Category: Cookin’
I’m really bad at it.
Amy’s Fashion (Mis)Adventures: Golden Girls on the Lanai
Your fashion-challenged Avid Bruxist, she is back with more (mis)adventures! (If you want to read previous Stitch Fix/fashion posts, scroll to the bottom and click the Fayshun tag.)
For those just joining us, the way this works is: Stitch Fix sends me a package, and I try on the items and text my amateur impressions to my superfave Kate, who responds with her expert opinions.
Kate has an eye for fashion/lewks. First, she watches RuPaul’s Drag Race like all the time, except she calls it RuPaul’s Dreg Race because you can take the girl out of the Midwest, but you can’t take the flat vowels out of the girl.
Second, she likes it, and I’m not saying I don’t, but I’m all product and no process. I feel about fashion the way I feel about food. I like eating but not cooking. I like wearing cute clothes but not shopping/trying on/selecting. If that sounds to you like I just like results without putting any work, then you are very good at reading comprehension.
That being said, my sartorial acumen has improved over the last few years to the point where I at least know if something is a slam dunk, like this:
By “seeming detail,” she meant “seaming detail,” and by “the ladies,” she meant “your boobs.” So even though $118 is a lotta clams, I had to keep this one.
I did not have to keep the next one.
It was a couple inches too long, and as Kate said, the pattern was “VV Golden Girls on the lanai.”
I’d say one piece out of every Stitch Fix is the emperor’s new clothes–an item they’re pretending is something but it’s really nothing, like this t-shirt. It had a seam detail straight down the back, but otherwise it was just a t-shirt.
Have I mentioned that Kate is a giant nerd? Anyway, I can get t-shirts at Target for like $8 and in better colors.
Friends, how do we feel about white blouses? I feel good about the idea of a white blouse, and I have at least one in my closet, but I can count on zero hands the number of times I’ve worn a white blouse in the last five years. I can tell you though–if I were going to wear a white blouse, it wouldn’t be this one:
I got an A+ from Kate on my assessment.
Have I mentioned that Kate occasionally skateboards in work clothes with her pet raccoon?
As you may have noticed, accessories from Stitch Fix have been hit or juuuuuust a bit outside.
Remember last Fix’s baroque BDSM necklace? So I was apprehensive to open the box this time, but I was pleasantly surprised.
So I tried them on for her. Please excuse my hair. I… I don’t wash it.
I mean I wash it.
I wash it sometimes.
Kate said the earrings were cute and also my face. I mean my face was also cute, not the earrings were also my face.
Hey, if you want to try Stitch Fix for yourself, please use this link. They’ll give me a $25 credit, and I’ll keep writing these silly blogs.
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You Guys, It’s My 4-Year Blogiversary (with Retrobruxist Friday 8/2/13)
I’ll be accepting your gifts of linen, silk, fruit, flowers, and/or electrical appliances. Thank you. You’re too kind.
Three years ago, as one commenter said, I was paying off some bad karma.
I learned two years ago that what I was doing had a name: the Valsalva Maneuver.
A year ago, I was having one of those ducks-but-water moments. I finally bought one of those reusable ones. Today, when I arrived back at the classroom with my mug in hand:
Student: You sure do like coffee.
Me: I sure do like being caffeinated.
What you may have missed on Fat CrossFitter: I get pretty excited about dinner too.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
I Did a Good, Good Thing, But I Fucked It Up, As Per Uzh
I made soup!
On the first bite, I was like, “I would ask this soup to prom.” The second bite was also good, but with each subsequent bite, it tasted less like soup and more like dessert.
That didn’t stop me from eating two bowls, but I wondered how I might cut the sweetness next time. I tappity-typed out a comment on the webpage, and just before I hit Post Comment, I thought to myself, “Self, you’re doing great. I don’t want to take anything away from the amazing progress you’ve made in the kitchen. But. When something doesn’t turn out quite right—I’m not saying always, I’m not saying always—just a lot of the time, or all the times I can remember right now, it’s because you’ve made a misstep.”
I considered where I might have gone wrong, and the only sweet thing in there was coconut milk, so I looked at the can.
Guess what was made of coconut “juice”, sugar, polysorbate 60, a variety of diglycerides, propylene glycol alginate (that sounds healthy), sorbitan monostearate (good for preventing tennis elbow, I’ve heard), guar gum, and locust bean gum. Two kinds of gum. Both guar and locust bean.
Goya, you cabrón. Fucking trickster.
Retrobruxist Friday 6/whatdayisit?/2013
I was driving along this afternoon with all the windows down—yesterday’s squall having blown the heat and humidity elsewhere, thank god—listening to Top 40 radio, and I realized
Of course, all it took was trying on two sports bras to crush my soul.
You take the good, you take the bad, I guess.
Three years ago, I learned when puberty begins.
Two years ago, I altered my to-do list, and good things happened. Well, one good thing happened.
Last year this time, I learned whether my dogs were good guard dogs.
What you may have missed on Fat CrossFitter: I did the Filthy Fifty for the third time, and I’m genuinely scared/have a very first-world problem.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
This Post Is Not Really About Teaching; It’s About My Usual Shit
In my professional life, I’m graded on a rubric. Did you know that? There are six standards upon which teachers are evaluated, and for each we are deemed Developing, Proficient, Accomplished, or Distinguished.
A couple weeks ago, I was out with some friends, one of whom is also a teacher, and we got to talking about the rubric. For shits and giggles, I suggested we use it to rate ourselves in other aspects of our lives.
Honestly, I can’t remember much—we were a couple cocktails in—except that Meg rated herself Distinguished in both Being Alone and Handling Her Shit (a super-accurate self-assessment), but I’ve been thinking about it lately, and here’s my self-evaluation.
Developing
1. Dressing myself. I still don’t know what looks good, what to buy, or how to put it together. It takes a ton of emotional effort for me to dress up. All I want to wear is jeans, my Obama hoodie, and
But I’m getting better. I wore skinny jeans, for Christ’s sake.
2. Dating/being in a relationship. You know how everybody’s always like, “Gahd, another Taylor Swift break-up song?! When is she gonna realize that the only constant in all these situations is her?”?
Yeah, I realize it’s me. I do. I’ve done a lot of work and put myself out there, but clearly I need more practice/support/guidance.
To that end, two things:
(1) In a maneuver I’m calling Amy’s Last-Ditch Campaign to Get Inseminated by a Dude She’d Like to Chill with for Awhile/Maybe Forever (ALDCGIDSLCAMF, for short), I joined Match Fucking Dot Com. For one month. ONE MONTH, and end scene—I shall forever abandon my Sisyphean online dating endeavors.
And (2) to quote Homeland Security: If You See Something, Say Something™. Friends, you have to tell me when you see the metaphorical spinach in my teeth, OK? If there’s some invisible-to-myself road block I’m throwing up, let your girl know. For real.
Proficient
1. You know, as recently as a few months ago, I would’ve put cooking in the Developing category, but I’ve had some pretty consistent victories lately. ‘Member those carnitas? <licks chops>
Also, I marinated chicken. (Me, out on the town with friends: “You guys, I’m marinating chicken right now.” Friend: (pause) “Is it… is it in the fridge?” Hahaha. I couldn’t blame her for checking—I’ve made some questionable judgment calls in the past.)
I made Chinese chicken salad with it.
That sludgy business in the jelly jar? Homemade sesame-ginger motherfucking salad dressing. Booyah.
I mean, every once in a while, mistakes are made.
In hindsight, there were a number of points at which a different decision could have rendered a more desirable outcome.
But for the most part, I’m feeding myself yummy, healthy things, so I’m gonna go ahead and declare myself Proficient in the cooking department.
Hubris? Probably.
2. CrossFit. Listen, I’m never going to be competitive. That’s OK. But I’ve been lifting heavy objects for nearly three years, and I’ve got pretty skrong, y’all (265-lb deadlift last night—what what!). And my form on most things is solid. Coach Rich watched me doing snatches the other day, and he said, “God, you’re so good at that.” :)
3. Storytelling/hosting storytelling events. If you’ve seen me at the Monti, I think you’d agree I’m getting better and better.
Accomplished
1. Teaching. I’m a good teacher. I’m not an exceptional teacher. I don’t take work home with me, and I don’t blaze any pedagogical trails, but I try to do cool things with my students, and I work hard to improve my practice every year.
2. Fostering dogs/getting them adopted. Git yer dogs here at Amy’s House o’ Pit Bulls!
3. Blogging. I have a readership. It’s small but, based on a pie chart I only sort of understand, I believe very loyal. (Thanks, guys!)
Distinguished
1. Jackshit.
Except one thing that I won’t share here because this is a family show. ;)
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Now you go. Don’t be shy. This is not about judgment. It’s about personal growth.
I’m cooking! I cook! I’m a cooker!
This afternoon I made breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the week. I win everything.
Let’s start with breakfasts. Take eight eggs, scramble ’em. Mix ’em with half an onion (diced), a cup of chopped spinach, some salty-pepper, and either cheese or crumbled bacon or chopped up breakfast links. (I’ve done all three. The only one that didn’t work was when, instead of tossing in crumbled bacon, I decided to line the cups with bacon strips. I’d seen it in a magazine or something. I ended up with perfectly cooked eggy cups wrapped in mostly raw bacon. Mmm, trichinosis.) Fill sprayed muffin tin cups about 2/3 of the way full. Bake at 350 for half an hour. Voila!
Then, the old standby, magic çoup.
And now for the pièce de frickin résistance: crispy slow cooker carnitas.
It was a little touch-and-go there for a minute at the end because the recipe asked for broiling. But once I figured out where the broiler was (It’s that drawer! Under the oven! That’s not just storage!) and got Redford’s giant skull out of the way, I was broiling! I broiled! I’m a broiler!
I put it with a little chopped cilantro and white onion and some tortilla chips.
Cooking for Dumbs: Magic Çoup!
You guys. I made soup.
The other day my friend Dori posted a recipe for chorizo and kale soup on Facebook. I looked at the ingredients and was like, “Yes. Yes. Um, yes. Oh hell yes.”
Tonight when I went to the grocery store, I looked for the meat but couldn’t find it, so I eventually went to the meat guy and asked where he kept his linguiça. (No, I didn’t really ask like that! I learned my lesson about crafting one’s requests of the grocer.) He stopped what he was doing, walked out from the behind the meat counter and down the aisle to show me, so then when I remembered I was actually supposed to be getting chorizo, not linguiça, I was too embarrassed to go back and ask again. Didn’t matter didn’t matter SO DIDN’T MATTER ONE BIT.
Linguiça and kale soup!!
You guys, make it. Make this çoup. I’m pretty sure this çoup is one of the reasons why we’re here on this earth.
Super-Sparse Retrobruxist Friday 1/18/13
Oh, here’s a good story from three years ago. I still have that chair. It still has a pillow on it.
Two years ago I thought about going paleo. That’s as far as it got.
A year ago I had a bad feeling about the stray that I found. Indeed, that feeling was an omen. But that whole debacle was the thing that brought fostering into my life, and it has really been something, hasn’t it?
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
So Much More Than Retrobruxist Friday 1/4/13 or, How Many Times Can I Link to My Own Shit in One Post?, Also New Year’s Resolutions!
First of all, thanks for your comments/voicemails/emails of support, but I’m fine. I actually feel fine—no joke. I had been feeling more optimistic about this relationship than previous ones, so yes, I was a little disappointed when the Dutchman bowed out. And startled. He seemed in it to win it, you know? But I really do feel all right.
Because truth be told, my Man*—the honest-to-jeebus One—might say, “Duck,” on this same issue, but it’s not enough to make him say, “Goose.” I can guaran-damn-tee it. I got too much going for me. I feel good.
That being said, I’m not getting back on OKCupid. I’ve been banging my head against that wall too long. So the Universe is going to have to deliver me my partner some other way.
*GAH. I am so heteronormative (heterosexual?). I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to be open to lezzing out.
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Three years ago, I set the bar low. This year, I’m setting the bar, eh, maybe torso-high?
First, let’s reflect on last year’s resolutions, shall we? I don’t floss (#2) or make my bed (#4) as much as I had hoped I would, but heck if I haven’t reduced my sugar intake (#5) by pounds. GOOD FOR ME. I have a sugary treat a few times a week, maybe some Greek yogurt with various mix-ins (I feel a vlog coming on!). I don’t think about sugar as much, and that’s truly a revelation.
I tried to dress better (#1), but I didn’t really have the tools, did I? I give myself a pass on that one.
I did SO VERY WELL not engaging in political or religious debates on Facebook (#3). Not perfectly, but on the few occasions that I slipped up, I was usually able to sit on my hands after one comment.
My self-talk (#6) was not good. I utterly failed at being nice to myself. I’M A FAILURE. I SUCK.
Hahahaha.
I was in a romantic relationship (#7)… Can I count it as a two-year relationship since it spanned 2012-2013? I think so.
So this year! Here goes:
1. Manage my depression/anxiety. My treatment requires a cocktail of interventions: amino acids, vitamins, exercise, time with friends, dog-walks, and some sort of regular group or individual therapy. I had let the last bit slide for financial reasons, and that was a bad move. But as of yesterday, I’m back in the game!
Woohoo!
Mental health!
Yeah!
Yeah.
Ugh.
2. Eat even less sugar. I’m interested in what a no-sugar (except special occasions) Amy would feel like. This resolution will commence once I’ve finished the can of whipped cream in my fridge. And maybe my Greek yogurt. Maybe this resolution sucks?
3a. Dress better. Now I have the tools. Fashion! Gonna happen!
3b. Wear makeup. But listen, I just can’t bring myself to paint my face for work. It seems ridiculous—I teach sixth grade, plus I have to be there at 7:15am. Who even invented 7:15am? So my compromise is this: lipstick during the day (I’ll even re-apply!), mascara or full makeup (as I see appropriate) when I go out on weekend nights.
Deal?
Deal.
High-five.
4. Be positive about my job. One complaint a day. That’s all I get. This’ll be hard. I had used my one complaint by 8:20 this morning.
5. Keep a cleaner house. I love a clean house, and I’m good about tidying up for company, but I have trouble putting stuff away and vacuuming if nobody’s going to see it. I tried having a chore chart for myself—that didn’t work. I also used the old put-a-sticky-note-on-the-computer trick.
I’ll take advice on how to implement this one.
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Two years ago, though I didn’t know it at the time, I wrote the original Cooking for Dumbs post! I have come so very far! My Mexican Braised Beef has gotten et at two different parties, and my bacon-wrapped dates continue to inspire all but marriage proposals!
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Speaking of parties, a year ago, I built my fire pit! Best investment of three days and 180 bucks ever. I’ve had, what?, eight or nine fires since then, including this New Year’s Eve. And that was a hellified good time.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all, and happy 2013! (What are your New Year’s resolutions?)