Showing posts with label D-friend Bek. Show all posts
Showing posts with label D-friend Bek. Show all posts

12.06.2009

What I did with my Saturday

Today, I'm throwing Beckie a party. So yesterday, I had to get the food ready for 30 guests. I wasn't really planning on 30 guests when I put the menu together, but suddenly, it seemed that people from school were interested in going, and then in-laws, step siblings, half sibs, and someone who might or might not have gone to high school with Beckie was on the guest list.

But I had already decided to make a special cake.

First, I used a LOT of this.


Oh, and this part was fun!


Cupcakes!!!!

This is called fondant. This was the first time I ever made fondant. It took me a while. If you ever need a sugar overload, I suggest that fondant is the way to go. I think there is about 2.5 lbs of sugar in this little dough ball.


Putting it all together?

This is for Beckie and her little peanut.

I sure hope she likes it, because this took me 5 hours to make.

8.07.2009

Advice for 30 year olds

If I had one bit of advice for 30-year-old men, it would be this: step away from the bottle.

D-friend Bek is 40 years old. She's expecting. Gutsy move, yes. Foolish? Hardly. But there is one part of her situation that does make her condition more difficult. She has a husband who drinks. And when I say "drinks", I don't mean 6 beers on the weekend. I mean he takes time off work to work on their house and drinks 18 beers in a single day. She suspects he's an alcoholic. She doesn't know because he doesn't drink every day. They have had week-long spats that drug in in-laws and friends and destroyed relationships with many concerned. They have separated for two-weeks at a time over the drinking. She calls me up regularly to vent about his drinking. I don't have the heart to tell her that, yes, her man is a drunk, and if his drinking bugs her that much, her marriage may be doomed.

Now don't think I'm just a negative person. Because it isn't about dooming her relationship. I am speaking from what I have seen and experienced in my years growing up, growing older, and growing wiser. Or at least having the awareness of people and things around me to have seen patterns emerge.

I believe there is a point in your early 30s when you make a decision. Perhaps I should say you have an opportunity to make a decision. You can decide to be a grown up or you can decide to string along your youth beyond its natural lifespan. People who decide to grow up make changes in their lives. They slow down on the drinking. They start to save money for the future. They invest time and energy in their careers. If they haven't started families, they may begin now. They are concerned parents. They are making positive, meaningful, adult decisions in their day-to-day lives and considering the future. They rid themselves of the stupidity of youth, they analyze their experiences and relationships, they shed the party boy/girl image, and they quit doing things counter-productive to their goals.

Or they don't.

Men, in particular, seem to have trouble turning this corner. They get caught up in a "I work hard. I deserve to relax and let loose once in a while." All the time, never realizing that once in a while comes far more often then even they are willing to admit. Never taking into consideration that all that drinking, recreational drug use, hanging out in bars is playing with fire. I have seen this attitude destroy more marriages than I care to count. In fact, there was a time in my life when I could count on one hand the men I knew who weren't alcoholics or drug addicts or daily, dedicated users of marijuana. I will be brutally honest when I say that my marriage ended long before my divorce and long before the really difficult part of making the decision to leave. My marriage ended the day I realized that my husband would never, ever, ever stop smoking pot every single day of his life. Pot was his hobby. I couldn't go anywhere with him. I couldn't take him, for instance, to a work function, because he would show up reeking of pot. He had become an embarrassment to me. I nagged. I prodded. I begged. I withheld sex. Not me, not the promise of intimate relations, not his children, not his career, nor any relationship in his life could cause him to even slow down. He had made his choice. Pot was the most important thing in his life.

Now, if I had told him this he would have called me crazy. Of course his children were important. Of course I was important. But as he was fond of saying, "actions speak louder than words". He smoked pot in the car on the way to his daughter's wedding. In his tuxedo. A wedding in which he had to walk her down the aisle in front of 500 of her closest friends and new family. Helloooooo.

He smoked pot on the way to work. On lunch breaks. On the way home. While driving the car I paid for. He smoked pot in front of the tv every night. I don't even want to think about how much money that man spent on pot. If he had spent that much on golf clubs and green fees, or fixing up a dream car, or traveling, or Bear's tickets I might not have minded so much. But to watch your husband sit in the dark in his den with nothing but a doobie and a bong day after day, week after week, year after year was more than I could take. One day it dawned on me I had married a dedicated loser. He wasn't going to change. And this was my life. Forever.

That was the day my marriage ended. Some little spark that had nearly been beat out flamed for just a minute. Some little voice whispered inside my head, "Oh, hell no." And then that flame grew stronger and that voice grew louder. I was done.

So I watch Bek struggling with that same set of circumstances. Just change the word "pot" in the paragraph above with "beer" and you've got her life. And yes, he does drink and drive. We all know how tragically that has ended in my own life. My oldest brother is serving 15 years for involuntary manslaughter. That's legalese for having killed someone while driving drunk. I watch Bek worry as her belly grows and her marriage disintegrates. I am afraid for her. She's 40. She's old enough and wise enough to know where this is going and she is struggling, not with concern for her husband, but concern for herself and her baby. She has my greatest sympathy. Because none of her nagging and even the prospect of fatherhood has given her husband the push he needs to start behaving like a grown up. He is fighting it tooth and nail. I think he is fighting it because he's addicted to alcohol. He hasn't gotten the picture yet. He's trying to fool himself with the "I don't drink everyday" mantra. " I can't be an alcoholic if I don't drink everyday."

Gentlemen, I don't know how to break it to you. But if you have had more than one argument in a year about your drinking, smoking, recreational drug use, it is interfering with the relationships in your life. If you defend yourself by any means possible, you are playing fast and loose with those relationships. If your significant other, parent, friends, and co-workers have told you its time to slow down or quit, do yourself a favor: LISTEN. You may want to be a lot of things in your life, but "a drunk" isn't one of them. Trust me. I've seen it all.

I think it's why I don't drink at home anymore. Beer will linger in my fridge for months. I never drink hard liquor unless I have friends over. Alcohol is just not a meaningful part of my life. I hope this makes me a grown up.

1.24.2009

Cooking for my adoring fans


If you are ever in Chicago, go to any grocery store and find these. This is not a suggestion, this is an order. For the low, low discount price of between 25 and 30 cents, you can get a little slice of heaven. These are El Milagro corn tortillas. They come in a paper packet. Sometimes they are still warm from the delivery truck. It doesn't get any fresher than that. Just pick up the package and take a deep breath. Breathe in that heavenly corn aroma. If you put them in your car, they fill up your car with that scent as well. If you walk out with less than 10 packages for the return trip home, you have incredible self control. El Milagro corn tortillas are--as they say--just one trick up D-master's sleeve.

I like cooking for Beckie. She raves on about my cooking. She brags to her husband about my cooking. Now maybe you'll say Beckie is such a fan because she's from Tennessee and I'm from Kentucky and we share similar tastes. And while it's good, Southern cooking tends to be pretty low-brow. Quite a bit of it is po' folk food. Soup beans, corn bread, and cheap cuts of meats. Seasoning depends heavily on pork fat, onions, ketchup, and salt. Now if I was going to cook Beckie a meal to remind her of home, I'd probably have cubed steak and onions, green beans cooked in a pool of bacon grease, cornbread baked in a cast iron skillet greased with more pork fat, real butter, and mashed potatoes. Wash it all down with a Coca-Cola.

And not that that isn't good eating, but I don't cook like that much anymore. My life is too sedentary. And anyway, it isn't the home cooking I do that Beckie likes the best. Beckie is a fan of the foods I picked up from friends and restaurants and when my interests led to experimenting in my own kitchen. One of the recipes I really like to make is a variation of one my ex taught me. He called them American tacos. Browned hamburger and onions, no sauce. A sweet tomato chili sauce laid down on fresh El Milagro corn tortillas, followed by meat, cheese, a mild or medium picante, lettuce, tomato, more onion, avocado, sour cream, and black olives. When I make them today, I skip the cheese, sour cream (for reasons obvious to those who know me), and black olives, and I make a taco sauce for the meat. What can I say? I'm a fan of cumin. I guess that makes them just regular tacos. I served them to Beckie and her son Payton once when they came over with cherries from her mama's tree and we spent an afternoon putting up some awesome cherry jam.

The Tennessee faction went wild over the tacos. They looked a bit like these.


While my favorite part is the El Milagro corn tortillas (BTW, this picture is just using Ortega shells not the heavenly El Milagro corn tortillas--there really is no comparison) , the thing Beckie liked so much was the fact that I put refried beans in the meat mixture. It's a trick I picked up in needing to freeze things for later use. I just dumped the leftover refried beans into the meat, stirred it up a bit and froze it for later use. Saves time, pans, and tastes great.

You never know when a little something is going to go over big with your guests. In any event, it's fun to cook for people who appreciate your effort. Beckie can eat at my house anytime. And I promise I won't skimp on the corn tortillas.


Oh, and if I'm really feeling sassy...much like I was today...you might just get this for dessert. h/t Pioneer Woman.

11.22.2008

Early Birthday and Doggie Play Dates

So I like to go to Red Lobster for my birthday. And since, of course, December birthday's suck, we have to go early, because you can't get near a Red Lobster in the month of December.

So we went and had lots of good food with doggie bags left over.

Bek stayed the night and Dixie and Jake had big fun playing. Nevada was not so thrilled about the whole sleep over deal. I do want to mention that Nevada has developed the mistaken impression that if she doesn't look at Dixie then either: A) Dixie doesn't exit, or B) Dixie can't see her.

In any event, it is funny to see her face the wall in the kitchen or stare at a chair to prevent her from actually looking at Dixie.