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Archive for November, 2010

My boyfriend H is a very generous and giving person.  He is the ultimate volunteer, he likes to donate stuff (time, money, goods, services), he is overall a very civic-minded fellow.  Which is great!

Except when November rolls around.

You see, recently a black cloud has settled over my Novembers, and it’s not just Autumn rolling in with a vengeance.  Oh no.  This is a cloud of a different variety.  A hairier variety, if you will.

Movember is a charity event held every November to raise money for Men’s Cancer.  Sounds innocent enough, right?  WRONG.  Do you know what the MO stands for in Movember?  Do you?  I’ll give you 5 seconds to think.

Did you figure it out?  No?

MUSTACHES.

That’s right.  Some evil genius decided that to participate in Movember (which is a great charity for a great cause, don’t get me wrong) you must grow a mustache.  On your face.  For four. Entire. Weeks.

Let’s do the math, shall we?  Charity-friendly boyfriend + his uncanny ability to sprout facial hair + worldwide event in which you can showcase your manliness and throw the occasional party ‘for a good cause’ + excuse to embarrass and anger his girlfriend (always fun) = H’s participation in Movember.

That’s right.  H is, as we speak, the proud and gleeful owner of a disgusting and disturbing mustache.  Made of hair. On his face.  A real one.

This is not the first time that H has terrorized me with facial hair.  Over the years I have been forced to deal with various iterations of his scruff, including the full beard, the long, scraggly goatee, the full beard WITH the long scraggly goatee integrated into it, the isolated chin scruff, the long sideburns, and of course, my personal nightmare, the classic kiddie-toucher mustache. With the advent of Movember, however, he now has an excuse that I have no argument against.  Oh, you hate my facial hair, Mary?  GUESS YOU LOVE CANCER THEN.

I cannot impress upon you guys enough how enraged The Mustache makes me.  Whenever I see him my thought process goes something like this:

1. HAY!  BOYFRAND!

2. So tall! Such nice blue eyes!

3. BLEEEEEEARRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH STACHE. WHY. WHY GOD.   IT IS SO SO SOOOOO UGLY.  IT IS STILL THERE.  IT IS RUINING EVERYTHING. PEOPLE ARE STARING.

I’m not exaggerating.  In the least.  I become positively apoplectic.  I glare at it.  Not him, it. The Mustache.

I don’t know why it makes me so mad.  It just does. The Mustache holds a mystical and dangerous power over me.

But now, backed by the power of a cancer charity, there is no hope.  I’m condemned to suffer the eye-searing sight of MUSTACHE.  All up in my grill, taunting me, scratching my face, making me seethe, all the time.

November is a bleak month.  Bleak and angry.

Well, actually, scratch that.  H loves his mustache.  He is apparently blind to the fact that it makes him look a little bit like the principal in Ferris Bueller’s Day off (who, not at all coincidentally, has recently been arrested for kiddie porn charges and pedophilia.  Not kidding).  He apparently enjoys the fact that, when out in public, people have to do a double take to ascertain whether or not his is an ironic mustache or a true, creep-star mustache.  I want to stick a button on him that states, in large font, I’M DOING THIS FOR CHARITY, NOT FOR REAL LIFE.  But to no one’s surprise, he refuses.

You can see it, don't lie.

I know there are people out there (my dad, H’s dad, and H, mostly) who will argue that mustaches look good.  And to them I say, no.  No they do not.  Not ironically, not seriously, not for charity, not even if you are a cop (DAD!).  They never.  Ever.  EVER.  Look good.

But they can be hilarious.  When they aren’t taking up space on my boyfriend’s face, that is.  And to that end, I would like to conclude this ragey post with some humorous pictures of crazy staches.  Let’s just hope this does not inspire H.  Because let’s be honest.  I will harm someone if this goes on.

The Competitive Stache

 

The Finger-Stache

The Your-Doing-It-Wrong Stache

 

the...well actually, I could be convinced with this one (stache)

 

 

The Hair Stache

 

 

The ironic stache

 

PS: Happy Thanksgiving!  Gobble gobble.

PPS: Thanks to B and S for unconsciously donating their stache pictures, (the two babes above).  Love you gals.

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Until Next Time, CSA

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been having a soup moment lately.  I think it’s because it has finally gotten to the point in the year where I am permanently and violently cold all. the. time.

Our CSA ended a few weeks ago (and it was a great first year!), but I had a few giant zucchini hiding in my crisper drawer that refused to go away.  Faced with some chilly temperatures and armed with a new toy (what uppp immersion blender!), I decided to get rid of those late-season behemoths, once and for all.

This is, like many of the recipes I put up, a template that can be changed and tweaked according to your tastes.  Hate curry?  That’s cool.  Add cayenne pepper, or cilantro, or basil. Making this in warm weather?  Jealous.  Make a gazpacho-y cold soup.   Whatever strikes your fancy, really.  I peeled the zukes because they were a little old.  Sometimes the skins can be bitter.  With fresher zucchini you can leave the skin on and your soup will be a nicer color.  Skin-free is still tasty though.

Zucchini Soup

You’ll Need:

  • 2 Medium Zucchini, skinned and chopped into small pieces
  • 3 gloves of garlic, minced
  • 1 small onion (white or red), minced
  • 1 handful of whatever greens you have (I used Swiss Chard and dandelion. Spinach would also be great)
  • 2 cups of Chicken Stock (or Veggie Stock)
  • Curry Powder
  • Chili Powder
  • Nutmeg
  • Salt & Pepper
  • Extra Virgin Olive Oil
  • Optional: approximately 1/2 cup Ricotta Cheese (or half & half, or milk, or cream)

To Do:

  • Coat the bottom of a large pot with EVOO.  On medium heat, add minced onion and garlic.  Make sure you don’t burn the garlic!
  • When onions are translucent, add your greens, stirring.
  • When greens are wilted, add your zucchini (and another drizzle of EVOO, if necessary)
  • Sprinkle veggie mixture with 1/2 tablespoon of curry (or more or less depending on how strong you want the curry flavor to be), a small dash of nutmeg,  a hefty pinch of chili powder (again, depending on how much heat you want), and liberal shakes of salt and pepper.
  • Saute veggies until Zucc is softened
  • Add chicken stock to pan (veggies should be just covered)
  • Simmer for approximately 15 minutes, until veggies are very soft.
  • With an immersion blender or in a food processor, blend until it turns into a chowdery, velvety, bisque-esque soup.
  • (Optional Step for the Fatties (aka me)) Add a few dollops of Ricotta (or a drizzle of milk/cream/any other dairy–even sour cream!)  Stir to dissolve.
  • Serve with crusty bread.

And thus ends my onslaught of CSA veggies!  It was a great experience though, and I’m already looking forward to next season.  If you’ve somehow resisted my yammering about CSA’s, take 5 minutes and look up one in your area on www.justfood.org/csa.  It will Change. Yo. Life.

 

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Unplugged

I never thought of myself as a person who HAD to have a TV.  I always considered it a welcome distraction at the most, a way to unplug my busy, generally anxious brain and just zone out.  It was nice to have, but was I one of those stereotypical obese zombie Americans who watched 500 hours of TV a week?  No.  I was proudly not.  It was just TV.  Same thing with the internet, especially now that I’m an office drone.  Do I really want look at a computer after staring at one for 8 hours straight? Um, no. HELLS no.  My eyes would literally remove themselves from their sockets and walk away in protest.

But you know that song that goes “…you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone?”  That has been my last 2 weeks, in a nutshell.  Except when the singer (I want to say it’s Joni Mitchell?) came up with those lyrics I’m sure she was thinking about true love or war or the environment or something actually important.  Not TV.  But whatever.

To those of you who are wondering where I’ve been since October 29th, well, I’ve been right here!  I’ve just been without a television or internet.  Mystery solved.  Don’t look so shocked. That was not a typo. In the two weeks that we have lived in our new (awesome) apartment, we have been sans technology of any kind.

The thing about moving is that even after the big stuff, the manual labor (not that I actually did any of that, but I did spectate and direct, which is equally taxing) and the packing and the actual transferring of entire lives from one place to another, there are still a hell of a lot of loose ends that need to be tied up.  Which is incredibly annoying, especially because you think finally, I’m moved!  All done! Lets start LIVING a fabulous new life in this fabulous new apartment!  LETS DECORATE!

Sorry, maybe that’s just me?  Maybe I’m just extraordinarily impatient?  Maybe I’m just inexperienced in the art of moving?  This was, after all, technically my first move. Maybe I’m just an amateur.

Irregardless.  Scraggly, irritating loose ends abound.  And sometimes these issues are out of your control, and no matter how much you want to make them go away and have things finally done, you can’t.  Enter TimeWarner Cable.

I won’t go into the gory details, because they are quite literally too obnoxiously bureaucratic and painfully frustrating to force anyone to read about them.  Suffice it to say that despite having taken all the correct steps, and despite having called and emailed and online chatted with TWC many, many times, when we finally had the keys in our hands on November 1st, there was no cable or internet to be had in our new home.

In the afterglow of having actually achieved moving (hooray!) with minimal drama, H and I were pretty OK with doing without cable & internet for a day or two.  We literally did not own a television at that point, so really, it was just something to sigh over and solider through.  We put on some tunes, opened a celebratory bottle of wine, and unpacked a little bit.  TV was, dare I say it, not even missed.

That was night #1.

It is now night #12.

Listen, I love H very much and we have good conversation and stuff and I very much enjoy just gazing at him weirdly at times, but sometimes you just want to come home, exchange pleasantries, and hunker down in front of the TV.  Sometimes (all the time) you want to watch the news when you get up in the morning and giggle at the kooky ways of master weatherman and entertainer, Sam Champion (GMA fo’EVER!).  Sometimes (rarely) you want to watch your boyfriend become utterly overjoyed and then suddenly, hilariously irate in the span of about 5 minutes as he watches football and monitors his fantasy team. Sometimes you want to lay in bed hungover all day and watch Netflix Instant Watch whilst drinking Gatorade through a straw.  Sometimes you want to YouTube funny videos to have a good laugh in the privacy of your own home.  Sometimes you want to download a song that you just heard before you forget it.   Sometimes you run out of books to read, and the library is closed.  Sometimes, when you’re all alone, having the TV on quietly in the background is almost sufficient company.  It sure as hell beats chit-chatting with inch-worm you find in your veggies, or the shoe-racks you’re putting together (yes, I did both in the last 2 weeks).

So before you tell me to read books or bake cookies or have meaningful conversation, before you tell me how refreshing life is without the shackles of technology retarding human relationships and how I should be relishing this quiet, contemplative time, I got it.  Thanks.  I did all that.  I read and I talked and I embraced the quiet (the quiet might have been the worst part).   And then that stuff was all done, and there was TV/Internet related stuff that I wanted to do and could not.  And that made me ragey.

Needles to say, it’s been a difficult two weeks. There is a light at the tunnel, however.  I found a nice new cable company that will give me Tivo and fast internet and not require my firstborn as payment.  H did some manly shopping and bought a new flat screen.  On Saturday, installation day, a glorious dawn will rise.  The dawn of technology.

Halle-freaking-lujah.

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