Countdown!!!

I can barely contain myself.

Only two days until my BFFs come to visit: my mom, Moomksers; my little sis, Larnie; and my absolutely edible 11-month old nephew, The Fin!!!

When The Fin was two months old, I started making his first birthday present, a knitted baby blanket. Weeks and weeks and months of knitting later, however, you may recall that Harry decided to EAT THE FIN'S FREAKIN' FIRST BIRTHDAY PRESENT!!!!

So I spent an hour this weekend at the Lamp Shoppe,  desperately seeking professional knitter help in resurrecting the dead blanket, seeking to turn it into a somewhat respectable, anorexic baby scarf that I could deliver to The Fin upon his arrival in two days.  An adorable young woman who worked there salvaged the hundreds of hanging stitches that were covered in dog saliva.  She said that "all" I had to do was "purl" six rows of 150 stitches and then "bind off" in the purl stitch 150 stitches to make the dead baby blanket into a vibrant, breathing, skinny-ass baby scarf.

So here is The Zadge is at 6:30 p.m. tonight, starting to "just" purl the freakin' billion stitches just to add a mere half inch to a pathetic swath of yarn to make it remotely resemble a piece of clothing:


Yes, we drink while knitting. How the hell else could we keep "just" purling thousands and thousands of damn stitches, one after another?

We also watch the CMA Music Festival, while we drink and knit. "CMA," for you city folk, is the Country Music Awards. The Zadge luuuvvs her country music. Oh yes she does. Even when her main man Keith Urban isn't playing. But Sugarland is:


Now that Country is cool, The Zadge secretly changes her goal in life from "rock star" to "country star."

And Tulip is such a cliche - once the yarn comes out, she is suddenly all interested and part of the family.


Hours pass. Brad Paisley, Kid Rock and Kenny Chesney come and go on the stage. And Taylor Swift, over and over again. For the love of god, yes she's talented, but she's a freakin' goodie-two-shoes 18-year old!!WHERE IS KEITH?!

And there is purling, and purling, and more purling...to the point that The Zadge is actually now wishing that Harry had eaten the whole, entire freakin' baby blanket and left nothing to be saved!

Someone is apparently guilt-free about his savage attack on the little baby blanket.



Then, suddenly, The Zadge is done.

Done knitting. And purling. And "binding off." And there it is - a sweet, little pistachio green scarf.

Perfect for a little one-year old beautiful-beyond-words baby.

Who Am I?

One of the better things about getting, ahem, older is that you finally become comfortable in your own skin.  You more or less have accepted yourself, flaws and all (although that damn Gelatinous Muffin Top still bugs the shit out of you).  You know whether you are a morning bird or a night owl, a socialite or a homebody, a beach house or a mountain cabin.  City or country.  Or something in between.

Why, then, is The Zadge having an utter identity crisis about where to buy her new house?!  With the closing on the sale of the Little Yellow House just two weeks away, the hunt is on for a new place in Denver.  Normally, The Zadge is one of the most decisive people you will ever meet.  Which is why, when she first saw House #1 a few weeks ago on the internet, she thought it was meant to be hers:







I went and saw it today, in person. It's a lovely and elegant old house, with beautiful details, smack in the middle of the city.  It was built by the architect who designed the famous Brown Palace hotel in downtown Denver.  It's 2 blocks from Cheesman Park, a big park in the middle of a busy urban section of Denver.  URBAN - and not as in "Keith."  For my Washington, D.C. friends, think Dupont Circle.

I love House #1.  House #1 is like a sophisticated, elegant, city guy -- think Jude Law or Pierce Brosnan.

But the problem is that The Zadge has also fallen head over heels in love with House #2 too!  And it's the exact same price as House #1.

Can a girl be utterly in love with two totally different guys houses at the same time?

House #2 couldn't be more different than House #1.  It's not in the city, but rather just over the city line in a very nice quiet neighborhood just south of Denver.  For my D.C. friends, think Glen Echo.  The opposite of its urban competitor, it's on 1/3 of an acre -- I'd be considered landed gentry by the city folk!  It has a much more open contemporary feel than its elegantly-boned competition.  The owner of House # 2 is a professional chef and the house is a rambling one-story ranch-style house designed for entertaining:


Everything in the kitchen is top of the line:

And check out the "library" attached to the master bedroom:


House #2 is like Matthew McConaughey or Russell Crowe. [Ok, I anticipate the "OMG - McConaughey is disgusting" and the "Oh no he's not, girlfriend!"]  Less classical, more expansive, more par-tay.  (There's a hot tub on the deck, which The Zadge would respectfully request be removed should she buy House #2].

So here I am....45 years young...completely confident in the woman I have become.  But I can't decide who to sleep with which house to buy!!!!  Am I an urban sophisticate?  Or a slightly suburban entertainer?  Would it be better to spend every night with Jude or Russell?

Or do I keep looking.....

A Great Appetizer

As I was getting dinner ready tonight, the Boyz were playing in the yard. Well, that's not exactly true. The Shone was trying to get his weekend chill on, while Harry was trying his best to annoy the shit out of him.



What, me, Annoying?



I brought out the camera and thought I'd get some good shots of my Boyz.
Cute little devil:



Oh, and look!!! My second tomato of the season!!!



What a good appetizer it would make for dinner tonight! So I plucked it off its vine and placed it on the stoop while I took The Shone's portrait:



My baby!

Photo shoot complete - On to the yummy tomato!

Oh noooo!!! Stop you damn Spawn of the Devil!!!!!! That's MY appetizer!!!



Not anymore.



Apparently, it would have been quite tasty.



[Heavy sigh] Harry.

A Night of Music

Last night, Ms. Swiss Miss and I went to see Jackson Browne play Red Rocks. There is a reason Red Rocks is a world-famous amphitheatre for concerts - it is just AMAZING.

Here's our view while we were tailgating before the concert:



Ms. Swiss Miss getting her drink on:



Even in August, it gets cold up there in the altitude....The Zadge was not properly prepared, so Ms. Swiss Miss pulled out an extra jacket she had in her car. Unfortunately, there is about an 8 to 9 inch height difference between The Zadge and Ms. Swiss Miss.

See?



You have to climb literally hundreds and hundreds of stairs to get up to the amphitheatre. People were stopping along the way to catch their breath. (Not The Zadge!) But it is so worth it when you get to the top:



It's the most beautiful place I've ever been to for a concert.



And the beauty of a Jackson Browne concert is that The Zadge was one of the youngest people in attendance!!! It was filled with aging, gray-haired hippies!!



Jackson Browne, on the other hand, looks exactly the same as he did when I was in junior high listening to "Running on Empty." And he's 61 years old!



The Jackson Browne concert ended around 10:45 p.m. At that point, The Zadge was "running on empty" -- too late on a school night! But worth the sleepies the next morning!

Let's Start a Revolution!

You may recall an earlier post of mine where I bemoaned the return of my Gelatinous Muffin Top. Well, guess what?!

The Zadge's GMT is apparently all the rage!!

Check out this photo from Glamour of 20-year old model Lizzie Miller:



Don't you just love it?! Doesn't she look absolutely stunning and comfortable in her GMT?

Wouldn't it be great if society and the media embraced THAT as the modern ideal of a woman's body, instead of pressuring us all to believe we should be a size 4 with an utterly flat belly?

Can we start a mass transformation of women's body image across the country? Yes we can!!! All together now - grab your Gelatinous Muffin Tops and shout from the mountaintops with The Zadge, "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Update on the Dating Wars

Internet Dating Battle #437:
So our dogged, dating warrior receives this e-mail last week from a guy on Match.com:

You have eyes that smile, and it lights up your whole face! You have a happy appearance and I like that. I was motivated to say hello when I read your profile...[blah, blah, blah]...

It seems that you are classy, interesting, and beautiful in a natural way. You seem like a very real person with a lot going for her . My kind of gal! I think you have that rare quality of true natural beauty. To me, you look French or Swiss. No matter, true beautiful has no origin and is a rarity.

Ok, so it's a little over the top, but beggars can't be choosy, right?

I sent a nice reply thanking him for his e-mail and mentioned that his profile was "hidden" (so I could only see one photo and nothing else). He replied by attaching his whole profile (49 years old, 5'9", former professional bike racer, doesn't drink [uh oh]) and said that he kept it hidden because he suffers from MS and only wanted to disclose his disease to a smaller group than the whole dating universe.

Totally understandable, no? He then gave me some details about how the disease affects him and said if it was an issue for me, he totally understood.

So The Zadge replied enthusiastically and told him that the MS was not an issue. And, in the spirit of disclosure that he had started, I also told him that I was actually a half inch taller than the 5'9" in my profile, because Match doesn't give you the "half" option. Oh, and I added that I had cut my hair short 6 weeks ago - not like Sinead O'Connor, but more like Sharon Stone. And that it was cute.

And his reply? FREAKIN' SILENCE!! Zippo! Nuthin'!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? You disclose a debilitating illness, which I'm OK with, but I disclose that I'm a half inch taller than you say you are and my hair is 6 inches shorter than the photos, and you're not OK with that?! Mr. "I love natural beauty and real women" Guy?!

Well guess what, Shorty-Superficial-Man?

I love tall guys!! And guys who can split a bottle of wine with me! And guys who don't write stupid, sappy sheeat like "classy, interesting and beautiful in a natural way!" Oh, and what the hell looks freakin' French about a tall, blond, athletic American chick?

So the dating wars continue....Onward! To the next battle!

The Taste of Summer

Really, is there anything better than the first-picked homegrown tomato on a hot summer day?

Months ago, I planted two heirloom tomato plants. (In pots. Remember, The Damn House That Wouldn't Sell originally was supposed to be The Little Yellow House That Sold in a Nanosecond, so I wanted them to be moveable. Hah! Little did I know that I could have planted and harvested a 20-acre garden before it was time to move!)

I watched and waited for weeks. Watched the little green buds grow and waited for Harry to eat each and every one of them off the vine as soon as they turned red, just like he did last summer. But is our little devil growing up? Other than a few curious sniffs, Harry left them alone this year!

So today, I picked the first one.



It looks cute, doesn't it?

But wait.

Look at its "backside."



Baby Jesus of Bethlehem, is that an ugly-ass tomato or what? Is it some sort of failed Siamese twin tomato thing? Or a tomato with a tumor?

Despite its less than supermodel looks, my god, did that thing taste good! I sliced off its, uh, ungainly appendage, then sliced it up along with some fresh mozzarella and basil. Drizzled it with some olive oil and sprinkled it with sea salt.



Heaven on earth. I will be dreaming about this in January.

Say "cheese"

Poor Ms. Swiss Miss.

When your partner-in-crime is an obsessive-newbie-blogger who brings her camera everywhere, you are constantly subject to being photographed. Ms. Swiss Miss has mentioned that she now feels the pressure to make sure she has her hair and makeup done.

But no need - how cute is she?!



The other night, Ms. Swiss Miss and The Zadge took their two-wheeled friends, Gladys and Sally, out for a night on the town. So fun to tool around town on bikes instead of a cement-crusted SUV!



We went to India's Pearl, a great neighborhood restaurant.



The Zadge is not much of a beer drinker, but couldn't resist the name of the beer "Laughing Lab," so that's what she ordered to start off the meal.



It didn't look like beer to The Zadge - more like thick, red wine with an orange wedge, which was OK with The Zadge. Kind of a beer-sangria-wine menage-a-trois-thing going on.

Keeping with the dog theme, Ms. Swiss Miss, a much more advanced beer connoisseur than The Zadge, ordered the Dogfish 90 Minute Pale Ale.



Beer and Indian food go together well - the beer cools off the heat from the food, like the delicious Vegetable Samosa Chaat:



...and our main course, yummy Chicken Tikka Masala:



I hope you're not hungry if you come out to eat with The Zadge - I make you refrain from digging in until I've shot the perfect photo. Maybe that's why Ms. Swiss Miss is so thin.

After dinner, we hop on Gladys and Sally and head out to the neighborhood nightspot. There's a brief glitch when Sally loses her chain in the middle of traffic. But somehow the Laughing Lab beer has emboldened The Zadge to believe she is a bike mechanic, and soon, we are all back on track rolling away to the bar.

Time for the hard stuff:



Here's the thing about bringing a camera everywhere you go: it's a conversation starter. "Nice camera" or "Are you a photographer?" or "What's the occasion?"

Without the camera, Ms. Swiss Miss and I would have just leaned against the bar for an hour or two, sipping our Cosmos, checking out people without ever talking to anyone.

Instead, thanks to my trusty Nikon, we meet some adorable guys ... with accents nonetheless!



Brit on the left and New Zealander on the right!

And it's funny, after a couple of drinks, everyone wants their picture taken!!!



So as we pedaled home with Gladys and Sally, I told Ms. Swiss Miss that I thought my camera was the best partner-in-crime we could have.

Reluctantly, she agreed and resigned herself to a future of constant smiles for the camera.

Friday Flowers

A couple of days ago, I was returning from my morning walk with The Shone and Harry when I noticed that my empty planters on the front porch were suddenly filled with yellow flowers. The flowers weren't extravagant. They were simple, cute little flowers.

I didn't plant them.

Who then?


I assumed it was Ms. Swiss Miss - she's sweet that way and knew that I had been depressed until The Little Yellow House went under contract. But she said that she wasn't the mystery flower planter.



Then when I was driving home today, I saw my next door neighbor checking on the flowers. And it hit me - he must have planted them. He's a maintenance worker for the city, lives alone and works on his cars in his spare time. He's been a great neighbor - shoveled my walk when it snowed, helped me move furniture, and got rid of the squirrel that was camped out in my bedroom a few months ago. (Of course I had a squirrel in the bedroom!!! Do you know anyone else who has had a squirrel in her bedroom?!)

I saw him in his yard and asked him if he had planted the flowers. He sort of sheepishly said "yes" and said, "Oh, I had these flowers in little pots so I thought I'd give some to you."

How freakin' sweet?!!!

It made my day. And I thought, what if everyone just did some anonymous "good act" for another person once a week? Do you think it would change the world?

I think it could....I think I will....

Simple Chef

The premier of Bravo TV's Top Chef season six aired tonight. I love, love this show. The Zadge loves to cook and this show totally inspires me.

I also have a huge crush on Tom Colicchio, the famous restaurateur and host of the show.



He's the first short, bald, slightly chubby man that I have loved. Mind you, he's not in the league of my Keith Urban and Daniel Craig crushes -- who could be? But I find him incredibly masculine and confident, traits I love. Plus, the man can cook!!!

So this was one of the dishes a competitor made tonight:

Poached Halibut in a Whiskey, Bourbon and Scotch Sauce

So I thought, "Oh, that looks good, healthy and fairly simple to make." Just poach some fish, whip up a sauce and saute some mushrooms, right?

Au contraire, Mon fraire!

I hunted down the recipe. Just glance through it quickly:

Ingredients

• 12 ounces east coast halibut, filleted & portioned into 3-ounces pieces

Halibut Poaching Liquid

• 1/4 cup vermouth
• 2 cups fresh orange juice (reserve splash for endive)
• Salt, pepper, espellate
• Flour

Endive

• 2 endives
• Approx 1 pound 83%-fat butter
• 1/4 cup sugar

Mushrooms

• 1 head mitake mushroom
• 1 pack enoki mushroom
• 2 sprigs fresh tarragon (reserve some for garnish)
• 1/4 cup fresh cracked peppercorn

Shrimp Stock

• 3 pounds whole shrimp
• 1 rib celery
• 1/4 carrot
• 2 shallots
• Tomato paste

Bourbon and Scotch Sauce

• 1 whole lobster
• 1 head garlic
• 1 cup whiskey
• 1 cup brandy
• 1 cup scotch
• 1 cup of citron vinegar
• 1/4 cup veal jus

Directions

Halibut Poaching Liquid

1. Bring 8 cups of water up to a boil. Add vermouth, orange juice, salt, pepper, and enough flour just to thicken.

2. Cook out flour. Strain through chinois and reserve.

Endive

1. Punch circle out of just the whites of the endive pieces.

2. Heat together water, butter, sugar, splash of orange juice, salt, and pepper. Caramelize endive circles. Reserve.

Mushrooms

1. Sauté mitakes with butter, salt, pepper, and tarragon. Reserve.

2. Sauté and lightly caramelize enoki with butter, salt, pepper, and tarragon. Reserve.

Shrimp Stock

1. In a large pot, hard sear shrimp with carrot, shallot, and celery. Season with salt, pepper, and espelette.

2. Coat mixture with tomato paste and cook out.

3. Cover with just enough water to cover and simmer.

4. Strain through chinois.

Bourbon and Scotch Sauce

1. Clean lobster and remove meat from shell. Reserve.

2. Sweat lobster shells in canola and butter with black pepper, garlic, and shallots.

3. Deglaze with all of the liquor. Cook out alcohol.

4. Add shrimp stock and veal jus and reduce to desired consistency.

5. Season and reserve.

To Serve

1. Cook fish in poaching liquid to desired doneness.

2. Finish sauce with reduced liquor and add crushed black pepper.

3. Arrange endive in a line on the plate.

4. Lightly place mushrooms on top of endive.

5. Off-set fish pieces next to mushrooms.

6. Garnish with tarragon. Sauce.

© 2009 Jennifer Carroll

Are you freakin' kidding me?!

First of all, The Zadge is fairly well read and THERE ARE WORDS IN THIS RECIPE THAT SHE HAS NEVER SEEN BEFORE!!!! Espellate? Chinois? Mitake?

And I'm supposed to buy a freakin' whole lobster and use it just to make a sauce?! And then make it "sweat"?!

Oh, and I just happen to have some "veal jus" lying around my kitchen? And how about that "citron vinegar" we all use on a daily basis?

And then the kicker - I'm supposed to waste THREE FREAKIN' CUPS OF TOP SHELF BOOZE just to have it evaporate in the pan?! Are you high?

Thanks but no thanks. Instead, I think I'll just poach some halibut in chicken broth, saute some button mushrooms and spinach in olive oil, drizzle it all with a bit of melted butter and sea salt and then pour myself some booze that I can actually drink, instead of evaporate in a pan.

Bon appetit!

Exhaling

The Damn House that Won't Sell is under contract!!!!

Baby Jesus of Bethlehem, finally!!!! Four and a half freakin' months without a peep and then, suddenly, two - TWO- offers pop up yesterday and a bidding war ensues!!!! It's not final until the closing but I think -- I hope -- that I can now safely blog without fear of the Evil Jinx!



Despite my previous rants that would suggest otherwise, I love, love The Little Yellow House. Yes, that's it's real name. It actually had it's own following in D.C. - lots of good times were had in The Little Yellow House.



I'm going to miss it. I'm going to miss my rose garden.



And my custom-made screen door with the Labrador silhouette. I painted it green.



And The Shone will miss his front porch, where he was always chillin', just saying hi to all his fans in the 'hood.



But I won't miss the gawd-awful stress of carrying a mortgage for a house 2000 miles away and my rent in Denver. Or the complete lack of beauty-upkeep for the past 4 months, due to lack of funds (other than the hair, of course). You do not want to see what The Zadge's fingers and toes look like right now.

See, I rented out The Little Yellow House when I picked up my whole life and moved 2000 miles away, knowing only two people in the entire state of Colorado. I figured if the move was some crazy midlife crisis, and I came to my senses, I better not sell The Little Yellow House, 'cuz I sure as hell couldn't afford to buy one again with the housing prices what they are in D.C.

And then, I did come to my senses...and my sanity...and my sense of calm....and my sense of adventure. Despite knowing no one in Colorado, I felt at home. Immediately. And now I get to shop for my new home in Denver....The Little Wild West Homestead!!! Where I hope to be lucky enough to have half of the good times and memories that The Little Yellow House has given me over the past 11 years!!

Jinx

In utter fear of The Evil Jinx, I cannot post tonight....just please, please keep your fingers crossed!!!!

I guess Harry isn't an Art Lover

Doesn't he look like a good boy? A fun hiking partner? You know what's coming, don't you?

So Harry, also known as the Spawn of the Devil, and I head out on a beautiful Sunday to hike Red Rocks. There are lots of good trails climbing among the cool, prehistoric rock formations.



You can just imagine the dinasaurs roaming around a few gazillion years ago.





At the top of our climb, we hit the "Trading Post" center of Red Rocks. Harry finds an abandoned fountain, into which, as we can all guess, he promptly jumps.



That was fine, until I tried to get him out. With about 15 tourists from the Trading Post watching in amusement (and taking photos), I try for about 10 minutes to beat Harry at his favorite game, "Catch Me If You Can."

Humiliating.....

After I finally snag his devil-ass, we hike back to the car and head off to nearby Golden to go to an Arts Festival. That was the destination all along, but I knew I had to wear him out by hiking for two hours before I could bring him to a heavily populated place. I figured after that, there would be no Harry Dramas.

Yeah, right.



Golden is this cute, western town right outside of Denver. Famous for being the home of the Coors Brewery, it was hosting an Arts Festival this weekend, showcasing artists, photographers, and craftsmen, along with live bands and fried food and beer. Harry and I sat down with a cold draft after our hike (ok, just one of us had the cold draft) to listen to this band.



This girl had her eye on Harry, but he thought she looked too high maintenance.



Harry was sitting quietly watching the music....and then.... it began...



I had noticed that he had started to get antsy, which I thought was weird because he should have been wiped out from the hike. I chalked it up to the unrelenting gaze of the dog with the head-banger hairdo, who was clearly digging Harry's devil-ass. I turned for a second to make an adjustment to my camera, and suddenly he was gone! All I saw was a yellow tail running through the crowd and down a hill.

Turns out, there was a freakin' river down that hill!! And Harry the Devil could smell it! I took off running after him, trying to hold on to my backpack, my camera and not spill my beer!! (Others would have just ditched the beer - not The Zadge!) I heard a guy yell, "Hey, grab that dog!! Grab his leash!" Once again, the town pitches in to catch Harry!

Just as Harry got to the top of the riverbank about to do his world-famous belly flop -- with a current flowing FAST -- this Good Samaritan grabbed his leash and stopped him from swimming to Utah.

With a french fry.

Seriously.



Ultimately, my goal to wear out Harry's devil-ass was reached: the minute we got home.



So much for a weekend without Harry Drama.