Putting Away the Groceries.

The Man Who Lives In My House:  Am I supposed to refrigerate the Nutella?

Smaller Hooligan.  No, It's supposed to be stored in my stomach.

Funnier than I am. A lot.

This writer Alice?  At a blog called Finslippy?  She often makes me snort my coffee out my nose, or my wine, depending on the time of day.  Go to this link if you want to snort.  And I now want to make a similar list for my parents, but all of you readers should know that when/if I do, I am copycatting.  Because it's very important to cite your sources, even if you haven't plagiarizes anything yet!  And I wont, I'm just ssaying I'm inspired, ok?  So go to this link, followers and lurkers! All 60+ of you.

http://www.finslippy.com/blog?currentPage=2

Overheard

I'm just going to put it out there that I am a MAJOR eavesdropper.  I have been known to rudely shush my dinner companions as I strain to catch the conversation that is happening at the next table.  Today I heard the ultimate, though, and I wasn't even trying.  I was digging for my keys when a tattoo'd and shaggy man walked, by, talking loudly into his cell phone, "Don't try to put that one on me."  He went on, "What I know is that you gave my baby away and never even told me."  With that he rounded the corner and left me wondering.

Excorism/Excercise

I don't know what excorism has to do with this post except that it is close to Halloween.  I went to this insane excercise class this morning.  Perhaps the instructor is the Devil in disguise as a very fit, cheerful  man.  I used to go quite regularly.  It's a half hour intensive thing involving mostly squats and sprints and pushups in rapid succession.  There are signs on the wall that say things like "It's supposed to hurt."  and "If it feels good, you're not doing it right."  Sounds diabolical to me.  I hadn't been for about five months.

My legs kept buckling as I was walking back to the car, afterwards.  The Man Who Live In My House texted me:  Wat U doin?
Me:  went to excercise class, cant walk, not sure I can drive
MWLIMH:  should I call you a cab?
Me:  i would prefer a litter with four strong young men  shirtless

I did make it home but laundry is out of the question as I can walk up stairs, but not down.

Pie is important

I like pie anytime, but particularly in the fall.  I have a new innovation for classic apple that I am sharing today:

One  recipe classic pie crust as follows (Joy of Cooking, my mother's 1961 edition) :

2 C flour
1 C cold butter, grated into the flour
3-5 T water, added  one T at a time, mixed a lot between additions.  Stop adding when you can press dough into a ball and it doesn't fall apart.

Sprinkle 1/3 cup flour on rolling surface,  roll dough to thickness of cardboard.  Fold in half, fold in quarters, unfold over pie pan.  Patch if necessary.  No big deal.  Repeat for top crust after you've made the filling:

Filling!

Slice 6-7 tart apples sliced and chopped into chunks or small bits-- if you like your pie mushy, chop finer, if you like it chunky, keep them big.  You'll figure it out.

Toss  apples with 1/2 cup brown sugar and...
2 T flour
1T powdered ginger*
2 t cinnamon
1/2 t nutmeg
1/4 t ground clove
zest of one orange*

Put coated slices into bottom crust, sprinkle a tablespoon or two of orange juice over, and top with second crust.

Cook at 425 for 15 minutes, reduce heat to 350, cook for 35 or 40 more minutes.  If your kids say the ginger is too spicy, top with vanilla ice cream and they will probably stop complaining.   Grown ups will love this.  All the spices can be varied according to taste, of course.

*This is the new innovation:  I stole the ginger/orange idea from my friend Sam, who makes better pie than I do.  I am getting over this, as I used to believe I was the queen of pie.  Sam uses ginger and orange in her strawberry rhubarb, so I assumed that she put it in all her pies, but when she tried mine she kindly acted all impressed.  I just applied her method to apple.  She deserves credit.  Thank you Sam.

I know I should be nicer to my mother.

I have mentioned before that my mother is frugal, only I probably didn't mince words.  I probably called her cheap, which was not very nice.  It is so much fun to make fun of my mother.  I feel terrible about it, but sometimes she brings it on herself.  Even my sister, Abbey, can't resist.  Last Monday night Mom was telling us about the bathroom she's had remodelled to make it accessible for my dad when he comes home from the skilled nursing facility:

My mother:  Well I sprung for a heated towel warmer, but I didn't do the heated floor tiles in the new bathroom.  Too expensive.
Abbey:  I wonder if a heated towel warmer would solve my moldy-smelling towel problem?  My towels smell moldy after two days because our bathroom is so small.
My mother:  Well I just buy really thin, cheap towels, and then they dry quickly.  People think they need those big fluffy towels, but the cheap kind is better.
Me:  Mom, that is so you.  Cheap towels, like the kind in Motel 6!  Everybody loves those!
Abbey: (quzzically):  Do you like ice milk, Mom?
Me (doubled over and snorting):  She likes powdered milk!
My father (chuckling in his wheelchair):  Stop making fun of your mother.
My mother (mildly huffy):  Well I do like thin towels better.
Me (pointing my iphone at her):  Mom, You're getting blogged.

Time out

My dad is unwell.  He's been in the hospital for two weeks, now he's in a rehab place....he's improving, but slowly.  I can't blog right now.  I'll be back, but I don't know when.

I think this is from about five years ago....