it's a whopper

I'm sick. My head is completely stuffed up. I am out of Kleenex and being forced to use toilet paper which means my nose is hurty.

I also can't taste anything which has made prep for the goose tomorrow super awesome. I made veggie stock that could be completely under seasoned. I have a roasted squash and sweet potato soup that may have too much smoked paprika but I wouldn't know because I can't taste anything. I braised green cabbage which probably made my apartment stinky, but I can't tell because I can't smell anything. I also washed about 8000 spoons because I was so concerned about contaminating any of the food with my illness. The only food I've actually consumed today is chicken noodle soup. From a can. Which tasted just fine because I couldn't $%#!& taste anything.

To say this is a bummer is an understatement.

Still to do tonight:

roast beets

contemplate applesauce

fyi

I am in Vermont. Tonight I went to One Federal which is like Butch's only with what appears to be a way more interesting menu. And better beer on tap. Which is weird because my hometown is a lot smaller than Holland. And I ran into people which I kind of thought would happen, but didn't expect to be people I cared about. Come to find out they were and I did.

After much soul searching I have decided Obama's tax deal is unforgivable. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about that.

True Grit was good, but not great.

Between the Star Wars and the Independence Day and the Back to the Future marathons, Spike TV has proven itself worthy.

Sometimes you do get to choose your family. My parents chose some amazing "aunts" and "uncles" and "cousins" for me years ago when they relocated to VT. I am forever blessed.

I miss Founders.

The Shedd beat Switchback and Long Trail as the most favorite Vermont beer.

I have $25 to spend at Pure Pop tomorrow thanks to my parents. Best.present.ever.

erin loses it

My lifestyle is clearly not sustainable.

Let me preface this by reassuring everyone that everything is now fine.

At 9:45 last night I stormed out of the house and went for a freezing cold winter walk (aside: let me once again thank Grandpa Berghoef for being mayor when snowmelt was introduced to our fine town. It is entirely possible to go for an angry walk a mere block from our apartment thanks to the beauty of snowmelt. Heated sidewalks, people. It is not a luxury). At the time I believed myself to be completely justified in storming out of the house because I had asked for some newspaper to be picked up for boxes-packing purposes and that had not been done. It was thought the number of plastic shopping bags (yeah, yeah we suck) we had lurking about would be sufficient. It may have been sufficient, but I had never packed with plastic grocery bags before and, contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually ship things across the country that often. In the process of attempting to use said substitute packing material, I convinced myself that this was actually a sexism issue. “Not only do I not have the proper materials to pack this box because someone obviously doesn’t care about me or my needs (because if they did I’d have mofo newspaper instead of these stupid useless plastic bags), I have not idea HOW to pack this box and yet, I’m expected to just magically figure out how to pack this box all by myself because I am a woman and women know how to do these things and you obviously feel this way else you’d be over here helping me figure out how to use these worthless fucking plastic bags I’m being forced to use (because you don’t care about me or my needs) instead of screwing around on the internet!”

Crazy Erin took over.

In my defense, I’d been averaging about 5ish hours of sleep a night for a few nights and had spent the previous night sleeping on the futon due to a miscommunication/snoring problem the previous night.

But honestly? Not a good excuse. Crazy irrational sleep deprived hand made Christmas Erin took over. And screamed. And stormed out of the house.

By the time I got home, the car was gone. I decided the best course of action was to ignore the pile of unpacked presents in the middle of the dining room and make some spiced nuts instead. A few minutes later, newspaper and a six pack of beer arrived. Apologies were made all around. And we packed the boxes.

Together.

one week from today i will be in the land of milk and honey

In the last 24 hours I have come up with the greatest hand made Christmas present for a specific person (I made my coworker cry when I told her what I was planning. It’s that good), I made and successfully canned my very first batch of strawberry jam, and I received the Amy Grant Christmas Album on vinyl as the big reveal gift from my Secret Santa who turned out to be none other than Kari. She kind of gave herself away with the first gift of a Diet Coke. Few people at work know my love of Diet Coke. She does.

It’s been a helluva day.

Meanwhile, my house looks like drunken, cracked out Christmas elves have been furiously at work. The ironing board has taken up permanent residence in the living room. There bits of red and green ribbon strewn about and red and green sharpies are underfoot. There is embroidery floss and yarn and piles of fabric everywhere. I keep forgetting then remembering things to do (must not forget gingerbread cake for Molly to be ready Monday-ACK! Need bottle of wine for work Secret Santa-DANG IT! WINDMILL COOKIES NEED TO BE MADE!) and am constantly making lists and losing them. I keep making trips to stores because I keep coming up with things I need that I don’t realize I need until I’m about to start a project.

I say it every year: next year I will start earlier.

Though in my defense, when inspiration strikes and it’s only a week out you just gotta get her done. One cannot force the perfect hand made gift. The perfect hand made gift happens.

Tonight: work, make another list I will inevitably lose, go home and try to attach a headboard to the bed, pack up the boxes to be shipped to VT, and keep working on what shall henceforth be referred to as the Perfect Gift.

who knew lesley gore was a lesbian?!?

Things that have recently come up in conversations* include:

Capitalism and the downfall of the American economy
Cars-dumbest idea ever
The politics of snow removal
Who needs fancy cookies when chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies taste so good?
The ethics of not disclosing the inclusion of chicken stock in what could otherwise be considered a vegetarian soup
Obama and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad tax deal
The moral implications of the episode of 7th Heaven entitled “Last call for Aunt Julie”
Organic vs Local = either way we win!
The uselessness of the internet
Belts: more than a fashion accessory
Where to find anchovy stuffed olives in Holland

*conversations may refer to conversations in my head.
not with other people. just so we’re all clear how crazy I am.

lake effect snow event in progress

You know when you’re kneading bread and your arms ache and you start questioning the sanity of bothering to make home made bread and then you can feel the dough shift to that perfect elastic and sweaty texture and you can smell that amazing yeasty smell and you know you’re about to make a really special loaf of bread?

That happened to me. Yesterday.

I’m sick of paying for substandard bread at the grocery store. I’m also sick of paying $4.50 a loaf from Pereddies. And, huge surprise, I find I really love the process of making bread from proofing the yeast to kneading to finding the perfect place for it to rise to baking. This spring I briefly got into the whole healthy-bread-in-15-minutes-a-day thing and though I enjoyed the idea of making my own bread it just didn’t taste very good nor was I crazy about the texture. The loaves I’ve been making are good. They taste like, well, bread. Good crumb and good crust and good flavor. Next up I’d like to find a decent whole wheat sandwich bread because not having to buy ick bread from Meijer ever again would be sublime.

I also made blueberry muffins compliments of the Smitten Kitchen. And shepherd’s pie. And Friday night we had cassoulet. It was a weekend of delicious eating.

Another hand made Christmas gift was finished yesterday! And by “finished” I mean I still need to figure out how I’m going to FINISH it, but the main work is done. I have a couple more big-ish projects to finish that I’d like to do this weekend so I can start shipping things to Vermont next week.

Because we’re going to be in Vermont in a little over 2 weeks.

!!!!!

That makes me happier than baking home made bread on a Sunday.

it's 65 degrees here. in november. that just ain't right.

I have curtains. On 2 windows. It’s a start.

I also finally rearranged my kitchen so my pots are hanging on the wall and my spices are no longer directly above the stove. The top of the refrigerator has been cleaned off and the desk as been taken back from the months of old mail and the 50,000 vitamins I take every day. My current to-do-this-week list includes hanging up the rest of the pictures, decorating for Christmas, and scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees like my momma done taught me.

Thanksgiving. So. I’m making a turkey. It’s my first and though I should be freaking out I’m oddly calm. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. I pick my baby up tomorrow and once I know how heavy it is I’ll have a better idea how I’m going to cook it. Right now the plan is herbs and butter under the skin, herbs and butter inside, and salt and pepper all over it. I’m pretty sure I’m going with high heat/short time as I think the breast of this bad boy is going to be smaller and I don’t want it to dry out. I’m also making roasted vegetables and as the turkey is being cooked at Nancy’s house and the vegetables are going to be cooked at our house I haven’t quite worked out the logistics of me being in two places at once. A clone would be nice.

I’ve decided to get a tree. Peter isn’t interested in the mess of it, but I think it’s worth it even if we’re not here for actual Christmas. Christmas isn’t about the day. It’s about the season! I love the smell. I love the ornaments. I love the lights at night! It makes me happy and damn it, I deserve to be happy.

In other news, handmade Christmas is being modified to ensure no one loses their mind (that’s me) or continues to be in agonizing pain due to carpel tunnel (that would be my sister). Only in the Davison household would someone end up with a hand made Christmas injury! I’m still really happy with the way things are looking, but mostly I’m starting to get ridiculously crazy excited about Christmas in Vermont. I only wish everyone had the chance to experience a Davison Family Christmas. Christmas Eve church service! The apple sausage pie on Christmas day! The cinnamon rolls! The Annual Davison Family Christmas Party where there is much eating, drinking and laughing!

I cannot wait.

it hasn't even really snowed yet

It’s just so November around here. I can feel it deep in my bones and down in my brain. Despite it being my birthmonth, I’m finding this November to be a bitch. I’d like to smack her around a little, but every time I raise my hand she strikes me first. At work. At home. Everywhere I go it seems November just wants me to lose.

I am really looking forward to December.

In the meantime, I’m trying everything I know to yank myself out of this seemingly endless cycle of feeling like I cannot win. I’m running consistently. I’m eating better. I’m trying to be a better sleeper. I’m slowing down. I’m making lists. I’m crossing things off. I’m taking my vitamins. I can’t seem to shake this feeling that I’m a complete and utter failure at just about everything I do and I’m trying to change what is obviously my completely skewed perception of reality.

Yes. I’m going to call my therapist if this continues past Thanksgiving.

But enough moping and whining! There have been a few bright spots. I took the train to Chicago where I went to SOFA and saw some amazing art and got inspired to create work. I ate sweetbreads for the first time (Good, not great, but I’d try them again), and had the best pecan roll I have ever had in my life. No. Really. It was a “Oh my LORD so THIS is what the dough is supposed to taste and feel like!” moment. I spent time with my college friend Michael Miller who, thanks to facebook, I have reconnected with and I will now be forever in facebook’s debt for bringing us back together. I read a new translation of Madame Bovary and remembered how much I like French things. I had an amazing birthday filled with a new Marushka, the discovery of Wendell Berry, a rib-eye from Salt of the Earth and some birthday shots with good friends at The Sandbar. I’m very proud of one particular hand made Christmas present that is thiiis close to being done. I’m excited to make my very first turkey next Thursday. The apartment is getting a good fall cleaning which makes me beyond happy. Christmas in Vermont is not far away.

I know I am lucky. I know I am blessed. I know this November will soon be over and I need to focus on those moments where things do come together and life is good and I am reminded the single most important thing is the interactions I am fortunate enough to have with the people in my life.

But November?

Watch your back.

oy. it has been a week.

Sunday started off with me hacking apart some pheasants a friend of mine shot. Did you know that even if they’re “clean” they’re not CLEAN? I spent some time cleaning off feathers and hunting for bbs. I wish I had watched Kevin-from-Top-Chef’s little tutorial about cutting up a chicken right before as it took me one pheasant to really get the hang of the butchering process. I also had a moment of panic when I came across a breast that was bloody-ish and oddly textured due to it being shot right through. A vague memory of a Little House on the Prairie episode where Pa said something about NOT eating the part with blood through it so I carefully cut around it. I went with my gut. My gut said no bloody meat.

Sunday afternoon we went to the VanTils and hung with the fam. I was Neal’s favorite for some reason. There’s a picture of Erin and Neal inside a very teeny tent. We also colored. And giggled. And read books. And caught “Neal’s guys” as they were rolling down a “ramp.”

Sunday night I learned that six people total are all I can have around my table for a sit down meal. In fact, I was seated in the rocking chair as I only have five chairs. Yeah. I need another chair. But the food was fabulous if I do say so myself: Roasted butternut squash and acorn soup with maple syrup, cinnamon and cayenne, asian pear and toasted walnut salad with homemade honey mustard dressing topped with seriously sharp cabot cheddar, brussles sprouts 2 ways-roasted in bacon fat with balsamic and braised in cream-, mashed potatoes and pheasant stew. Dessert was brought to us by Dan and Chip: apple bread pudding with homemade salted caramel sauce.

Sunday suppers are my favorite thing. Next time I’m more apt to do a late afternoon kind of deal, but I’m hoping it will become sort of a thing around these parts. Sharing a big delicious meal with friends is the way to go. And I know there are at least a couple of more people who would be more than happy to share a meal like this (Steve: I’m talking about you. And Taylor. Though Oxtail soup might be next in which case you’re not invited. Just Taylor.) Plus brunch was mentioned and I do love me some Sunday brunch especially if I get to drink out of bearded mugs.

The rest of the week was rough. I usually find my job fairly effortless, but for some reason this week kicked me in the teeth. The one bright spot was Tuesday night where I had a lovely time sitting at Butch’s with Peter drinking a Café Fiesta (tequila and coffee liqueur-the thought of which made my stomach turn, but it was delicious!) and chatting with Lance the bartender.

This weekend is insane. Carl is in town from NYC and crashing on our futon. We’re going to GR tonight to spend the night at the VanTils and go to Meijer Gardens tomorrow for the last day of the Chihuly exhibit. And make applesauce. Saturday night Kevin and Xtina are in town from Chicago and I’m hoping to catch a meal with them. Sunday Carl leaves, Peter works, and Erin will spend the afternoon not talking to anyone, working on Hand made Christmas waiting for Nature to come on at 8pm. Corvids are the topic. And I’ve got some opinions about them evil, evil birds.

this is what we call a perfect sunday

An ambling ride up Chicago Drive to the Corner Record shop which resulted in a copy of The White Stripes’ De Stijl and a Richard DeVos record for $1 entitled Selling America. I haven’t heard the DeVos yet, but the cover is special. There might need to be a special listening party for Holland’s Cultural Elite. Oxtail stew will be on the menu.

Lunch at The Green Well. No fewer than 9,672 people have suggested this place to me. I finally went. It was amazing. The mussels were the best I’ve had since NYC. Peter’s tomato soup was a particular highlight though my braised pork with creamy polenta were also delicious. I’d go back in a heartbeat.

Not going to ArtPrize, but instead finding parking on the dodgy end of Division right in front of Vertigo. Highlights included seeing Raleigh for the first time in 2 years, Coltrane’s Lush Life, MGMT, The Letting Go by BPB, and 2 free movie tickets.

Schuller’s. We wanted to go to Literary Life, but alas, they’re closed on Sundays. Schuller was the next best thing.

Seeing Legends of the Guardian. Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking about the owl movie. Peter’s choice, but a good one. We wanted to see a movie. We didn’t want to see anything…well…good. It actually was good. It had a decent Joseph Campbellesque myth story and the owl fights were great. Seriously. Do yourself a favor and skip The Social Network on the big screen (honestly, you can see that on DVD) and go see some badass owl battles.

Finishing Top Chef NYC while eating Papa John’s pizza. Because nothing says foodie like garlic butter dipping sauce from the papa.


I was hoping such awesomeness yesterday would result in a stellar start to my work week. Foolish, Erin. Work is a separate little hell all its own. Between the computers being up then down then up then down then up again, having to input a bunch of checkouts and the whole time being interrupted with questions half of which did not specifically pertain to my job, I started to wonder if maybe there was a full moon. Nope. Just Erin being too competent again. I know my impatience is a direct result of a bad night of sleeping. When one takes 2 Benedrylls at 11:30pm one expects to be knocked out for 7 ½ hours. Instead I was awake until at least 1:30ish only to wake up again at 3am. I seriously considered getting up. I guess I’m glad I didn’t.

i am not in charge here people

Meh. That’s how I feel today. Just. meh.

Ladies and gentlemen: I have a Homemade Christmas spreadsheet. Now I need to fill in the blank spots and start making. There are materials to buy. There are things to design and execute. It’s an impressive list, imho, and if I manage to pull it off I will officially feel like a rock star.

In other rock star news, my kitchen has been producing some outfreakingstanding stuff. Sunday night I roasted brussels sprouts in bacon fat and balsamic. I made pan fried chicken with PAN SAUCE. The next night I roasted a butternut squash (Did you know if you roast some garlic cloves in the little hole along with the squash not only will your squash taste of delicious sweet roasted garlic goodness, but you can then put the roasted garlic goodness into your soup? Deborah Madison done taught me that little trick.) and made soup with my leftover veggie stock, some VT maple syrup, cayenne, and cinnamon. That ruled. I also had leftover PAN SAUCE so I made some orecchiette and tossed that all together. That ruled. Last night I roasted cauliflower and leeks and made beef stew with leftover pot roast from the freezer and homemade beef stock and topped it with steamed broccoli. That ruled the most.

The market is dwindling. The farm I get my lettuce from informed me this was the last day for lettuce as everything else froze which is a huge bummer. I suspect I bought the last round of green beans for the season today as well. I’m happy to have the cauliflower, brussels sprouts, and squash, but Dec 2 is looming. I always get in a funk at the end of market season. I’m hoping my new obsession with stock will get me through. And Crane Dance. I want to marry Crane Dance Farms and have their delicious meat babies.

I’m 20ish pages from the end of Angle of Repose by Stegner. Yeesh. Clunky book. I cannot believe this book won the Pulitzer. The characters are flat. The structure is contrived. The story is okay, but it just ain’t enough. Next up is A Wrinkle in Time (Peter’s choice) and I just ordered the new Lydia Davis translation of Madame Bovary. Which I should read before winter hits else I fear I’ll be back where I was with Anna Karenina. Those were some dark days.

So, we have the interwebs in our home now. I gotta tell you I’m underwhelmed. I forget that it’s there a lot of the time. I’ll be happier when I buy my own laptop I think, but I fear we’ll end up “watching a movie” together only to have us both buried in facebook or something. I have enjoyed having it available for cooking purposes and I know I’ll enjoy it for writing, but the interwebs?

Meh.

the weekend is nigh

Here’s the plan-

Friday night: Blitzen Trapper at the Ladies Lit Club with about a million of my most favorite people from west Michigan. The biggest bummer is that ArtPrize is going on so parking could be a drag as could getting my preshow ritual Irish carbomb from The Cottage. The show itself? Not concerned. Blitzen Trapper could potentially blow the roof off the place.

Saturday: Peter and Erin have the whole day off. Together. With no specific plans. This is epic. This never ever happens. The market will probably happen. A trip to Sandcastle will probably happen. Beef stock might happen. And French Onion soup. Possibly something involving chicken. Maybe a trip to Target to get another season of Top Chef which has become my most favorite show. Anything is possible.

Sunday: Peter and Erin have the whole day off. Together. This is epic. This never ever happens. But Sunday is a biiiig day as it’s Neal’s 2nd birthday party. There will be hardhats. There will be cake. And presents. Lots of presents most likely. There will be crazy children running wild. Anything is possible.

I really need to get organized with homemade Christmas. There are ideas marinating, but as October 1 is tomorrow (and my mother gently reminded me that as we’re flying to Vermont this year mayhaps I’ll want to get my act together in time to ship presents) I need to start producing. I got sidetracked by a scarf for Peter to match his most favorite winter coat and I really need to finish my embroidery sampler which was supposed to just get thrown away, but has been requested by the Boyles to be stitched together for a table..thingy. I hesitate to call it a tablecloth as it is for a side table, but I guess it’s sort of a tablecloth. I may need to make myself a chart with everyone’s name and a list of what I’m making. I have some new ideas and some things I’ve never done before in the works. I will not freak out. I will become a crafting machine.

And every year I say it, but this year I mean it: I will start in January next year.

Will I ever learn?

food glorious food!

Currently residing in my freezer:

1 chicken carcass
9 chicken feet
3 packages of organic chicken thighs
1 oxtail
2 lamb shanks
1 beef soup bone
1 package of pig necks
1 lb of ground lamb
1 lb of bacon

I’ve somehow managed to squeeze in 1 gallon bag of blueberries, sweet corn, peppers, and an ongoing bag of vegetable scraps for stock as well.

I’m in a cooking sort of mood. Can you tell?

This weekend I made vegetable stock for the first time (thanks to Xtina suggesting I put my scraps in a bag in the freezer) which then led to a kale and white bean soup. Sunday I made a roast in the crockpot with potatoes, carrots and onions. I also made gravy. Which ruled. If I do say so myself. I, for some reason, have always looked down upon the crockpot. I am here to say I was wrong. Not only is it 100 times more energy efficient than my oven, it’s 100 time easier. There are things I still will not do. A whole chicken belongs in the oven. But thighs? Thighs I could do in the crockpot. The lamb shanks I’d prefer to do in a dutch oven (which I’ve been pricing at TJ Maxx. It’s going to be my own little present to myself.), but the oxtail is absolutely being made in the crockpot.

My name is Erin. And I was wrong. The crockpot is a glorious invention.

In other food news, Rebecca and I went to Butch’s where I had the most delicious scallops I have ever encountered. The bacon apple risotto was meh, but the scallops were outstanding. The crab stuffed portabello was good in theory, but a wee bit cold. We came thiiis close to sending it back. I need to get into sending things back.

I’ve been asked by a server to help her come up with some vegetarian suggestions per the chef’s request. I have until tomorrow night. I can tell I’ve not just fallen off the vegetarian wagon, I’ve jumped on board the meat train as every thing I come up with sounds great until I realize I want frites in duck fat. Or black beans. With pork.

My vegetarian friends: I remember with fondness my wonderful years having a near 100% plant based diet. I remember how satisfying and eclectic my diet was. I remember how superior I felt. And I did feel superior. I still think vegetarians should feel superior. It’s better for you. It’s better for the environment. It’s just better.

But, my vegetarian friends: meat tastes good. I am weak. You are strong. I'll think about how delicious brussels sprouts are all by themselves as I'm enjoying my brussels sprouts roasted in bacon fat.

well....huh.

I appear to have a blog.

Ahem.

Here’s what’s happened:

a bunch of people came into town including Metal, Reynolds, Becky and Sandy, Kevin and Xtina, Michael Miller, Heather Mickelson, Krista and Amy, Carl and Rasa.

That was August.

There was a young African American felon sleeping on our porch for a spell. He has recently moved to Allegan. That was nice.

I have an oxtail in my freezer and am on the hunt for rabbit.

I have made awesome chicken thighs, delicious sausages, amazing vegetable sauces, tasty salads. I have not grilled enough. I’m looking forward to stock making season and bread making season and braising meats and wearing legwarmers with tights.

I have not been running. This should be remedied.

I am currently reading “Freedom” by Franzen.

Peter turns 30 next weekend and we’re going to Wheatland for the first time. I’m going to see Toad the Wet Sprocket with my gayboyfriend Michael. I’m hopefully going to see The Press Delete play their first paying gig at Founders. Tickets for Blitzen Trapper have been purchased. As have tickets for The Books.

Fall is looking mighty good to me.

mad men. season three. hey-yo!

What a lovely weekend.

Saturday I had a lunch date that started at 12:30pm and didn't end until 7:30pm. We, of course, did not eat that entire time. But that's what happens when a friend comes into town somewhat unexpectedly and you haven't seen each other in about 2 years. It was awesome. And heavenly. There are now brunch plans in the works for the next time I'm in Chicago as this particular friend happens to be from Chicago as do about a brazillion other people I know from college. Some of these people I have not seen in 10 years. I cannot wait.

In market news: I bought the most expensive meat I have ever bought in my life. $20 for 4 lamb chops. Yeeeeeah. I'm TERRIFIED I'm going to mess them up. I have never cooked lamb before and it's grassfed which is awesome, but also a wee bit trickier given the lack of fat. These babies could go from perfect to overdone in milliseconds. Think medium rare lamb thoughts for me Tuesday night as I do them up.

Tonight's supper is also a market creation: summer squash, eggplant, onion, garlic, tomato and swiss chard on a bed of pasta tossed with walnut garlic scape pesto. It's possible I went a tad overboard with the veggies, but 'tis the season I say!

This week: survive work, clean the apartment in anticipation of some cool chickens staying over, run, market, go see The Press Delete at lemonjellos, make appointments for next week as....

it looks like Erin may have gotten that vacation time after all!

happy solstice!

What a weekend.

Big market day: blueberries, raspberries and cherries are all in. I skipped the blueberries and went for the raspberries and cherries and strawberries. We also bought an obscene amount of asparagus with which I’m planning on soaking, blanching and freezing. I’m finally starting to get a little asparagused out, but give me a couple of months and asparagus soup is gonna be awesome. I also got kale from CJ’s and some new potatoes from Visser. The new potatoes are white (I always get their German butterball) and have such a potato-ey flavor I’m going to have to make potato salads tonight. Plus Visser brought me sugar snap peas which I’m putting in everything these days. I was also tempted by 2 different kinds of Grassfield farms cheese and DeBoer bread.

Market season is my most favorite time of year.

Saturday night found me feeling some zeal. Yummy burgers and yummy asparagus and yummy beer and good times were on the menu. Sunday was the annual Father’s Day picnic at the VanTils which meant yummy steak and yummy grilled shrimp and yummy asparagus and yummy kale and yummy greek salad and yummy lemonade pie. Last night we recovered from our social lives with some yummy tuna pasta salad with sugar snap peas and fresh cherries and a very special cookie.

The week is a complete unknown to me. I have no plans. I don’t know when Peter is working. I’m hoping the weather cooperates so I can get some rides in and if not rides than at least may it not storm so running is possible.

Now let summer begin!

it's probably got something to do with not having been to the beach

I am in a funk. And I don't like it. Not one bit.

I'm doing my darnedest to drag myself out of it. There are good things happening: It's summer! The market is amazing! I'm running consistently! I have my bike at the new apartment! I've been eating some delicious homemade food!

There are, of course, not so good things happening too: Work has been drama-filled thanks to a whole lot of misinformation about our upcoming budget year. I have 3 vacation days I need to use and it appears I'm not able to use them when I'd prefer. Peter's and my schedule are completely opposite which means we get one night off together a week. If we're lucky. My sleep patterns are a mess.

I have good things on the horizon: 3 unused vacation days! A visit from Rebecca and Sandy! Pitchfork! I will no longer have to work Sundays! Ever!

Solstice is on Monday. I plan on using that to re-jumpstart my summer.

It'll be all good.

when everyone wants a piece of you there tends to be little left

I am beyond ready for this week to be over. Maybe it was because I decided against the market this week. Maybe it had something to do with my erratic sleep schedule. Maybe my being perceived as the library employee you love to hate played a part. This week goes down as the single worst week I’ve had in months.

There were a few tiny slivers of sunlight. I had a fab time hanging out with my gayboyfriend Monday night and texting him throughout the season finale of Glee Tuesday night. I decided it was time to get back to doing things I love so I ran twice this week and decided I needed a goal of a half marathon this fall. Peter cleaned the bathroom and made a delicious meal all by himself. And, most importantly, this week is soon over.

I have a good weekend shaping up. I’m finally getting to spend some time with the BFF-lunching and thrifting and hanging out. Saturday night I might just take myself out for supper somewhere with The Lonely Polygamist (I’m referring to the book, not a religious transformation). I will run even though it will be 87 degrees.

I will be chilling deep.

the weekend may or may not include some or all of the following:

Project Runway-a-thon
Sung Tongs on vinyl
Blitzen Trapper on vinyl
The market
candied bacon crumbled on top of hardboiled eggs with cayenne pepper
She and Him in Royal Oak
running
Founders in the afternoon
Bring him to the Greek
drooling over Martha Stewart’s insane Encyclopedia of sewing and fabric crafts
reading The Lonely Polygamist
a martini
bedtime reading of Genesis
thunderstorms

so this day is happening

Awesomeness:
my parents being in town for over a week
summertime in Michigan
kimchee
Select Seconds on South Washington
Rebel Reclaimed in GR
BYOB Korean bbq restaurants
Reading the NYT on a Sunday all the way through
Rebecca and Rebecca’s Sandy
walking to The Vic
Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings
The Southshore Line from MI City
city buses
asparagus season
3 more days of vacation
anticipating Michigan fruit season
goat cheese cheesecake
Bistro Bella Vita
Kind of Blue on vinyl
prosciutto with triple cream and pasta
summer menus at favorite restaurants
Don DeLillo’s Underworld
Project Runway
Literary Life bookstore
Charlie Rose
free unexpected martinis
craft buffets and sewing machine desks

Not-so-awesomeness:
library budget cuts
BP’s incompetence
missing out on Mesick
my mortality measured in the books I will never read
bad record wire

"we're gonna get high and listen to miles"

Yesterday was the first day of the farmers market.

Woo hoo!

The haul included: 3 lbs of asparagus (from 2 different farmers), 1 loaf of bread (I need to buy yeast!), ½ lb of spinach, and 1 lb of the most amazing bacon ever.

The bacon came from Crane Dance Farm in Middleville-a new vendor to Holland. It was a complete impulse buy. I’d been wanting some bacon in the house for awhile, but everything at Meijer just seemed…gross. All processed by ConAgra, full of nitrates and god knows what. This is nitrate-free and though not certified organic the closest I’m going to get. It’s also insanely expensive at $7/lb, but worth it. I cannot wait to make a BLT with heirloom tomatoes on homemade bread with market lettuce from that one family vendor whose name I can never remember….Botsma? Boersma? South east side 1/3 of the way from River….Anyway, it’s gonna be sweet. What’s also sweet? Crane Dance sells lamb, grass fed beef and a limited amount of chickens (only sold whole!!!) plus duck and goose eggs. I’m determined to get me at least one goose egg before the very short spring season is over. Those babies are ginormous. They also take orders for heirloom turkeys which means this could be the year I decide to finally do me up a Thanksgiving right like.

The ½ lb of spinach was not in the plan. I was talked into it at Visser Farms because I was “making a frittata and you’re gonna want spinach in that frittata.” He was right. I did.

We did not, by the way, consume all 3 lbs of that asparagus. 1 lb went to a coworker, ½ lb went to the frittata, ¼ lb went to Peter’s supper the other night and the rest will hopefully be turned into soup tomorrow night. This means Saturday I’ll be in the market for some more asparagus.

A new vinegar and oil shop opened downtown in Holland. Yeah, that’s right. I said “vinegar and oil shop.” It’s in the old Kilwins (which has relocated to the corner of the overpriced slightly silly looking outdoor fireplace brought to you partially by the Holland taxpayer. You’re welcome, tourists.) and it is awe-some. A big old empty room lined with flavored oils and vinegars. And they have truffle oil. And they have an 18 year old balsamic that is so going to be taking up residence in my kitchen as soon as I can justify the $18 a bottle price.

I almost feel bad for my local record shop owner as all the money I’d been spending on records is now being diverted to market and food stuffs. Someday I’ll figure out a balance.

In unrelated to food news: The Davisons are here!

Woo Hoo!

go folks! go forth! go folks! trust your brain! trust your body!

I am so tricksy.

I made lasagna last night. I made healthier lasagna last night: double the spinach and half the cheese (and fewer noodles too, but don’t tell Peter because he’s already mad I tricked him into eating more vegetables and less cheese than he thought he was eating.) I credit my success to 2 things:

I “made” my own sauce. Okay, okay I didn’t completely make my own sauce. I used one jar of organic no-sugar-added tomato sauce, but doctored it up. Sauteed garlic, crushed San Marzano tomatoes, and a delicate hand with spices go a loooong way to improving a sauce.

I substituted some really good grated parmesan and/or romano for some shredded mozzarella. Small amounts of really good full flavored cheese will yield far superior tastes to watery fakey shredded mozzarella. Don’t get me wrong: I used some watery fakey shredded mozzarella in there too (and light cheese at that), but the majority of cheese was the good stuff.

In other food related news, I’m officially a baker of bread. We’ve made the switch from buying bread (what ARE some of those ingredients in “whole wheat” bread anyway?!?!) to me baking it every week. I’m still not in love love love with the texture. The crumb is a little dense. But the flavor is crazy healthy. I mean, you bite into this bread and you think to yourself “Dang! I am eating me some healthy bread!” Yesterday I whipped up a half batch of olive oil whole wheat dough half of which I intend to make into a caramelized onion, pear and gorgonzola pizza tonight. My next bread batch I’m adding ground flaxseed. Just watch me.

In other nonfood related news, Rebecca came into down and left me with an air conditioner and an adorable little desk. She also left me longing to hang out with her more. I’ve watched 4 episodes of the first season of Glee and huge surprise I love it. The federal government sent me a letter telling me they had found an error on my taxes in my favor (!!!) and I done got my money this week (!!!!). I’m successfully managing to a 40 minute run/walk at least every other day. I’ve started reading Underworld by DeLillo and it is crazy insanely awesome and I wish I could take a week off from life to read it in one felled swoop.

But most importantly: Tulip Time has begun and not only do I not hate it, I actually kind of love it.

sorry only childfree couples allowed

Brunch is the greatest invention EVER. Sunday morning was fab. I’m seriously hoping to continue this tradition on a regular basis. And sharing food making responsibilities is the best way to go. Both Christina and I chose easy, but wow-worthy foods. I suspect when the Davison’s make their appearance in a few weeks brunch may be on the agenda.
This week we had bloody marys. There has been a request for mimosas next time.

Saturday night I finally outdid myself with chicken and dumplings. I added more garlic, onion and celery in the broth-making process which probably is the reason I blew my own mind. And last night Peter made supper and it didn’t come out of boxes or cans! He made gorgonzola chicken pasta with leftover roasted chicken and broth. He done did good. I know he got a little overwhelmed, but as he can read he did just fine with the cooking part. I was quite impressed.

Tonight I’m gonna make up some sort of chicken mole sauce-probably mole negro as it’s my personal favorite, but no one else seems to like it. After that I’m heading down to Butch’s armed with a red pen and about 70 pages of poetry as I’ve been asked to edit a supertopsecretpoetrymanuscript.

Hopefully you’ll get to read it someday too.

wishes she could slate out why my generation loves mad men and the previous generation does not

The electric stovetop continues to frustrate me. I remember when it used to take almost no time at all to heat up some water for tea. I remember when I could heat up some soup in a snap. I remember when I could make gravy. I remember when my eggs were perfect every time.

I have, however, become a master chicken roaster. Roasting chickens and making stock are so easy and delicious and satisfying. And I finally did my first batch of no-knead healthy bread. The first 2 loaves were awesome. The last 2 loaves were a little dough-y, but still good. This weekend I’m going to whip up another batch in the hopes we can finally replace buying whole wheat sandwich bread with homemade which I think I can do and still satisfy Peter. And I need to make some more risotto because for some reason I can’t seem to fry a decent egg, but my risotto rules.

In other food related news, Sunday we’re going to brunch at Christina and Travis’ house. The menu thus far consists of some sort of puff pastry, egg, and spinach thing, roasted asparagus salad with walnuts and goat cheese, and spicy roasted potatoes with tamarind crème fraiche. Christina, in addition to the puff pastry/egg/spinach thing is making something sweet because that’s what Christina does best. The woman is a sweet-thing wizard. This brunch business is our attempt at getting together when we have time as opposed to waiting until all 4 of us are free on a weekend which happens maybe once every six months. It’ll be fun. I know the espresso will be divine.

The apartment continues to slowly come together. We have some vague plans involving getting rid of the leather couch if our landlords agree (I think they will. They seemed surprised we wanted it in the first place.) and moving the record player into the dining area. I’ve been on a record buying spree, but the set-up right now just isn’t conducive to me listening all that much. I thought I’d like having the living room “separated” from the dining room, but it just feels closed off and weird. Plus if we go back to just the futon we’ll have room for the rocking chair, the recliner, and maybe an IKEA chair that may or may not be available.

Nothing is currently hanging on the walls except for a kitty calendar of course. That will come. I’m still thinking a wall dedicated to the totally bizarre art print collection from the Herrick District Library might be in order. We do still have boxes not unpacked, but it’s all things we legitimately do not have furniture for: we need bookcases, we need a place for our games, I need a craft armoire. Any time I get stressed out about not having that stuff I just remind myself this is how it works. We don’t have everything we need and we can’t afford to just go out and buy it. It will take time.

This weekend: who knows. It’s been a long week. I’m ready to have one whole day where the only thing I HAVE to do is run.

And maybe go to the Sandbar.

grace

Ten years ago 3 women were living on East 15th street hanging out on a porch with friends when a skinny little cat showed up. I distinctly remember telling everyone NOT to PET the cat because once we did she'd be ours.

Six kittens, seven apartments, and countless memories later my beautiful cat has passed away. She was a cat's cat. Her expressions were unparalleled. Her love of food was well known. She was an excellent jumper in her younger days and loved high places. She adored chattering at birds. Grace was a terrible mother who once painstakingly dragged her kittens one by one and deposited them on a pile of electrical cords. She wasn't much of a hunter but did leave us a gift of what was probably an already dead mouse on the floor one morning after we'd been gone for a week. Grace was not a fan of other cats. Or dogs. Or anything that might take attention away from her. She did like a good petting especially around the ears and the behind. She was an excellent sleeper and could cuddle with the best.

Apparently Grace had been battling an illness for quite some time, but showed no signs until she had settled us into our new apartment.

Grace is survived by countless people who had the pleasure of knowing her.

She will be missed.

a full life

So we live somewhere else. Which is wild. And awesome. One might say it's wildly awesome.

This morning was the epitome of awesome as it began with a run to Window on the Waterfront after which I met my friend Molly at the Windmill for breakfast (where she convinced me to apply to co-present at the next PLA). By the time I got home and showered I still had an hour before I needed to be at work so I convinced Peter we should walk down to Full Circle and pick up The Morning Benders record I had ordered and stop by Lemonjellos for iced tea and a pound of coffee.

This is a life I could get used to.

So far the only downfall of the place is the stove which happens to be electric and I hate it. I'll learn, but I suspect I'll be burning or under cooking alot of stuff before I get the hang of it. On the bright side the oven seems awesome so I'm planning on getting into baking. Saturday's menu is roasted chicken, sauteed spinach or kale, homemade bread and Irish carbomb cupcakes. Sunday will be chicken stock day so all next week I'll have good stock to get me through the forecasted rainy weather.

Grace, by the way, is just fine. I think she's in love with the carpet and the multiple sunny spots she gets to choose from.

Grace has MULTIPLE sunny spots to choose from!

Sigh.

Did I mention life is awesome?

peter has a 'stache without a beard. no joke.

I made chicken stock.

!!!!

Alright, it’s not really that big of a deal except I’d never done it before and though I’d heard it was super easy and totally worth it, I thought my Better than Boullion was sufficient nor do I frequently have a carcass of a chicken hanging around. Saturday I had 4 hours and a dead chicken carcass. It was glorious. The smell was so comforting. The taste was unparalleled. The stock tasted like chicken and celery and onion and garlic and carrot and pepper. It did not taste like chemicals and salt. Saturday night I served up chicken and dumplings (Peter’s new favorite meal). Deeeelicious!

I am officially a homemade stock convert. I will now be one of those people who saves bones in her freezer to use when necessary which sounds kind of vile to this former vegetarian, but the results are worth it.

Next up: consistent bread baking. I will make room in my new fridge (which I fear is significantly smaller than my old fridge) for this whole no-knead-bread business my friend keeps RAVING about. I have the book. I just need to do it.

I have 3 days left of work before I get 4 days off to move. Excessive? Maybe. But the sanity of myself and my loved ones is worth 4 days off. This move is gonna be smooth like jazz.

thanks rebecca now all i'm thinking about is stuffed gnocchi with pesto from la gondola

So we didn’t have water for a couple of days at the barn. That was super. We do now. That’s more super.

Other things in the more super column:

earlier access than we expected to the new apartment
an outstanding stretch of weather
Glitter and Doom on vinyl
discussing wildly inappropriate and highly offensive topics
the beef tenderloin sandwich from Phil’s
finally getting to talk to Rebecca on the phone
random pictures of NOLA from my Dad
hanging out in the filthy barn with the kapteyn-dekkinga’s
drinking coffee in a nice shower
peter’s simultaneous joy and despair over the beginning of cleavage season
sleeping the sleep to end all sleeps

I just realized that last one sounds a little dark, but it’s actually referring to my most recent bout of being a bad sleeper. I’m confident tonight is the night I’ll be so tired I’ll have no choice but to sleep for a goodly amount of time.

Coming soon: The adventures of Peter and Erin babysitting Neal: the sequel

some days are just best left alone

This is what happened yesterday:

At 1:30am Tuesday morning I woke up with a sharp pain in the neck. I was up most of the night moaning to myself on the futon. I took fistfuls of ibuprofen throughout the day. Why, you might ask yourself, in the world did I bother going to work when clearly I was in substantial pain?

Carolina Chocolate Drops at the Ladies Lit Club, my friends.

A sold out, footstomping, handclapping good time was had by me. The cover of Blu Cantrell’s “Hit Em Up Style” was particularly amazing. It was the right show, in the right venue for this chicken.

One would think after such an awesome musical experience the day after would prove stellar. Unfortunately, this day was against me from the minute I was forced to open my eyes. There’s really nothing more to it than a general overall feeling of suckiness. In typical Erin fashion I also chose to handle this mood in the worst way possible: skip breakfast, skip coffee, and walk to work in the rain listening to Bon Iver.

Many thanks to Peter for bringing me leftover chinaman food just because he knew I’d need it.

He was right. I did.

down but not out

I'm sick. One of those sicks that makes you want to crawl into bed and not get out until you feel better. A sick that makes you feel dizzy and woozy and like passing out if you move too quickly. A sick sick. Unfortunately I have no choice but to be here as my partner in overdue crime is on vacation until Wednesday. I'm just gonna have to suck it up and get 'er done.

It's officially official: we're moving April 1. Technically we're hoping to move March 28. Or April 3. As no one can help anyone move on a Thursday. I'll miss the barn. I really will. That place is so unique and we had some really good times there, but it is time to move on. Time to have a bathroom that is all in one room. Time to have a full size stove. Time to have space for 4 people to sit around a table and enjoy a meal together. Time for Erin to have some freedom to go places and do things when the car isn't available.

It's just time.

I've been a cooking fiend lately. Soba with spicy sauce and tofu, chicken and dumplings, and chocolate chip bars. I also ate sardines for the first time (delicious on rye crisps with spicy mustard) and tried menudo Saturday night (the tripe had a way better texture than I expected-kind of melt-in-your-mouthy and then a little...rubbery. But anyone who likes calamari should have no trouble with tripe) I told Peter we should spend the next month trying to eat out of our pantry and freezer as much as possible so we don't have to move stuff. I foresee lots of lentils, beans, oatmeal, and bread.

Today: go get spicy thai food for lunch, survive the afternoon at work, go home to some bean soup, comfort Peter as he's sick too and suspects he's dying, and be asleep by 9:30pm.

so

I stayed up too late watching women's figure skating. AGAIN. Thank the Lord that's over.

I started my morning off on about, oh, 4ish hours of sleep. I had some sugary deBoer's treat too late at night as I watched the aforementioned women's figure skating. I somehow managed to get Peter up and moving early enough to hit lemonjellos this morning for a biiiig coffee and thus began the single best morning at work I have ever had.

Ever.

I had a fabulous idea for the library that I think is going to come to fruition. I was complimented on my smile. I was personally thanked for being so "sweet" and "understanding." I was told my some of my least favorite patrons that I am their absolute favorite person at the library because I'm so nice. Old men found me charming. Young mothers were eternally grateful for my patience. I honestly thought maybe I had stumbled into an alternate universe.

And despite one incredibly bitchy patron and a really sad wasted man busted for having a half gallon of vodka in the building the whole day hasn't been too bad.

Tonight:

Go through those boxes of personal stuff I really want to just toss, but probably won't because my friends are right they are part of who I am and I will be sad 10 years from now when I don't have them.

Make spicy noodles. Or risotto. Something comforting and noodle-y.

Talk to Rebecca if the stars are aligned.

Watch Old Joy because it's warm and green and a perfect movie to watch on a really snowy night.

recipe for the best day off

Clean out your closet: Remove every single wire hanger you have acquired over the last 3 months from the laundromat and replace with empty plastic hangers. This will take a while as wire hangers that have dropped to the floor and gotten tangled up with other wire hangers that have dropped to the floor are more difficult to untangle than untangling angora yarn.

Make coffee: Good coffee. Strong coffee.

Sudoku: Start with an easy one. It will make you feel smart.

Take a shower: And listen to Erin and Peter's Psychedelic 2009 mix.

Try on every single piece of clothing in your now de-wirehangered closet: If it doesn't fit put it in a bag. If you haven't worn it in a year put it in a bag. If it doesn't fit, but you remember how awesome it was when it did fit and you think it's possible it might fit in 6 months keep it. You are only allowed to keep 6 items in this category so choose carefully. Weep a little at how much doesn't fit anymore. Resolve to fit into it again.

Make 1st meal of the day: Forget everything that just happened with the weeping and make yourself a ham and brie cheese panini with honey mustard and a side salad with homemade balsamic. Have a small glass of red wine. Don't look at the time. Just have the glass of wine.

Take a knitting break: Turn on the Gilmore Girls and knit. Think about the bullshit that is Rory Gilmore. Anna Karenina in the tenth grade? Proust in the 9th grade?!?! She has dead eyes and you hate her. Text Peter a long rambling (and what you believe to be insightful) text about Rory Gilmore and how much you hate her. Watch another episode and keep knitting.

Bake banana bread: Turn on some NPR. Mix everything by hand. Your arms will hurt. Remember how strong you were when you lifted weights. Vow to start lifting weights again. Everytime you come across a small lump of flour think about the step you skipped regarding sifting the flour. Vow to sift the flour next time. Consider adding chocolate chips for Peter. Remember the weeping. Don't add the chocolate chips.

Clean out the downstairs closet: Consider having to move a bunch of stuff you threw into the closet when you moved last time and never used. Make a big pile for Goodwill. Take back the tent. Take back the lantern. Take back the hiking backpack. Take back the 2 boxes of journals, pictures, and memories you've lugged from apartment to apartment. Think about asking Metafilter or Facebook how long people hold onto the past. Open a journal from your freshman year of highschool. Read one entry and throw it back into a box. Put off going through any of the personal shit until Sunday. This project will take awhile.

Take a break: Sit at the kitchen table in the afternoon sun. Listen to that Press Delete song you love on repeat. Pick up a pen and start writing about how much you've loved this apartment. Remember the first time you used the secret door to get upstairs. Remember listening to Alan Ginsburg read "America" while laying on the couch at an ungodly hour. Remember Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Total Destruction! Remember the patio of truth. Remember the games of idiot, the delicious meals, the deer out back, the flying squirrel, the pilgrim fireworks. Remember reading Infinite Jest. Remember this is where you realized the person you are with was the person you want to be with for a long time. Weep a little. Blame the song. Then realize despite yourself you are indeed a sentimental sap.

Knit: Watch some more Gilmore Girls. Consider calling Rebecca, but realize it's only 5pm in Chicago and she's probably not free. Hate on Rory. Finish a knitting project.

Make meal #2: Thinking that tupperware container on the bottom shelf is full of sauce decide to make homemade gnocchi. The sauce was good. It needs to be eaten. Gnocchi is good. You have time. Use your potato ricer for the first time. As the riced potato sits and cools take out the container and realize it's not sauce, but just tomato puree. Consider forgetting the whole thing. Look at the beautiful pile of riced potatoes. Start making sauce. Use whatever you have. Think about how good clinging sauces are with gnocchi. Pour yourself another glass of wine. Put on Animal Collective. Enjoy every single moment of the process.

Eat supper: Don't read. Don't sudoku. Turn your phone off. Put on the Peter and Erin mix. Savor every bite. Be amazed with yourself. You rule.

Clean up: Don't let things soak. Do the dishes. You hate waking up the morning to dishes. Just do them. You'll feel better.

Watch Strictly Global: Realize you are not a fan of Latvian jazz-inspired Europop. Remember 2 weeks ago when you turned it on and the new Yeasayer single was on. Swear you'll shut off the tv if the next video isn't Yeasayer. Watch 3 more videos. Turn off the tv.

Go to bed: It's only 9:30 and you haven't heard from Rebecca. Consider calling her then, but realize you'll probably get all giddy and excited and girly which is not conducive you to falling asleep. Feel regret you didn't talk to Rebecca. Settle in with All The Pretty Horses. Be in awe of Cormac McCarthy's ability to write some of the best prose ever. Fall asleep with your light on.

so it's february

Reading: Game Change. HiLARIOUS book. It's all on deep background so who knows what's true, but man oh man it's a hoot. I feel like I'm reliving the 2008 race from the inside. And, huge surprise, the inside is a disgusting display of overblown egos, too much money, and crazy people. The wise man who lent the book referred to it as the political equivalent of sausage making. Everyone loves to eat the sausage but no one wants to see how it's made. Except for junkies like me.

Also reading: Cannery Row. I'm coming off the Michael Printz award winner from this year (Going Bovine. Good ya book) and tried reading Youth in Revolt, but abandoned it when I realized I just wasn't getting enough out of it not being a 14 year old boy and all. Cannery Row was next to the bed and is a perfect collection of character snippets. Steinbeck is still a god to me.

Cooking: Chili! Sunday was the first official/unofficial chili cookoff between the lesbians, Travistina and us. I went with two small batches of different varieties. I actually loved them both. One was black beans, poblanos in adobo, onion, garlic, tomatoes, and the kicker: broth with negro mole. So it was really spicy and chocolatey and delicious. Topped with oaxacan cheese and served with honey cornbread. The second was a green chili with roasted garlic, pinto beans, tomatillo salsa, jalapenos, cilantro and broth with green mole. That one was topped with crunchy corn tortilla chips, more cilantro, lime, and queso fresco. Now originally this was going to be a competition. We were all going to vote and a chili genius would be named for a year. Alas, some may have taken it a wee bit more seriously and all declared everyone a winner. Secretly? I declared myself the winner. The leftovers of the black bean chili made for amazing enchiladas and this morning I finished off the green chili with eggs.

I am the chili god.

Other news: we've put in an application for a new apartment. Yes, yes indeedy it is time to leave the barn. We've looked at 2 and fell in love with one. It's on W 14th St almost directly behind the library which means what? ERIN WILL BE FREE AT LAST! I'd be within walking distance of work no matter what the weather or what time of night it is. I'd be within walking distance of the farmers market. I'd be within walking distance of downtown Holland where all my favorite places exist: Full Circle, Lemonjellos, Readers World, The Windmill, and Butchs. It's an upstairs apartment with high ceilings, a full size stove (!!!!), and big windows. Keep your fingers crossed, send good vibes, or pray this works out. Our application went in on Monday and we have no idea when we will hear.

More other news: I love the new Yeasayer, we're contemplating 3-day Pitchfork passes this year, I'm almost finished with my first Christmas present for 2010, I have a top secret running budding with a goal in mind for June, and The Wire may be the most consistently good show I have ever seen.

Life ain't bad.

alright alright alright alright

So, Massachusetts sucks. And the Supreme Court just overturned the past 50 years of campaign finance reform.

USA! USA! USA!

I have a friend who lives in Winnepeg and she's always trying to get us to go out there and visit her so we can see how awesome it is. This year I might just take her up on it. Canada could be a nice place to live.

In other news, I'm still not a Radiohead fan, but thanks to my Animal Collective Pandora station I did actually enjoy "Go to sleep" so maybe there's hope for me yet.

It's getting on late January and we haven't had snow for 2 weeks. I'm sure that will change.

I'm watching The Wire and it's as good as everyone has said it would be.

I had my 6 month cancer check and so far so good.

Cooking has been happening. We did our annual "It's January Let's Pretend It's Summer" burgers and sweet potato fries for supper. Heavenly. My carrot ginger soup is amazing, if I do say so myself. I've recently created a pasta dish involving roasted beets, goat cheese, kalamata olives and red onion. It's almost there. And on Superbowl Sunday we're going up against Travistina and the lesbians in a chili cookoff. We've been experimenting some. I have a black bean chili I want to try. And someday I'll finally bake some no-knead bread.

Three fingers on my left hand are a disgusting awesome callousy mess thanks to a regular regime of guitar playing. I'm currently trying to master the art of strumming, changing chords and singing. It's hard. Any person who is willing to get up in front of a bunch of people, play and sing are truly awesomely talented in my book.

Medication and The Dutchess and the Duke were awesome. Next up is either Iron and Wine at Hope or Eric Bibb at the Ladies Lit.

I am knitting a beeyouteefull scarf. I don't know who it is for and I don't care. I love the yarn and it's a pretty color.

Sunday we're going to have brunch at the GR Art Museum, hit up Vertigo, and then go to Founders. It will probably be the highlight of my week.

I think I need to get out of town for a weekend. Maybe someplace south...but not too south....

Suggestions are welcome.