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Reader discretion warning

Warning: This post contains graphic images and text that may be disturbing to sensitive readers.

(Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

I don’t usually talk about politics in this blog, but I’m concerned about the Republican Party. They’ve had four years to get their act together and this is what they’ve come up with:

How are these guys the best the party can offer?

I can’t address all the craziness these folks have perpetrated over the past few months. Here are a few of the tastiest tidbits.

Mitt Romney

During an economic policy address at Ford Field in Detroit, he mentioned that his wife “drives a couple of Cadillacs.” Later, he explained that they were parked at their different houses. You know, for convenience. Oh. OK. Of course. He must not have learned anything from poor John McCain in 2008.

Romney is like the uptight, nerdy dad trying desperately to “get real” with the cool teenage son. Think Phil Dunphy.

Rick Santorum

At a speech at an Americans for Prosperity forum in Michigan, he derided Obama as a “snob” for suggesting that Americans should go to college. Hmmm … I guess he knows a thing or two about college. He has three degrees: a B.A., M.B.A. and J.D. I suppose he was indoctrinated by those “liberal college professors.” Quelle horreur!

And, by the way, look at the priority other countries place on higher education. The United States is slipping further behind. Do we really want to be the Patrick Star of the globe?

With his sweater vest, he reminds me of the teenaged son’s irritating, know-it-all best friend: Eddie Haskell.

Newt Gingrich

How is he a viable candidate? Let’s give credit to the flux capacitor that transported us back to the 1990s. It was a more innocent time. He was able to squall freely about Bill Clinton’s sexcapades while carrying on a hot and heavy affair with Whitehall Barbie. And he’s trying to represent a party that espouses family values such as preserving the sanctity of marriage. OK. Oh, and he wants to colonize the moon.

He’s like the drunk uncle who passes out on the couch during the family meal. Or like an older Arthur.

Ron Paul

It is amazing that he is running as a Republican in 2012, considering his Libertarianesque leaning (that is actually more like the Republican Party of old). I guess he thinks the Republicans are his best chance (according to him, “parties are pretty irrelevant”). He’s clearly not considered a contender. The debates were tough to watch. Even though the man was speaking some sense, his opponents looked at him patronizingly.

In the family dynamic, Paul is the senile grandpa allowed at the dinner table until he pinches the daughter-in-law’s backside when she goes for more rolls. Then it’s back to the nursing home for Old Man Simpson.

So this is what we’ve got:

Lest you think I’m a “liberal college professor” or part of the “left-wing media,” I’m not giving Democrats a pass. They’ve just (wisely) kept their collective mouths shut and let the crazies duke it out.

In the interest of full disclosure, I do have to unveil a skeleton in my closet. (Remember, I warned you about graphic images.) Here it is in all its tattered, bony glory:

I was Newt’s press intern during the Jim Wright scandal. So glad the days of “mindless cannibalism” are over. Oh … wait.

(Notice my hand is in my OWN pocket.)

An eggs-ellent recipe

As you know, I like to take on food challenges. When I saw a Libbie Summers recipe for Scotch quail eggs, it was on.

One problem, though: Where does one find quail eggs in Savannah? I tried numerous grocery stores and produce places to no avail.

Then I Googled “buy quail eggs in Savannah” and found an address in a strange part of town. I let a number of people know where I was going, just in case I didn’t come back.

"G.Q.F." stands for "Georgia Quail Farm.

I was shocked to discover that Georgia Quail Farm Manufacturing Co. is an international supplier for game bird and poultry equipment. Who knew?

Anyway, $15 later, I headed out with these:

And thus began my Scotch quail eggs adventure.

Almost too pretty to eat

Place eggs in saucepan with salt and vinegar and bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer for three minutes.

After the eggs soak in ice water for 10 minutes, then you have to peel them. This sucks. (The inner shell is a pretty blue, though.)

After the eggs dry on a paper towel, they are ready for the coating process.

First, a light coating of flour

Then wrap a sausage disk around the egg.

Dip the egg in a mixture of beaten chicken eggs and water, then roll in bread crumbs. Put finished eggs in refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.

Break out the Fry Daddy. Let the eggs take a bath until golden brown.

Mmmm ... golden goodness!

Royce samples the finished product.

Dip in tarragon mustard sauce and enjoy!

Dominic dissected the Scotch egg and swiped the egg.

Verdict: Totally worth the effort!

Freaks like me

About 400 people have linked, emailed, tweeted or otherwise made me aware of this cartoon:

I love the cartoon, and I love that people thought (think) of me when they saw (see) it.

(That’s indeed how I feel on a regular basis.)

While most of my friends and family know me as the grammar guru, the Internet thinks I’m a different kind of freak. Just look at the search terms people used that led them to my blog.

Finding me via “parasites” and other such terms makes sense because of my “Procrastination by parasite” post.

And “rednecks” also makes sense because of my frequent posts about the “Redneck Games.”

“Butterfly McQueen” and “antithesis” led searchers to posts about rhetorical devices.

I can even explain “std in the mouth” because I admitted in the procrastination post that my leap into the information vortex includes viewing images of “STD outbreaks” and “meth mouth.”

The last term is inexplicable on many levels: Who uses “inhumans wallpaper” as a search term? Why did the search engine pick me? What did searchers really want?

Not someone who likes to talk about grammar, for sure.

Aging gracelessly

One of the many great things about my job is that I’m sometimes off on Fridays.

“Sometimes” doesn’t happen very often though. In fact, the last time was October 2010, I think.

When I am off, I go to the YMCA for the line-dancing class.

(Yes, I like line dancing and country music.)

Eleanor, the cranky cottonhead, was there, as were Martha and Jan. They were thrilled to have fresh blood.

They were impressed with my mad dance skilz. I guess it becomes difficult to successfully complete a grapevine once you hit 70.

And then they informed me that I really needed to see “Menopause The Musical” at the Lucas Theatre.

How old do I look?

Subtract a few dozen people and that's the class.

Don’t answer that.

Combine this experience with my last post and you’ll see a trend. There’s also the fact that Eddie and I had an overnight sitter last night, but were still in bed by 10:30.

What is happening to my life?!?

Dispatches from Planet Earth

This has been an eye-opening week.

I feel old. Scratch that. I feel like I’ve landed on another planet.

Why?

Kids today.

(This is where I shake my fist menacingly and yell, “Get off my lawn!”)

  • A student approached me after class one day and asked me, in all seriousness, if I would change the time of a required class next quarter because she doesn’t “do 8 a.m.” classes. Because she is a very sweet student, I nicely replied that I couldn’t help her with that, but I was sure she would be able to rise to the occasion. And I reminded her that college (usually) leads to a job where she would be required to perform on schedule.
  • A student has missed a number of classes because he “slept through” the alarm repeatedly. The class meets at 11 a.m.
  • A student who informed me he needed an A in the class stood me up for the meeting where we were supposed to discuss his progress toward that goal.

These students are all interesting, talented people who are paying to go to college. Yet I seem to care more about their education than they do. So I don’t understand what is going on here.

Back in my day …

Wait a minute.

I seem to recall sleeping through a 9 a.m. history class. And I may have tried to get out of that class because it met at 9 a.m.

I still don’t have an explanation for or experience with the other two scenarios.

At least I don’t have helicopter parents making my life miserable. One such person called my husband to request that he wake up her son to go to the gym.

Now THAT’S truly alien behavior!

Cracker Barrel is to me is like catnip is to our cat Reggie (who seems to have left us for a neighbor). I cannot get enough of the Sunday homestyle chicken with a side of dumplings. Before entering the Starch Consumption Plaza, though, guests have to navigate the maze of rooster quilts, Oak Ridge Boys CDs and ceramic birdhouses. I can’t ever get past the “Good Old Days” food section. (Cracker Barrel calls this the “assortment of nostalgic and classic products that evoke memories of the way things used to be.”)

While I have been known to plunk down the debit card for chocolate mints and Jordan almonds, I usually pay more attention to the packaging of other consumables. I want to help the people who create these labels.

Shouldn't "old-fashioned" be the adjective here?

Besides the fact that I hate the ampersand, "tips" doesn't sound like anything tasty.

The soda isn't possessing anything. Lose the apostrophe!

Again, no apostrophe needed as there is no possession in place.

Cracker Barrel isn’t the only restaurant with advertising issues, though.

I don't want to jump into these items. I'm not sure I even want to eat anything that is "twisted."

Am I the only one who pays attention to things like this? Clearly not. Here’s something from my friend Shane Marshall Brown.

What the HECK is going on with the "Tatamagouche" and "Hurricane Harbor" entries?

 

SIGH.

Reporting on the resolutions

So … it is now Jan. 19, well past the time when many people abandon their new year’s resolutions. It seemed like a good time to check in with mine.

  • try noodling. I still haven’t found a guide.
  • wear skirts more often.So far, I’m sporting a skirt once a week. That’s a huge increase from about twice in all of last year.
  • go to Lacoste again (or, at the very least, drink more French wine). Check “yes” on the second part.
  • speak more Spanish at home and keep practicing French. Not so much, unless cursing counts.
  • acquire more chickens. I’ll start looking for chicks in March.
  • clean out my pantry. I got rid of a couple of items. OK, so they were expired. It’s a start.
  • stop letting my son’s superhero noises bother me. That’s an uphill battle, but I’m working on it.
  • see Adam Ant in concert.I bought tickets for the Feb. 11 show. Then he had to push the tour back six months. (He’s not in rehab again.) (OK, that’s what his people say.)
  • see Van Halen reunited with David Lee Roth in concert. They will be in the Southeast in April.
  • visit the Brannens in Abu Dhabi. Hmmm … March or June.
  • go camping at least once. Too cold right now.
  • see my friend Tina’s new place and finally talk her into visiting us. Hasn’t happened.
  • stop pretending I like to listen to NPR in my car. I outed myself during a class yesterday. Liberation!
  • audition for a play or musical. I hear there are auditions for “Rent” in March.
  • actually go out for drinks/dinner with my friends Matt, Pam, Kathy, Lee, etc., instead of just talking about it. Hasn’t happened yet.
  • either part ways with my padding or to stop talking about it. I’ve been to the gym twice a week since Jan. 1 AND I made money because of it, thanks to GymPact.
  • make homemade pasta more often. I made shrimp and mushroom ravioli last week.
  • take a cooking class to improve my knife skills. Signed up for a class next month.
  • go to more of the interesting festivals I like so much (such as the Redneck Games). The Redneck Expo and Golf Cart Rally will be held April 6-7 in Bainbridge. That sounds like a winner!
  • write more, read more, talk less. I’ve written columns for the local paper, so that’s good. (What’s bad: I let more than two weeks pass between posts on this blog.) I’ve mostly caught up on my magazine reading. And I caught myself being quiet and not chiming into a conversation the other day. Progress!

So there you have it. I’ve also added one more: Learn to do the Running Man and Moonwalk.

How are you doing with yours?

Hello, 2012!

I don’t usually make resolutions for the new year. (Why wait until Jan. 1 if you want to change something?) The closest I get is making non-resolutions.

I’m feeling optimistic and inspired, though. And so I resolve to:

  • try noodling. (Anyone know a good guide?)
  • wear skirts more often. (I tend to be a pants kind of gal.)
  • go to Lacoste again (or, at the very least, drink more French wine).
  • speak more Spanish at home and keep practicing French.
  • acquire more chickens (much to Eddie’s dismay).
  • clean out my pantry. (I don’t really think this will happen, but it is nice to have a goal.)
  • stop letting my son’s superhero noises bother me. (Yeah, that won’t happen either.)
  • see Adam Ant in concert. (He’s on tour!)
  • throw my panties on the stage at that concert. (I’m kidding. Just making sure you’re paying attention.)
  • see Van Halen reunited with David Lee Roth in concert.
  • visit the Brannens in Abu Dhabi.
  • go camping at least once.
  • see my friend Tina’s new place and finally talk her into visiting us.
  • stop pretending I like to listen to NPR in my car. (Confession: It’s usually ’80s and country.)
  • audition for a play or musical.
  • actually go out for drinks/dinner with my friends Matt, Pam, Kathy, Lee, etc., instead of just talking about it.
  • either part ways with my padding or to stop talking about it.
  • make homemade pasta more often. (Not sure this goes with the one above.)
  • take a cooking class to improve my knife skills.
  • go to more of the interesting festivals I like so much (such as the Redneck Games).
  • write more, read more, talk less.

Of course, there are the resolutions I share with almost everyone else: Improve eating habits, exercise more, spend more time with family, save money, etc.

Now I’m ready for the new year. How about you?

Holiday bleatings

December is my favorite month of the year because it is my birthday month, and because it features Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa – a holidaypalooza! No one gets any work done all month, people eat their body weights in cookies and candy, and parents have the chance to threaten their young children with the phrase, “Santa sees what you are doing right now.”

Christmas Eve is my favorite holiday because of the anticipation. Christmas Day has always felt like a let-down because the wait is over. It’s 364 days for the next build-up. But maybe that’s just me.

So, Christmas Eve = good; Christmas Day = kind of bad.

Here are other pairs:

Good: Bringing home and decorating a real Christmas tree.
Bad: Real Christmas tree needles that clog the ancient vacuum cleaner.

Good: Realizing a new Dyson vacuum cleaner with Root Cyclone technology might make a great Christmas gift.
Bad: Um … asking for a vacuum cleaner for Christmas.

Good: The boys are old enough to help decorate the tree.
Bad: They haven’t figured out the art of spacing.

Good: More quality time with the kids.
Bad: More time with the kids. (You know it is too much togetherness when you hear your son say, “Gideon punched me,” and your husband responds, “Good.”)

Good: Selecting the perfect presents for friends and family.
Bad: Wrapping all those presents and the bills that follow the purchase.

Good: Seeing a person’s reaction when she loves her gift. (Hi, Trish!)
Bad: Seeing the reaction when he doesn’t. (Hello, Ed.)

Good: Taking the kids to see Santa.
Bad: Knowing that the 5-year-old is not getting the computer he requested (!).

Good: Going to your first Hanukkah party.
Bad: Fleeing the Hanukkah party because your son has a meltdown because he doesn’t like the way his shirt collar feels on his neck.

Good: Unseasonably warm weather when the central heat has been acting strangely.
Bad: The kids deciding it’s OK to take off their clothes outside to better enjoy aforementioned warm weather.

Good: Having the time and inclination to make Christmas cookies.
Bad: The extra 10-pound reminder of why you shouldn’t.

Good: Deciding (well, hoping) that friends and family will forgive you for not sending holiday cards because you’ve been out of the country for three months and didn’t get your act together.
Bad: Feeling like a schmuck each time you go to the mailbox and see greetings from others.

Good: Singing Christmas carols as loudly as possible in a closed car.
Extra Good: Torturing your kids with your holiday singing after they’ve been torturing you all day with superhero noises.
Bad: There’s nothing bad about that … for you!

Good: Stop-motion Christmas specials such as “Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer” (although I’m partial to “The Year Without a Santa Claus” because of the Miser Brothers).
Bad: Stop-motion specials such as “Rudolph’s Shiny New Year.” (It’s like the Scrappy Doo of specials.)

Good: The whole holiday season, in my opinion.
Bad: It’s almost over. Sigh.

Happy holidays to all of you!

 

Sign here

Our journey through France, Switzerland and Germany taught me plenty. It was because I was open to all the signs, of course.

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