Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Tofu, and Notes On Not Being A Dick.

I've always been kind of meh on tofu.  It's kind of slimy and I don't love the texture.  But every vegan recipe site I look at (since I am a proud faux-vegan) is all tofu this, tofu that, you must gargle with tofu 3x a day.  So I tried it again and Das Bich recommended baking the tofu first, which dries it out and gives it a more meat-y texture.  Last night I pressed the tofu first instead, laying it on a plate lined with a paper towel, laying another paper towel and plate over top, then laying a heavy cookbook on top of the plate.  This squeezes out the extra moisture and firms up the tofu.  And then I did this:

Slice tofu into 1/4" slices, then in half.  In a small bowl add soy sauce, in a separate small bowl mix together panko bread crumbs, 1 Tb nutritional yeast, 1 tsp dry mustard, 1/2 tsp garlic powder, and 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper. Spray cookie sheet with baking spray.  Dredge tofu slices in soy sauce, then bread crumb mixture, then lay on cookie sheet.  Bake at 350 for 1/2 an hour, flipping slices halfway through.  I had mine with a side of lemony sauteed kale from our kale-zilla plant.

Mooch has become a persnickety eater as she got older, but she loved these.  She kept asking if they were chicken or cheese (suckah)  Forget about the Mister coming near these - he is not down with faux-veganism.  He's all about the Paleo diet these days and if I hear "but is it Paleo?" one more time I may lose my shit.

This week started out with me being stressed about everything I have to finish up at my current job.  I start in a new department on August 6th, and my baby brat sister B'lanna is getting married on the 25th.  My house looked like a tornado hit it.  It was very all about me and how stressed I was, and then someone walked into a movie theater in Colorado and killed a lot of people, including a six year old little girl.  And if there is ANY positive, and positive doesn't even seem the right word, out of these horrific unimaginable senseless things; maybe it's that for some of us it makes us hit the reset button on our "all caught up in me" world.  I hugged the girls so tight they complained, and fixed my husband the stupid f-ing Paleo dinner he requested. I put together a big bag of stuff to donate to Goodwill.  I made a conscious effort to smile at everyone, and played parking meter fairy.  It's my small response of putting positivity back into the world when people are hurting and reeling and angry and scared.  And I re-posted a portion of Obama's speech that he made regarding what happened in Colorado to my FB page.  Because he was essentially summing up my feelings - pay more attention to how we treat each other.  And it turned into a politicized freaking argument. 

In the midst of this I was accused of "living in a haze".  You know what?  Fine.  Yes I do not follow politics to the point I can rattle off statistics, because the more I learn about politics the more it becomes crystal clear that all politicians are more or less actors who will tell us whatever we want to hear.  And the more I follow them the more frustrated I become.  And the more frustrated I become, my patience with everything goes down, and that's not good.  Because ultimately I think it's the small things that matter the most - and how we treat each other is the end-all, be-all.  The truth is if you look back over your day and realize that 90% of the time you were either annoyed or stressed or angry, then you're not being a positive force in this world, no matter what you're doing.  If you realize that almost everything you've said in a day has either been argumentative or negative, THEN YOU NEED TO CHANGE.  And if you make a decision not to then you own a small piece of the bad things that happen in this world, no matter how you spin it.  And if consciously trying to be positive and spread the love is a "hazy" point of view ... then stay hazy :-)

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Rodents of Unusual Size?

I don't think they exist.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Here Is Your Chance To Be Super Awesome

Tegan was the first person to tattoo me (and probably the last) and she also inked a giant pin-up girl on the Mister's shoulder.  She was one of my bestest childhood friend's girlfriends for a while.  She moved a few years ago and I still hear updates on her occasionally from a mutual friend who drives 4 hours to get tattooed by her because she is hands down the best, least painful tattoo artist ever.  Like, no cartoon-y cheesy crap, you could seriously hang her artwork up and it would look like something you would find at Anthropologie and want but not be able to afford.

So when her and my childhood friend broke up it got nasty for a while and of course since my friend was my friend I had his back and was on Team Anti-Tegan, which is childish and high-school-mean-girl-y (what?).  I said some things I shouldn't have said.  And then after all was said and done I felt like a dick - rightly so - and emailed her to apologize.  She didn't reply and I probably wouldn't either.  Another mutual friend linked me to her blog, and I saw that she had gotten married and had a baby and was total hippie-mama-organic-gardener-co-sleeping-breast-feeding lady.  In other words, my kind of chick.

So then I randomly look at her blog one day and the c-word is there.  There is a picture of her, dazed and in a hospital bed, after a double mastectomy.  She just had another baby, 4 1/2 months ago.  She has invasive ductal carcinoma, stage 2.  She had to stop breastfeeding her daughter, get a double mastectomy, and then start chemotherapy.  She has no health insurance, and since she is self-employed, is not eligible for unemployment or disability.  Yeah.  And you know what she is thinking about?  She set up a breast milk donation page for her daughter, Joslyn, so she will continue receiving breastmilk (which also needs couriers and other kinds of support -

There are stories on her blog of her daughter crying and rooting around for her breast, while Tegan lets down milk that she can't feed her daughter because she still has radioactive chemicals in her body.  She talks about the frustration of not being able to work and make money when she needs to make money to fight her cancer.
Dudes.  Fuck cancer.

Here is her website with a link to a PayPal account that you can donate to, and don't forget to look over her amazing designs -
Anything is better than nothing.  It will make you feel so good to give sparkly unicorns may fly out of your butt.  And if you know anyone in Jersey who could help her out, please spread the word.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Phonetic Alphabet Done RIGHT

Because I have an uncommon first name and a monstrosity of an Italian last name, almost every time I'm speaking on the phone I get asked to spell my name.  And then the panic sets in because I cannot remember if "d" is dog or diptheria or demonstrative.  "G" is even worse. 

I was on the phone with a hotel clerk this morning making a reservation for SB and he asked the dreaded "G as in ...." and trailed off. 
G as in goat.
Did you just say goat? *snicker*
Umm, yeah.  (OMG I hate your stupid face)

The lovely Beth helped me come up with a MUCH more user-friendly phonetic alphabet.

A as in Appolonia
B as in Bratwurst
C as in Conundrum
D as in Divorcee
E as in Elliptical
F as in your Mom.  BOOM.  (Not my fault if whoever you're speaking to hangs up)  As an alternative you can also use formidable.
G as in Gelatinous
H as in Homoerotic
I as in Invasive procedure
J as in Jorge
K as in Kim Zolciak
M as in Menarche
N as in notyourproblem
O as in O-face
P as in prescription, those are prescription
Q as in Quinoa
R as in Romper room
S as in Slutty
T as in Tumultuous
U as in Uterus
V as in Victorious vagina
W as in White trash
X as in X-mas
Y as in YOLO
Z as in Zacquisha

You are welcome, world!
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