Tag Archives: San Diego

A Kugel-icous Recipe for Passover, too!

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I posted this for Hannukah but we make it for Passover, too. I hope you try it and enjoy! Since my stupid oven broke for the 4th time yesterday as I was making my son’s birthday cake, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make Kugel since we couldn’t get a repair appointment until Thursday and the stupid part will take a week to arrive, so we are out of luck! Stupid Sears! Stupid Kenmore! Stupid planned obsolescence!
A pic of kugel (not mine) from http://www.jpost.com/ArtsAndCulture/FoodAndWine/Article.aspx?id=290152

 

What is Kugel?                                                                                                                            Kugel is a savory or sweet pudding of potatoes or noodles usually served as a side dish. It’s of German/Jewish origin. Our family’s traditional Kugel is the sweet noodle kind and my mom’s version is to die for. Really. It’s spectacular hot or cold. I’ll make it tomorrow and take pics. It’s one of those recipes you can make a day in advance and it gets better and better. If you have any leftovers–which we never do- it freezes pretty good. I limit myself to making it only a couple times a year and I eat as much as I want and just work out a bit harder and a bit longer to burn off the calories.

Angel Boy’s Grandma’s Kugel

Ingredients

One large package wide egg noodles
One large can fruit cocktail in juice
One small can pineapple pieces in juice
One large can canned peaches and pears in heavy syrup, yes, you read that right.
At least 3 Granny Smith apples, sliced with about 1/3 cup sugar and 1-2 TBS cinnamon.
3 Eggs
2 tsp vanilla
One lemon,  juiced and zested.

This is a good dish to make in advance especially if you’re also planning to make apple pie (which I am) ‘cos you can just prepare all the apples for both dishes. The secret to this dish is a LOT of cinnamon. If you think you have enough, add a little bit more! Cook a whole package of wide egg noodles and drain. Add 3 beaten eggs with vanilla; it will be super slippery. Add the lemon juice and zest to the apple slices. Drain all the canned fruit but keep the juices; you will need them. Mix together all the canned fruits. Butter one large and one medium deep baking dish. Add a layer of noodles, then a layer of canned fruit, a layer of apples, then another layer of noodles, a layer of the canned fruit, sliced apples, more noodles, more canned fruit and apples, ending with a final layer of noodles. Pour over any remaining egg mixture, and a cup or so of the fruit juices. Be very liberal with the juice. It will all get soaked up as the kugel bakes. Jason’s grandma would dot the whole thing with a bunch of Crisco, like ¼ cup, which sounds gross, but I still follow her recipe. Some people use butter, but we don’t. Other recipes add cottage cheese and raisins, but I’ve only made it my mom’s way, although I’m sure it would be delicious. Bake covered at 300 degrees for about an hour or so depending on the pan size. Take cover off for final 15 minutes. Excellent reheated and/or cold.

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By special request

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Cowboys and Crossbones and a few others have requested pix of the new addition to our family: my Grand Shopper Tote Chanel.  I appreciate any opportunity to show off; I’m a proud mama. She went on her first outing today, first to Target, then Trader Joe’s, and up the street to Anthropologie, B/W Market, and Nicole Miller. At each location, I was treated with so much more respect and deference than usual, when I carried my old Louis Vuitton. Peasants! I’m the same girl who wears bleach stained sweats and old Yale shirts with so many holes they wouldn’t even be useful as rags. Please enjoy these pix and thank you for your interest!

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Have rubber gloves, will travel

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The tools of my trade

I’m sitting here alone in my living room, watching Lark Rise to Candleford whilst stroking the smooth black quilting of my new acquisition, my pet Chanel. I spent the entire day cleaning the house to get ready for son, DIL, and sister wife. I know it’s juvenile to call my son’s wife’s sister, “sister wife”,  but it annoys him and that makes it all worthwhile!

I think it started in 1998 when my son started college and moved just down the road a bit to have a “dorm experience” at UCSD. He lucked out with a nice boy for a roommate, but their room rapidly deteriorated. Landfill would probably be the best way to describe it. My son, the animal lover, left food outside his window for the birds, which of course brought rats, which of course he thought was cool, and kept feeding them until whoever was supposed to be in charge put an end to it.

I had gone to Bed, Bath & Beyond with the required list from school, checking off all the items that he couldn’t live without; extra long twin bed sheets, blankets, all American boy plaid comforter, a little plastic container to transport his shampoo and other toilet items to the shared bathrooms, and a large bag to collect the laundry he would bring home. Each item I threw in the basket and checked off the list was another knife to my heart and another tear rolled down my cheek. My baby angel boy was leaving. There would be no more kids trooping in to skate the halfpipe in our yard, no more boys to make cookies and smoothies for, no more driving everyone around ‘cos I was pretty much the only stay-at-home mom.

Never again would the captain and I be sneaky and follow him to his prom to make sure he was where he was supposed to be. Oh, how I long for the good old days!

UCSD is 24.5 miles away but he was only seventeen and had never been away from home unless you count a week at sixth grade camp. I worried night and day. I worried about what I did know and I worried about what I DIDN’T know he was doing. I would drive down with a care package and because I couldn’t stand it, I brought my vacuum, rubber gloves, Comet, and bleach. I was their personal maid. I didn’t do it all that often, and I don’t know how he felt about it, but I felt better. I could not stand to think he was living in that environment. When he got back from his junior year abroad in Germany, he moved into a pre-war apartment that was owned by a friend of the captain. On a semi-regular basis, I’d haul down my vacuum and other cleaning tools, and oh, yes, a pair of rubber gloves, and clean up for him. My rationale was that he was working so hard maintaining good grades that he didn’t really have time to waste on things like cleaning his toilet or doing his laundry. You do not want to know what the stove looked like, you really don’t. I scraped a couple inches of dried cheese, beans, eggs, and grease off the burners.

He’d come in the kitchen every half hour of so and say, “Good job, momma!” “I didn’t think that stuff would come off.”

“Did you even try?”

“Nope, I left it for you. Hey, I’m hungry, did you bring food?”

You might read this and think I’m joking, but I’m not. This is as fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday. The mold in his refrigerator should have been analyzed-the scientific world missed an opportunity to discover a new cure for something. How he didn’t end up with staph or botulism I’ll never know.

My angel boy was accepted to Johns Hopkins for graduate school. I flew back there–gloves packed in my suitcase–to clean his apartment. By then he was married to DIL, and she was just as enthusiastic to have me scrubbing their floors as my son was! One year the captain came along, and we worked as a team to give their home a thorough going over. The cap even moved the stove. We left no stove unturned, as it were.

After he left JH for Yale, I continued to follow them about the country to literally clean up behind them wherever they are, whether it’s Providence or New Haven. My friend is an RN and she gave me a box of rubber gloves to bring with me. I’m certainly the butt of many jokes, I’m sure. I was at the San Diego airport last year and the TSA agents were looking through my bag and when I explained what I was doing with the rubber gloves, she had to call over a co-worker so they could all laugh with at me!

There’s no moral to this story. There’s really no point to this story, either. I’m just the kind of mom who does things like that.

Today I am a woman

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Isn’t that like a Bat Mitvah thing or something? I never was BM’d; we had moved from the midwest to sunny San Diego at that point and all I cared about was getting my tan and beautiful salty skinned surfer boys. (I haven’t changed much or grown up, apparently.) My captain absentee-husband did his mitvah (good deed) today.

Before he left on this latest assignment, we were having a chat about the way I wash dishes. He has a completely insane method. Oh, I need to back up and explain that we don’t have a dishwasher. Well, there’s a dishwasher in the place that one should go; it was installed in 1968 when they built this house. It hasn’t worked in the two decades since I moved in. No, really. We’ve had several discussions about replacing it, and it just never happened. Even with the captain’s predecessor, BioDad. It simply never happened. I’m not sure why; it’s deep I’m sure, and extremely profound, or maybe the more that people told me how I can’t possibly live without a dishwasher caused me to be incredibly perverse and refuse to get one. Anyway. The funny thing is that we upgraded and got a new oven, cooktop, and refrigerator, and never got a dishwasher. Now it stands for something. It represents my contrary personality. Whatev. I am kind of attached to my not usable dishwasher where I store bags and sometimes Halloween candy that I hid from my son (to save for myself) and I forgot about for a couple years. Maybe it’s a symbolic representation of my nonfunctioning ovaries–like a placeholder for something that was at one time functioning and flowing and… Oh, geez. That just came out of nowhere. Stream of consciousness shit. It’s hard to stay focused after a glass or two of wine. So…here’s an example of another one of our conversations that are extremely strange when you pull them out of the context of regular marital interactions. Don’t forget our interpersonal communications are heightened by the very fact that we aren’t together 7/24/365. We have disagreed about the best way to wash dishes for the twenty-plus years we’ve been together. He thinks HIS way is more efficient because it uses less water and because he used to work at a restauarant when he was in high school and because he’s a captain. Those are his stupid reasons.  Step one: He takes all of the dirty dishes out of the sink, laying them on the tile counter. Step two: He fills one of the sinks with hot soapy water.  Step three: He washes the dishes and places them into the other sink. Step five: He rinses with hot water and places into drainer. MY way is my mom’s way. I keep the water running for the entire procedure and wash each dish, pot, glass individually and then rinse with hot water and put into the drainer. I know it sounds like his way is better, but I don’t like the dirty dishes piling up on the counter. That really bugs me. I don’t care if his way is better or not. I wouldn’t admit it in a million years.

This is all leading to something, trust me.

He was sitting at the counter that separates the kitchen from the family room and was watching me do it my way. I’m sure he was itching to make a snotty ass comment for the 568th time, but this time I felt it coming, I felt the vibe of the bossy pants captain rearing its head to spew some crap I did.not.want.to.hear. I am not a very good delegator but I am a GREAT micromanager.  I do everything myself. MY WAY. (More on that in another post. ) I looked over at him and said, “Don’t even start. I know what you were going to say.” He just laughed at me and said “You think you’re pretty good at reading my mind, don’t you?” I replied, “Well, after all this time, you have a limited repetoire and rotate the same few things on a fairly regular basis, so it’s not brain science here.” Him, “Well, you’re wrong this time”  I ignored him and went back to wasting a week’s worth of water. His computer sits on the counter and out of the corner of my eye I noticed he was scribbling something on a piece of scratch paper. “Why don’t we ever have any paper around here?” My thoughts were elsewhere as I was suddenly sad, remembering our darling cat, Bandit, who would drink from a dripping faucet and loved to watch me wash dishes. I do miss that girl.

He shoved the scrap of paper toward me. “What’s that? Your Home Depot list?” Him, “Just read it.” In case you can’t read it, it says, Do you want an early Xmas and Bday present? My birthday’s in May, so for a second I didn’t get it and then I whispered, “Do you really mean it?” Him, “Yes, it’s about time you had a very special present. Plus, you are never gonna give up bugging me about it, so yes, go ahead and get yourself that purse you’ve been wanting.”

I kept the document for legal reasons just in case he changed his mind and I could sue him for breach of promise. That’s the lawyer’s daughter talking.

I’m not alone in my shallow desire for an outrageously expensive accessory, and I’m not just talking Desperate Housewives. Zillions of females are obsessed with Chanel and I proudly share that compulsive preoccupation. I feel that owning a Chanel is a rite of passage, a declaration of womanhood. I’ve arrived. This might not mean a lot to a lot of my sisters, but to those who can relate, you know how I feel. When I first started my period, I was twelve, and my mom took me out to lunch and a bit of shopping to celebrate this next important step in a young woman’s life. This is another one of those milestones to me. It’s not that my life has been entirely without adversity, but I do like to look on the bright side and expect the best to happen more often than the worst. I am a firm believer in projecting a positive attitude.

And I positively had to have that handbag.

I’m also not very subtle, so my hints to the captain were more like overt hammer-like smacks on the head. I’d email him pix of Chanel handbags, and once dragged him to South Coast Plaza to visit the Chanel store so he could get a better sense of what the attraction is. He appreciates quality and after looking at one closely he had to agree that it was extremely well made. I made several Supreme Court-worthy arguments regarding the many different ways his marital happiness was intricately entwined with my having a Chanel, and conversely, how unhappy his life could be if I never got one.

But he really took me by surprise. I have to say I got a bit teary-eyed at his loving generosity. He never ceases to amaze me.

I love the anticipation of wanting something, but enough was enough. It was time to make my dream happen. It was love at first sight. My first Chanel. Now I am a woman. Somebody’s gonna get REALLY thanked when he gets home. Oh yeah. In a very special way. Ya know what I’m sayin’? May I introduce the Grand Shopper Tote? Totes gorg, huh?

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Winner, winner, winner! Liebster Award

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One of my new besties, a very lovely lady who writes Tonettejoycefoodfriendsfamily, nominated me for the prestigious Liebster Award. This is a wonderful and unexpected honor, albeit a teensy bit sad, because it’s meant to draw attention to deserving blogs (the happy part) who have less than 200 readers (the sad face part). However, I will carry on with a smile as the glass half full kinda gal I am, and proceed with the rules.

Rules
I need to nominate 11 other under-appreciated blogs with less than 200 followers. Hey guys, I appreciate you! Please visit them and give them some love because they are very interesting to read and are authored by brilliant and creative writers. Some have a bit more than 200 but I really enjoy them so much I wanted to help others make the discovery, and I think I actually have chosen 12, but whatever, I never like to follow rules.  And since most of the time I believe the world revolves around me (well, it does around MY house!) and it’s all about me, I can mess with the rules just a bit. Next comes 11 juicy tidbits about myself, then answer 11 questions sent to me, and create 11 questions for my chosen group.

Eleven random facts about ME you really want to know!

1. My grandfather was a rabbi

2. I was in the movie “Stuntman”

3. I fell down a manhole when I was three-years-0ld

4. I once interviewed Bob Hope

5. I know someone who knows someone who went to the Skyfall premiere

6. I love animals more than 90% of all the humans on Earth

7. I’m from the midwest

8. I could probably have a big win on Jeopardy-my head is full of useless information

9. I’ve taught school

10. My husband says I use a shovel like a man (he meant it as a compliment; I was not amused)

11. I haven’t eaten meat since I was 16-years-old

I nominate:

The Fur Files 

Snipewife 

Beach Treasures and Treasure Beaches 

Michelle at Play

Life on Wry

Red Dirt Kelly

Jewels for All

Better Half Weddings

Seashells by Millhill

Misifusa’s Blog

Midlife Crisis Crossover

Elyses’s Life as I Know It

These are the questions that I had to answer:

Where is the farthest you have even been from where you were born? Not sure which is further from Detroit; Germany or Greece, but I’ve been to both

Do you live now where your family lived? My mom and dad and I moved from the mid west to San Diego, and my brother lives in on the west coast but not nearby; don’t keep in touch very much with the rest of the family

Do you like to live in the city or the country? I like where I live now, near the beach with a bit of hills, and the city about 30 minutes away. I want a little bit of everything!

Do you prefer to visit the city or the country? Definitely the country– to go hiking, camping, skiing. The city is only good for shopping

In what ways do you consider yourself the most creative?(Name as many ways as you’d like.)

I think I’m a pretty creative gluer of seashells and I try to put words together like I arrange my shells and rocks and beach glass

What do you see yourself doing in 5 years? I would like to build my copy editing/proofing business and maybe have the two books I’m currently working on done and published as well as the reality show I want to pitch to ANYONE and you’ll be seeing me on all the talk shows looking very fashionista

What would you like to try that you have not done before? Ski without being petrified of going too fast and falling.

Is there any place in particular that you have never seen that you would like to visit? France

What would you change about the world if you had one quick wish? No animal or child abuse

Rank these(1,2,3,4):books, music, sports, movies You did it for me, I would keep them arranged exactly the same!

What are your 3 favorite holidays? (Whatever you celebrate) My son’s birthday, Christmas, Hannukah, wedding anniversary (I chose 4)

Here are my questions for you: 

1. How old were you when you first learned to read?

2. Name two of your favorite books.

3. What’s your favorite holiday dessert?

4. What is a Merchant Marine?

5. Who is your role model?

6. Who is your favorite movie star?

7. Do you make new year’s resolutions?

8. What’s cluttering up your life?

9. Do you drive a car or a truck?

10. Do you know how to change the battery in a smoke alarm?

11. What is your best home remedy for a sore throat?

The Mission, Part Two: I swear I am NOT bribing my husband to buy me a Chanel handbag, honest.

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I dragged my tired, feverish, achy body out of bed to do the laundry and fulfill all my wifely duties. I filled the tub with water, brought in a few rocks from the yard…too much? Well, I did cart the heavy basket of wet clothes outside to hang up. When we’re having weather like this, it’d be a shame not to use Mother Nature’s power to dry and sanitize clothes! Don’t you think polka sheets are tres cool?

I’m being the best wife ever and not complaining, (well, not too much) about watching the World Series.  I’m surprised I even know who’s playing.

“More coffee, honey?” “How about your dressing gown, shall I bring it?” “Let me just slide your slippers on your feet.” Again, too much, huh? Well, I’ve been on the sofa watching Father Knows Best and Leave it to Beaver   for the part of the day that I wasn’t baking and cleaning–on my knees, scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush, and, OK, OK, I know when to stop.

Who Am I?

Sometimes I feel like I’m part I Love Lucy, part That Girl “Oh, Donald!” part Erica Kane from All My Children, and part Blair Waldorf minus the Upper East Side penthouse, private school education, and money.  Oh, and part Jess from New Girl.

Hmmm. If those are my female role models, I can see why people my son sometimes accuse(s) me of living in a fantasy world. OK, at least I don’t identify with Honey Boo Boo Child! In my defense, I was at one time an aspiring dramatic actor. It’s a part of me, once an actress, always an actress, with the same tools of the trade. I say that I’m a famous undiscovered actress, and I’m hopeful that it’s not too late for me. But since I never audition for anything and don’t have current pix or even an agent,  that’s probably not going to happen; I do realize that. I am not totally delusional. A certain percentage of delusional is all I’ll admit to. Math is not my strong suit.

A Halloween Party!

This is the first Halloween the captain has been home in two years. One of his academy buddies is hosting a Halloween party and we’ve been toying with the idea of dressing up, which we never do. Our choices include Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein, Captain and Tenille, the Skipper and MaryAnn, or Ginger and Fred Astaire ‘cos we love to swing dance. Right now we’re leaning toward the Frankenstein/Bride theme. I’ll take pix when we’ve made a decision.

My Former Life

I was cast as a streetwalker in a Marty Feldman film that was shot in San Diego a looonnnggg time ago; that was a good look for me, too. In fact, I was so convincing that I got propositioned for real! Good times. Hmmm. I was also cast as a Costa Rican hooker for another film, a made-for-TV movie with Jack Scalia. I had lines that time; “Te gusta, señor?” That translates to “You like, mister?” More good times. In case you were wondering, it was my curly brown locks that caused the casting agents to choose me. Def not in my personal bio. Definitely not.

Although, who knows what one’s price might be….a large Chanel might very well be my tipping point. Only kidding! Gotta hop to it and make the captain his lunch. I might as well stay in character…

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Chicks on Tugs – Part One

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Every so often, a WOMAN, a FEMALE —  will be part of the crew on my tugboat man’s assignments.

tugboat annieWhile I’m full of admiration for a sistuh who enters what has typically been a male-dominated field, I – kind of – have a bit of a hate on her,  if I can be completely honest.

I’m a woman, right?  I obviously feel a tribal kinship BUT on one basic — uh, primitive and  primal level, I don’t trust women.

I’ve seen some of them in action, targeting a man THEY KNOW is in a relationship.

Yup, I’ve even sat by and watched a couple of ‘em put their lame ass moves on my very own tugboat man. Sometimes he was too naive to pick up on the vibes — “Oh, they just wanted to be friends..” RIIIGHHHT–that kind of stuff, but I knew what was going on.

Sometimes they were bolder, drunker, stupider, touching his huge biceps and gettin’ all giggly while I was in the same room, geez, y’all don’t wanna get a Princess pissed off, ya know what I’m sayin’? I just observed, simmering, and never had to unleash that inner beeyotch ‘cos my hubs handled it appropriately. And was rewarded…positive reinforcement…ahem.

We all have stories of women who go after someone’s man; is that really necessary?

Aren’t there enough single guys around? Or does one who’s taken just look better, are you a proponent of the “grass is always greener” philosophy?

Honey_Boo_Boo_eyes_on_you_animated_gifWhatev… Although I have no reason at all to question this one’s motives, I got my eyes on you, girlfriend!

(BTW, I totes trust my husband –I have no reason NOT to, but Gmail’s Mark as Unread is a good thing, am I right, girls? Trust but verify is my motto.)

I asked my captain where she sleeps; does she have her own room, her own bathroom?

He said no — on this particular vessel, she’ll share a room with someone — but not him, we got that clarified IMMEDIATELY.

On a smaller tugboat, there are more crew members than there are private rooms.

How is this obvious predicament solved? Well, they don’t share a bed, which is what I asked.

Since they work in shifts, they sleep and eat in shifts, too, so whomever is NOT working will eat and sleep while their roommate is working.

Not my hub's tug, just a pic.

–Not my hub’s tug, just a pic.

They each have their own bunk, but they share the room.

Hubs explained that it’s not “hot bunking” or “hot racking” which is when you sleep in shifts sharing one bed–that sounds disgusting to a hygiene junkie like me.

I don’t know how often they change their linens, but I can tell you that I would NOT want to sleep on anyone’s dirty sheets. Yuck. No way. Not me. ICK. Double ICK.

Off topic, sorta...While I was writing this post, Huell Howser’s on PBS doing a story in San Diego about the Sea Shadow, an experimental stealth ship built in 1984 by Lockheed for the United States Navy to determine how a low radar profile might be achieved and to test high stability hull configurations which have been used in oceanographic ships. According to Wiki, in 2006, the U.S Navy began to try to sell the Sea Shadow to the highest bidder; after the initial offering met with a lack of interest, it was listed for dismantling sale on gsaauctions.gov. The U.S. Government requires that the buyer cannot sail the ship and is required to scrap it. The ship was finally sold recently. That’s pretty interesting. It’s too bad they couldn’t even take it out for a sunset cocktail cruise!

From geekosystem.com