I bought a house, and I’m finally starting to feel like it’s home. There are still strange smells sometimes, but slowly, this is turning into home. The bedroom with the oxygen-tank-green walls is now a more muted shade of green. The floors upstairs are still all painted. I’m thinking of carpeting my bedroom rather than refinishing it.

It’s frustrating right now, because I need to save money to buy oil. This means NOT spending money on a couch or an entertainment center or a sander to get the floors pretty or art to hang on my walls. I think Nate thinks I’m being lazy because I’m not working around the house.

My arm is still nearly constantly hurting. The neurologist I saw a couple months ago prescribed Elavil, which I did not start taking right away. However, after taking it for a month, I called him and asked him for something else. It didn’t help with the pain at all, but more than that, I’ve been so sleepy all the time, completely unable to concentrate, and just feel fuzzy in my brain. Instead of switching me to something else, like he said was the plan (try it, if I don’t like it, we’ll try another one), he said, “Follow up with your primary care doctor.”

I’m beginning to think that no one wants to help me with this, they’d rather just turf me to someone else.

Just to round out my complaints, I’ve had a headache ever since I stopped the amitriptyline, which a cursory Googling shows to be mainly coincidental, but annoying nonetheless.

More than anything, I want to get better at keeping this up to date. I’ve been lazy about writing. I’ve been lazy about a lot of things. I’ve gained almost all my weight back (I was at a high of 235, then I got down to 186, then back up to 213). Nate bought the Balance Board to go with the Wii, and I’ve lost 3 pounds again … we’ll just cross our fingers I can keep it up. Down. Off. Whatever. But if I keep insisting that I’m going to write, maybe I’ll do some interesting things worth writing about? We’ll see.

I love this man.

Nate and I went to Portland to hang out with his friends this weekend. It was awesome, as usual. Friday was drinks at Novare Res (for everyone else, of course. I might have tried the raspberry mead I hear was on tap a week earlier, but otherwise I don’t care for beer).

Saturday was breakfast at BreaLu, then loaf around the house until it was time to go back to Novare Res. I got myself a black cherry soda, and we played Lunch Money. Right as it was time to leave, there was a torrential downpour, and we got back to Rory’s totally soaked. I’m glad we had more clothes to wear, but I wish that either I hadn’t been wearing my converses or I’d grabbed my sandals out of my backseat when I realized we were taking Nate’s car down to Portland. I had wet shoes for the rest of the day :(

For dinner last night we went to Gauchos, which was incredible. I might be a vegetarian now, though. I seriously was doing okay until the sword-o-chicken-hearts came by, and I realized that one chicken had to die for each of those bite-sized morsels and then I remembered the piles of meat I had just eaten and I lost my appetite. I didn’t want to even see meat anymore, but we had to wait until everyone was done to leave and ughhhh. A combination of feeling sick and overstuffing my gullet led to my going to bed early (or rather, passing out on Rory’s couch while everyone played Wii next door), but at least I felt better afterwards.

This morning we had breakfast at Bayou, then headed back up to Bangor, but not without stopping at Fort Williams Park. We climbed on all the kinds of rocks I was never allowed to climb on as a kid, found pretty snails, and teased the seagulls with empty crab legs. I’m glad my shoes had dried out :P

Anyway, enjoy the pictures. I carried my camera with me all weekend, but got self-conscious about it and didn’t take any pictures until it was just me and Nate, and it was almost all over. Next time I’ll do better.

Nate took me out to Ichiban the other night and DAMN was it good. I had a sashimi platter and he got something that looked like this.

I’m salivating just remembering it.

I think my body is rejecting Burger King. See, I haven’t eaten fast food in so long, but there was a coupon for a free whopper staring at me all morning at work. Then when I left, I realized the coupon expired on the 29th, but it was too late. I had to satisfy the craving. Now I’m so sick and I don’t think I ever want to eat again. Seriously can’t figure out how I used to eat there all the time.

I’m wicked excited about losing weight. I unofficially lost 4 more pounds since the last time I weighed myself, but I will officially check on Monday. I will be back out of cardiology so I’ll be able to do things like see the scale and remember that I do that on Mondays.

I’m wicked full right now. Ohh, honey crisp chicken salad, you tempt me so. Damn you. Also you give me heartburn.

I’m also wicked excited about the possibility of Best Vacation Ever happening in May, but I must cross my fingers that my time off request is approved.

I’m wicked jealous of Nate’s new computer. It’s shiny and new. And fast. And sexy. Basically, all of the things mine is not.

I’m wicked excited about my birthday next week. Seriously. I love birthdays. I always feel awkward when people give me things, but I love having another reason to go out and have fun with people.

And finally, I remembered tonight how wicked spoiled I am. You have no idea.

Oh, Green Day. Why can’t I get you out of my head? Between you and Offspring, my brain is currently on vacation in another decade. I know you want to hit that, I know you want to hit that hit that …

My lips are so sore. It started out that they were just chapped, but I think I must have been chewing on them in my sleep or nervousness or something, because they’re all raw. And then I ate sour strawberries, which I think had more acid than I really should have been putting on them. Yeah. At least this time I only burned my lips instead of getting a wicked stomachache. I think I ate too much of the white the other day.

I feel unsettled about something, but I don’t know what yet. Something is coming up and it’s not going to be good. Something in the next couple weeks. Ugh. So frustrating.

But that reminds me, I found a really neat woo woo shop online. Some of the pendulums are really pretty.

I knew that if I ate the whole carton of strawberries, I would regret it, so I didn’t. I ate three strawberries, and not even very big ones at that.

Now my stomach hurts and I am angry.

I had to go to the grocery store to get 2 9-volt batteries (both of my smoke alarms are dead! I am glad I have not had a fire), dryer sheets, and shampoo. I didn’t even buy conditioner, which I usually do because I like my shampoo and conditioner to match. But at the moment, I have four or five bottles of conditioner in my shower and only one bottle of shampoo, so I just got shampoo. Now I have two shampoos. Much better. But also not the point.

As I walked into the grocery store, I got smacked by a wave of delicious strawberry smell, so I ended up buying a package of those. Well, if I have strawberries, I’ll need to get some sour cream. Ooh! Baked potato! So I pick up a potato. Then on the way to the battery aisle, I walked past the Easter candy and there was a bag of raspberry (read: pink) 3 Musketeers. They’re so pretty. And also probably delicious. Then on the way to get the sour cream, there was a bargain bin of baked beans, so I got a can of those. So tonight I am eating baked potato, baked beans, and strawberries. It will be delicious and I really should go get it started so that I can eat it.

In regards to the recent suggestion that I get all dressed up and crash my neighbor’s Sunday dinner …

While intriguing (especially now that it’s six o’clock and I’m starving), the opportunity for embarrassment far outweighs the opportunity for a free meal. And besides, I don’t think I could keep a straight face.

So here’s what today’s menu was supposed to be:

Rotisserie’d turkey
My grandfather’s Deluxe Rolls
Mashed potatoes
Sweet potatoes
Brussels Sprouts
Snow peas
Key Lime Pie
Boston Cream Pie

I got up early to get the rolls started. I made the dough, put it in a greased bowl and put the bowl in front of the heater. It was supposed to double in 2 hours. Over the next two hours I made both pies and finished cleaning up the living room/bathroom. Well, as much as I could until the vacuum cleaner died.

I started to put the turkey in the rotisserie and found out that I was missing a part. Okay, new plan. I don’t have a turkey-roasting rack, but I do have a cage from the rotisserie that I think you’re supposed to use for kabobs or something. I stuffed the cage full of carrots, put the turkey on the cage, and preheated the oven to 500. I put the turkey in the oven, waited five minutes for the smoke to come billowing out, then put a fan in the window and carried on. After 30 minutes, I was supposed to take the turkey out, put aluminum foil over the breast, and reduce the heat to 350. I got all of that done PLUS got a nice fat 2nd degree burn on my hand right on my mound of Venus (totally SFW — I’m not talking about the one in my crotch). I’m just wicked talented like that.

After all that, I checked on my rolls. Erh … there is no rising happening. So no rolls. I call my parents and ask them to pick some up on their way over. “No problem,” they say. “Everyone has something go wrong, and having the dough not rise is bound to be the worst of your problems.” I figured I’d tell them about the burn on my hand as a lighthearted story over dinner.

On to the potatoes! I peel both sets of potatoes, chop them up, and put them in water. I set them on the stove, ready for cooking in a little while. I worked on dinner’s playlist for a while, trying to meld my father’s taste with whatever wouldn’t drive the rest of us crazy over two hours.

My parents arrive around this time, and I take their arrival as a sign that I can hop in the shower for a couple minutes because I felt pretty skanky. When I came out again, I checked on the turkey. Half an hour of 500 degrees made it beautifully golden brown, but the thermometer barely registered anything at all, plus the oven thermometer I’d stuck in there read about 175. I pulled my mom over (quietly, trying not to get my dad’s attention), and she suggested we bring the heat up to 450 or so. Maybe my thermostat was broken. Then we tried to start the potatoes and none of the burners worked. I was out of propane.

They took me (and the friends I’d invited, who walked in the door just as I was crying about my failed dinner) out to lunch, but I am feeling awful. I wanted so badly to entertain people for a real meal. I do know how to cook, I promise. But shit like this happens and I never want to cook again.

PS, I haven’t tried the key lime pie yet, but the Boston Cream came out pretty good. I mean, it’s Boston Cream. It’s pretty tough to screw that up.

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Originally uploaded by dianarchy
A leaning tower of everlasting pasta bowl at olive garden.

Uploaded by dianarchy on 12 Oct 07, 8.53PM EDT.

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Originally uploaded by dianarchy
A piece of chicken kiev left over from yesterday’s steam table entree. Now it’s on the salad bar and solidified.

Uploaded by dianarchy on 4 Oct 07, 11.43AM EDT.

Mr. Noodle – New York Times

The news last Friday of the death of the ramen noodle guy surprised those of us who had never suspected that there was such an individual. It was easy to assume that instant noodle soup was a team invention, one of those depersonalized corporate miracles, like the Honda Civic, the Sony Walkman and Hello Kitty, that sprang from that ingenious consumer-product collective known as postwar Japan.

Marcus and I made this for dinner tonight. It’s very, very delicious, but I don’t know the origin of the recipe. There are some in my family that are not to be shared with others (my dad’s spaghetti sauce recipe, for one. I’m not even sure he knows I have it), but if you remind me, I’ll call my mom and ask if I can post it. I believe this is something she (or her mother, probably) got from when she was living in Japan when she was about 13?

Basically, it’s chicken breast pieces cooked in a sweet(ish) sauce of garlic and the juice from canned mandarin oranges and pineapple preserves. It’s then garnished with the mandarin oranges and served over rice. Mmmmmm. It’s everything I like about “chinese” food, but it doesn’t make me sick!

Picture

Originally uploaded by dianarchy.

… best served with a bowl to catch shells, stems, and pits.

… oreo cookie milkshake …

Another one from Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook.

4 oz dried spaghetti
1 T butter
1 beaten egg
1/4 c grated Parmesan cheese
8 oz ground beef
1/2 c chopped onion
1/2 c chopped green bell pepper
1 clove of garlic, minced
1/2 t fennel seed, crushed
1 8 oz can tomato sauce
1 t dried oregano, crushed
Nonstick spray coating
1 c ricotta cheese (the original recipe calls for cottage cheese; I don’t like that, so I substitute with ricotta)
1/2 c shredded mozzarella cheese

Cook spaghetti for 10 to 12 minutes or until al dente. Drain well.

Return spaghetti to warm saucepan. Stir butter into hot pasta until melted. Stir in egg and Parmesan cheese.

Meanwhile, in a medium skillet cook ground beef, onion, pepper, garlic, and fennel seed till meat is brown and onion is tender. Drain fat. Stir in tomato sauce and oregano; heat through.

Spray a 9″ pie plate with nonstick coating. Press spaghetti mixture onto bottom and up sides of pie plate (using two forks, a wooden spoon, or a rubber spatula. Or, you know, your hands), forming a crust. Spread ricotta cheese on bottom and up sides of crust. Spread meat mixture over ricotta cheese. Sprinkle with shredded mozarella cheese.

Bake in a 350 degree oven for 20 to 25 minutes or until bubbly. Makes 6 main-dish servings.

My sister emailed this recipe of my mother’s to me, so I’m not sure of the source, besides “my mom.” I’ve made a few changes to it as far as spices and cheese amounts go. This is not the recipe for the lactose intolerant.

Baked Macaroni!

3 c bechamel sauce
1 lb noodles (I usually use big noodles that’ll grip the cheese well. Rotini or big elbows.)
4 oz fresh grated parmesan cheese
1 lb bag of each (shredded): cheddar cheese and monterrey jack
1/2 lb of asiago, shredded
salt and pepper
two small handfuls of breadcrumbs, italian or regular, your choice (I can’t tell the difference, honestly)
1 bag of croutons

Bechamel sauce:
3 T flour
3 T butter
1/2 onion, minced
2 1/2 c hot milk
peppercorns
thyme
bay leaf
salt
grated nutmeg
paprika

In a top of a double boiler, heat the butter till bubbly (I don’t have a double boiler. I use a teflon pan and keep an eye on it). Add the onion and let it cook over very low heat for 3-4 minutes. When I add the onion, I put the milk in the microwave on 50% for 4 minutes, and then it’s ready basically when I am. Stir in the flour and cook for a few minutes more. Make sure the flour is sprinkled and not clumped, or your roux will suck the mostest (this line is a direct quote from my sister, and it’s so very very much “her”, I’m keeping it in). Then add the milk bit by bit and stir with anything but a whisk (the original recipe said to stir with a whisk, but all the onions got stuck on the inside of the whisk and it was a pain in the ass to get it out). The sauce will begin to thicken after a few minutes. add a few peppercorns, some thyme, a bay leaf; sprinkle in some salt, nutmeg and paprika and let it cook slowly for 10-15 minutes, then strain through a sieve. (You know you have enough paprika when the bechemel is pink. Don’t worry, it won’t turn your noodles pink. The rest of the spices are to taste.)

Now, boil the pasta in some salt water till al dente. Butter a 9″ x 13″ pyrex baking dish. As soon as the pasta is ready, drain it and place it in a large mixing bowl. Add the cheeses, bechemel sauce, and bread crumbs. Then pour the gooey mixture into the baking dish. Grate on plenty of black pepper. Sprinkle the croutons all over the top. Put the dish in a preheated 350 degree oven and bake for 15-20 minutes.