takes a break, I sulk and wilt and otherwise act like a three-year-old in need of a nap. You know, the kind that gets her family kicked off of flights to Boston. (If in fact, I flew at all, much less to Boston.)

However, I think I figured out a way to draw him out if for no other reason than to chide me for a food post. I will NOT BE IGNORED, FARB!

Occasionally, Tom’s employer offers fishing trips southward on the Gulf for various employees. He always brings back a mess of fish. I’m not crazy about fish, but I eat it because it’s supposed to be good for you and it’s low in calories. Whatever.

Friday I thawed redfish from his last fishing jaunt. I looked at redfish recipes online and modified them based on ingredients I had in my kitchen. Okay, truthfully? I found one that used bacon. There’s no time that bacon is not enticing to me–and so much for that whole healthy fish thing, right?

Here are photos of the fish before it went into the oven, and photos of it on the plate, cooked, with fresh, steamed broccoli crowns, corn on the cob, and salad. That’s good eatin’.

Oh. Tom informed me it wasn’t redfish at all. It was saltwater trout. Unless you’re Hemingway, who cares? It was smothered in tasty bacon. It must have turned out okay, because the two pieces that were left over? Someone made off with them to the TimLair, and it wasn’t Rexford G. Lambert.
food photos!

The Dog Whisperer and the Princess

Margot is a good dog, but she has issues. Even though she’s been in a loving home for many years now, living on the street left its scars. She hates loud noises; thunderstorms and fireworks are particularly hard for her. She gets along great with Guinness, but with other dogs, her timidity and playfulness are in conflict. This often causes her to charge and snarl at Rex, who can’t understand Margot’s moodiness when he tries to engage her in a game.

She got in trouble with the Dog Whisperer for her behavior during one of these incidents, and here’s what happened afterward.
photos here

Talk about Scary Spice…

I’m totally stealing this from Shawn Lea at Everything and Nothing. When Lynne came for baking night before Christmas, she asked if I had any baking powder. Of course I did; was she crazy?

Um, the thing is, I never use baking powder, as she figured out when she rolled her eyes at the date on the bottom of mine, which was 1995-ish, if I remember correctly.

Apparently, I’m not alone… Check out this page from the McCormick Company’s web site.

Here’s what Shawn posted that sent me there:

Here’s a shot of my spice cabinet.

I’ve only got one Baltimore label (I clearly remember throwing the others away in 1997), but I have several rectangular cans. After thinking it over, I realize that most of my spices, other than the ten or so I use regularly, have been around for five to nine years. (This is partly due to the fact that I do buy fresh spices/herbs and I grow my own rosemary.)

After March 1, it’s purging time.

I should soon be hearing, from the dwelling behind me, a shout of victory from He Who Believes in Throwing Crap Away.