V-Day Redux

It seems I can’t get away from telling everyone how the dinner turned out.

I didn’t overcook the meat.  It wasn’t quite what I had been hoping for, but it turned out pretty darn good.

I ended up buying a new meat thermometer, leaving it in the meat and camping out in front of the oven for 20 minutes while it roasted. 

I think I may have put the thermometer in too far, because when I pulled the meat out the center was still too raw, and that’s saying a lot if you’ve seen some of the meat I’ve eaten.  So I put it in for a few more minutes.

I did, however manage to mess up everything else that was accompanying the meat.  I was roasting asparagus and left it in a bit too long and the rice wasn’t the best I’d ever made.

I was happy enough with everything in the end.  The real kicker is that Derek enjoyed the meal.  I’m not sure he was just being nice because I wasn’t that happy with it or if he did actually like it.

Whatever the case, I’d say it was a 80% success.  Which is pretty good for my first go at something.  There is another tenderloin sitting in my freezer, so sometime soon I will have another go at it.

Here’s to hoping it comes out a bit better next time.


Because six is such a great number

Kel tagged me with this one last week.

I am to go to the sixth folder of pictures and post the sixth picture in that folder.

This was Derek’s birthday celebration in 2004.  That lopsided German Chocolate cake was a labor of love his mother and I did together. From left to right is me, my two grandmother’s seated at the table, Derek, my grandfather walking to the living room, Derek’s sister and her then boyfriend (now husband) and Derek’s mother.

If this doesn’t work, I’m quitting.

So, I think Valentine’s Day may not be all it’s hyped up to be. 

It’s just another day to me. 

I don’t care about overpriced flowers or candy, or mushy cards expressing endless love. 

I do, however, care about spending time with my husband.

Wait, a husband?  I actually have one of those?  Somehow, I don’t view a man that I spend approximately three coherent hours with a week as a husband.

I am so happy that he is finally getting into something he will enjoy, and spending every moment he has working hard toward that finish line, but lately I feel like a crazy woman who spends her time talking to her dogs as she would her husband.

It’s hard.  It’s frustrating.  It’s lonely.  But, it’s necessary and it’ll all be worth it in the end.  I know this.  But sometimes a girl just needs to complain.

So tomorrow, between his hours of studying and when he leaves at 7 pm for clinicals all night long,  I will be making us a nice dinner.

That part of it is just ducky.  It’s the 16,000 pound elephant I have sitting on my shoulders in anticipation of cooking beef tenderloin that has me freaking out.  Something I’ve never attempted, and something I am positive I will fail at.

See, if there is one thing I do extremely well when cooking, it’s not being able to gauge when a piece of meat is properly cooked.  Also read as:  Always overcooking the meat. 

I’ve yet to learn to ignore the annoying, nagging glitch in my brain that tells me to keep on cooking that meat, it’s not even close yet.  

So, I am hoping for a miracle to happen tomorrow when I stick that little piece of heaven in an oven at almost 500 degrees.  Wish me luck!

Now I want some ice cream

It’s 54 degrees outside right now.

I know I told winter it was welcome to stay, but I was actually kidding.  I’d gladly put up with the mud for a limited time in order to have verdant landscapes once again.

This morning it was quite foggy outside.  Not just a slight decrease in visibility either, it was the type of day that you can’t see a traffic light until you are almost right beneath it.

I had a dream last night about fog.  Coincidental?

In my dream, a woman was walking through this place (third picture down) and I’ll just leave it there, because it got quite interesting after that and there’s no reason to delve any deeper than that.

It’s now 56 degrees outside.  I remember warm days like this in high school when kids would have the tops down on their convertibles and would be wearing shorts.  I wasn’t one of them.

Did you know that about 95% of people that end up at this site through searches have to do with Michigan weather.  I didn’t think I talked about it that much.

I stand corrected.

I’ll try to remedy that in the future.

Why is it called a pet peeve anyway?

Em got tagged with this one, and although she didn’t tag me, we’re pretending she did. 

It’s a bit of an annoying day, so what better post than to list ten things that bug me.

1.  I have to agree with her last one, which was mustard.  The stuff is simply wrong.  If it were up to me, there would never be any in my fridge.  I can’t even open a bottle without cringing.

2.  When someone uses the word ‘loose’ instead of ‘lose’.  It happens way too often for me not to notice it.

3.  Sticking with that theme, when I find grammatical or punctuational errors in novels and articles.  You’d think they got edited enough times to weed that out.

4.  Commercials.  Most of the time when I watch a show as it is aired, I start half an hour or so into it, just so I can fast forward through all the commercials.  Or I pause it for a while and do something else.  Oh DVR, I do love thee.

5.  When toilet paper is put on the dispenser the wrong way.  If it isn’t coming off in the front, I itch to change it.  When we had to get a new dispenser, we got one that it open ended on one side, so all you have to do is slide the rolls on and off.  I don’t think I can ever go back to the spring loaded ones.

6.  The time of year when everything turns to mud.  I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have dogs, but it gets rather annoying to have to wipe their paws off every time they come in the house.

7.  Leftover time on the microwave.  I don’t know why this bothers me so much, but every time I walk into the kitchen I glance at the microwave to make sure the time is there.  Derek knows this, and still refuses to ease my worries by simply pressing clear.

8.  Customer Service.  There is nothing I would rather do than try and try to fix something myself, all to alleviate the stress of calling a customer service representative.  Most of the time, navigating through all the recordings, staying on the phone for twenty minutes before even reaching a real person is enough for me.  Derek is usually the one to take care of these things.

9.  Flossing.  I am constantly being lectured at the dentist about this, but I really can’t stand it.

10.  When the dogs blow their coats.  Brushing them every single day and still having handfuls of hair come out when you pet them is pretty frustrating.  Not to mention the vacuuming.  I will forever bless my $80 vacuum and the fact that it has already lasted three of those seasons and is still working like a champ.  Who needs Dyson anyway?

I am just now realizing I should have talked about things that make me happy.  Note to winter:  I’ve decided that you can stay, as long as you keep the mud at bay and the hair at a minimum.

For your reading pleasure

My sister and I went to the library the other day to find a book for her to check out.

We never made it through the library doors, only to the used bookstore located just off the main lobby.  She found her book for a dollar and I found myself standing there for twenty minutes, holding a stack of books no less than two feet, wondering if I already owned any of them, and then purchasing said books.

The amount of books scattered throughout my house that have yet to be read is daunting.  Every single time I walk into the office, where books are teetering from being stacked so high, I try to think of a solution to my evolving problem.

The local library has used book sales three times a year.  I usually don’t attend these until the last day, when an entire paper bag of books is only five dollars!  I can’t remember the last time I walked out of there cradling no less than two bags, ripping at the seams.  Not to forget the aforementioned used book store, open year round.

I am positive I will catch up someday.  But my organizational soul screams out every time I see the way they aren’t in order.  Not only do I need more room to organize them, I need them organized in a way that every time I go to grab one to read, I won’t end up coming across one that I’ve already read and loved and read that one again.

I’ll admit, probably half of the collection consists of love stories, cheesy (read: not trashy) to the point of entertaining.  Maybe if Nora Roberts quit writing, I’d have a real opportunity to read some actual novels.

But, I digress.  The library is having one of their used book sales this weekend, and I plan not to attend until Sunday, the captivating “paper bag” day.  We’ll just have to see how well those plans hold. 

I’ll let you know the outcome, and in the meantime I hope to work on upgrading our office to accomodate the world of books that live there.