Friday, August 24, 2012

On My Mind

This might seem a bit repetitive to you all, especially with the the picture (of that lovely, gorgeous specimen of the best apple variety to every grace this planet), but I can't help it.  Apples might just be my favorite part of fall.  No lie, I've bought 4 lbs before and eaten them all, with Handsome's help, in a week.  Because we're champs like that.

I swear, though, it's not just apples.  Nope.  Here's a little picture of what I've been thinking about, to see if you're not blind you can guess...



I'm so excited to make CARAMEL apples!  When I had flown into SLC a few weeks ago, there was a Rocky Mountain Candy Factory stand in the airport.  It seemed angels might just be singing.  I love love love (and don't even hesitate) to spend some of my hard-earned per diem on a caramel apple for lunch.  It's fresh, it's sweet, it makes me smile just thinking about it... in a word, D-lish.  And then I remembered.  I was doing #7.  Which for me meant no candy.  And while I wasn't sure if chocolate was actually a candy (don't judge, I worked it out), I knew that caramel was most definitely a candy.  Which meant that caramel apples were most definitely not in my future.  I'd have to waste my per diem on something else.  (For the record, I also tried to snag an AA's Hot Pretzel, but they were out.  Most disappointing airport food experience ever.)

Last year, for Handsome's birthday bash/Halloween party, we served, among other things, some caramel apple fondue.  Oh. My. Lawd.  It was heaven.  You slice up a pretty little apple, dunk it in some sprite then dry it off (for anti-browning purposes), and stick it on a skewer.  Then you make caramel, pour it in a crock pot, and keep it on low/warm.  Dip and much to your heart's content.  So good.  Problem is, I cant' remember the recipe we used.  So I started looking.  And then I started finding.  And now I have a slight obsession and want to try all the recipes I found.

In case you have the same problem obsession love, I've gathered the caramel apple recipes here for you, too!  Really, the recipes are just for the caramel parts, as God makes the apples.  But whatevs.  Oh, and I've taken the liberty of re-naming them.  Because I can.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Official Fall Dream List

Excuse me.  Excuse me please, I have an announcement to make.

{...} (<-- I don't know what that means, but for the remainder of our relationship, let's pretend it's a drum roll)

ASIDE: Usually at this point, if I told this to someone, I would have to preface my announcement with "... and no, I'm not pregnant."  Except now I am.  HA!  That probably doesn't crack anyone else up the way it does me.  Oh well.

I feel it is my duty to inform you that it is officially Fall.  Yep.  Autumn, if you'd rather call it that.  I know the month is August, which definitely felt like a Summer month, coming in.  Doesn't matter.  Two very important things have happened: classes have started, and I bought an apple-cider-scented candle.  I mean, really, who can argue with those facts?  They actually happened.  Can't fight that.

And both of those things (pie-themed seasonal candles and young-faced-18-year-olds-away-from-home-for-the-first-time-wandering-campus-and-making-bad-decisions) inarguably mean "Fall" to me.  I know that if I only had something concrete to show you, such as a delightful Honey Crisp Apple (I'm drooling here), you'd believe me for sure.

My love.
via
Note: It is only after reading the post I ripped this picture from that I realized
(1) The picture is from kitchendaily.com, wherever that is
(2) I could plant a honey crisp tree.  Or 9.

Let's call a truce, oh you who think that Fall doesn't start until the autumnal equinox.  Let's just agree to disagree (on everything but honey crisp apples [HCA's 4eva]).  And now that we've settled it, here's my list for things I dream of happening during this Fall season, however you wish to define said season.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Super Sniffer

Apparently, I was mistaken.  I had thought that when the pregnancy nose kicked in, that I would know.  I think that if you suddenly inherit a super power, you should be aware of it.  I mean, Spiderman definitely knew when the radioactive spider bit him; Johnny of the Fantastic 4 certainly realized it when he turned into the human flame (are you impressed with my nerd level yet?  I can keep going...).  But it seems that when I came to be in possession of a bloodhound-approved super sniffer, no one bothered to tell me.  I just went to the grocery store, easy as you please, and started shopping.  

Everything was going fine, produce wasn't a problem... just making my way through the store.  And then I got to the bakery.  I love baked goods.  I mean, what about these:


and this:


and this:


(hungry yet?)

One of my very favorite things is cinnamon rolls.  But when I got to that bakery section, it seemed that Ingles was pumping straight cinnamon and sugar out of the air vents and onto my face.  My gosh.  I had to interrupt an employee eating lunch to ask her where the bathroom was, because I thought I was going to vom.  It was rough.  It wasn't until later that I realized that Ingles wasn't experimenting with a subliminal message that went wrong, but rather I was smelling things more violently than before.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Sunday Confessions

This is Sunday, right?

Assuming I'm right about the day of the week, I believe it's time for Sunday Confessions Link-up with Alyx over at Every Day is a New Adventure.  Oh, and in case you don't know Alyx, let me tell you that (1) She's the bomb diggity, and (2) I wish she'd move (even though she just did) be my neighbor and we would have good times all the time.



1.  I had a dream a week ago.  I dreamt that I would get back to my house, and all would be calm.  The world would be calm.  Perhaps even turn a little slower.  All would be serenity and peacefulness.  That dream was falsehood and lies.

2.  There is a truckload (two and a half, actually) of lumber in my carport.  Because yesterday at 2 PM some friends showed up and we said "Hey, do you think we could build a shed today?" and then things happened. These friends.  Things always happen with them.  Generally good things (minus the 'stache in the picture below - never good), but it's always something.


3. There's a half of a shed in my backyard.  It almost looks like a cage for bear fighting.  I've never seen a bear in South Carolina.  I'd love to see this shed finished in South Carolina.  Preferably within the month of August.


Thursday, August 16, 2012

Picking Up Mail: My Neighbors Might Be Dead

Here's my question: When do you file a missing person's report on someone who you barely know?  I'm sure there's a protocol for this, but I don't know it.  I do know that I'm seriously worried moderately concerned about my neighbors.

Remember Mary & Harold?  The one's with the beautiful yard?  The giggly old man and his super-hero wife?


Well, back in APRIL, about mid-way through, Mary came over to the house.  It was unusual, but I was happy to have her.  She sat at my table in the weird walk-through-maybe-a-dining-area-but-definitely-not-a-room place, and we chatted.  She scraped at the dried-up-something that was on my table with her fingernail.  I was embarrassed, but tried to ignore it.  After all, there wasn't anything I could do about it now.  Plus, at least it gave her something to do with her hands.

When our visit was nearly over, she told me about her grandson - great baseball player.  Her & the mister were going to be traveling up to Illinois here in the next couple of days.  Gonna be gone for 6 weeks.  And don't you know, the post office will only hold your mail for a month; after that, it gets returned to sender.  She asked if I would mind picking up her mail for her.  Said she'd bring me back some cheese, if I liked cheese.  

I love cheese, almost as much as I love getting mail.  It was a great proposition.  I wish people propositioned me like that all the time.  But as I said, this was in April.  It is now mid-August.  April to May, 1 month.  May to June, 2 months.  June to July, 3 months.  July to August, 4 months.  FOUR MONTHS.  Instead of the stated 6 weeks.  Like, three times as long.  

My objection to this delay has nothing to do with getting their mail.  Although I have become a little more lax, picking it up only every 2 or 3 days, I don't mind doing it.  It's the fact that they said six weeks and it's been four months, combined with the fact that I watch too much Law & Order.  Handsome says that since their lawn keeps getting mowed (by a company) and their electric still turns on, they must be alive to be paying the bills.  However, I think I've gotten to him.  I told him it could be a direct draft situation.  So next time they come, he's going to ask them if they've actually talked to Mary & Harold.  

Do you have any other suggestions for us?  We don't have a phone number, or even know the names of the family they went to visit.  For the record, if I'm ever gone for 3x as long as I said, please come looking for me.

Wanting to be a good citizen,
TFW

Friday, August 10, 2012

I'm so Ready


Ready to be home.

Ready to kiss my handsome (and lately, longsuffering) husband.

Ready to not pack a single bag for a long time.

Ready to daily gaze at what is fast becoming my favorite tree (can you even imagine it in the fall?!?).

Ready for fall.

Ready (ish) for school.  All but the bill, really.  You understand.

Ready to have my things around me.

Ready to clean crap out of my house in a big way. (Did someone say yardsale??)

Ready to attack my research with a vengeance.

Ready to lean how to spell the word "vengeance".

Ready to get into a habit of daily bible & prayer - I'm talking mornings here, people.  It's necessary for me.

Ready to get into a habit of daily exercise & eating better.

Ready to make some changes around my house.

Ready to make a home for Magagnotti-Little.

Ready for fall.

Ready for the #7 eating portion to be over (10 more days!).

Ready for what's next that I don't even know I'm ready for.

Ready for the 4 plants worth of Jalapenos that are waiting my return.  What's a girl to do with 15+ jalapenos?

Ready to smooch my devastatingly good looking and all around charming husband.  (What?  A girl can't smooch her hubby twice?  If you've got one, go smooch him right now.  Then do it again.  See if anything bad happens.  It won't, I promise.)

Ready to connect with y'all again.  I've missed you.

Ready to not feel sick, ever.

Ready for a cabana boy to come pack this one last bag for me.

But mostly, right now, I'm soooo ready to go to bed.  
Peace out homies.  
Goodnight Utah.  
LYLAS(NASW).  

Acronyms are contagious,
TFW
p.s.- bonus points if you figure out the entire acronym

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

A Bag of Frozen Popcorn Chicken

I know I said I wasn't gonna be back here until my travels were done. But do you know how long a two week blogging break really is?  I haven't had it professionally measured, but I'm pretty sure its somewhere between infinity and forever.

That's not why I'm breaking this fast early though (and I don't mean "fast" in the religious sense, more I'm the breakfast sort of way, lest you judge).  No, wild horse could not have pulled me back, no way; it took an act of God.  And by "act of God," I'm talking about a bag of frozen popcorn chicken.


Without further ado, here's the story I had to come back to share with you...

I've been picking up my neighbors' mail for them for about 4 months now, since they've been dead out of town.  More on that later. Anyhow, tonight, on my way to their mailbox, I was chatting with me madre on the phone when I spied something in the road.  She's telling a story, so I don't interrupt, just pick up the something, grab the mail, and walk back to my house.  

As we get back to my house, I say, "Mom, guess what I'm holding in my hand?  It's a bag of..." and then she cuts me off and says "No, no, I want to guess.  Did you say it's a bag of something?  Say it again, you already let that part out."  So I say, "Yes, I said 'its a bag of...'"  And I about gave her a hint.  I did.  I almost at least told her how improbable it would be for her to guess.  But I didn't.  I didn't tell her anything else.  Because as I was holding what is in that picture above, my mother, 654 miles away, says "Uhm... A bag of frozen popcorn chicken!"

I'm not lying.   Sometimes I fib, but this is straight verbatim.  This happened.  To me.  Tonight.

I freaked out, obviously.  I demanded to know if she was in SC.  I accused her of using military satellites (or at least google earth) to spy on me.  She denied it all.  She had no explanation.  She then incorrectly guessed me as wearing a gray shirt (red), and although she could tell me what color Duke was, I don't think that actually counts.

All the same, it happened.  The world held still and the space-time continuum was breached.   Basically, she hacked my life, and I don't know how.  I guess that's just the type of bond we have.

And that's what I had to come back here to tell you.  I mean, how could I not share that with you?!?  Now I'm going back on break.  My next (and final, hallelujah!) trip starts at 4:30 in the AM tomorrow.  But then that's it.  After that, life as usual will resume.  I love life as usual.

I'm out,
TFW

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