You know those parental control thingies you can put on TV’s to prevent children from watching shows that might possibly pollute their little minds and warp them forever? I think there should be something similar so wives could lock out husbands from the Food Network.
Golfguy periodically comes up with some recipe that he’s seen some food guru prepare and thinks looks good and like something we should try. Nothing wrong with trying new recipes; I’m all for discovering something new and good. The problem is these cooking shows have UNLIMITED budgets and most of these recipes contain at least 1 or 2 unusual, exotic, and expensive ingredients that no normal pantry EVER regularly stocks.
Golfguy’s latest find resulted in 4 items on yesterday’s list that are not part of our usual buy-list. Do you have any idea how much fresh thyme costs? Or any fresh herb, for that matter? The few little sprigs of whatever couldn’t be more than 20 or 30 cents; the expense must all be in the plastic coffins enclosing them. I probably can use up the remainder of the peach preserves on morning toast, and GolfGuy can probably use the Dijon mustard, but I’m not sure about the molasses. And we haven’t even gotten to the meat part of this recipe yet.
But the real kicker is that the vast majority of these recipes, once assembled and prepared, generally rate at least one “Blech!” Very few are ever keepers.
Showing posts with label GolfGuy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label GolfGuy. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Gettin' Back in the Groove
Things are starting to settle down into the same old, same old again. Mamie, Igor, Brendin and Pi are back safe and sound from their big road trip. Sounds like they had a great time in Garden City - lots of family, food, and fun. Mamie is off today for 3 days of conferences in the town just an hour to the north. On Thursday, she and a friend will spend the night there so they can go to one of the Shakespeare festival plays being presented there.
GolfGuy is back to playing golf - his elbow has healed up again. The last 2 days of his big road trip, he was not able to play because his elbow had flared up and was really hurting. He's just playing 9 holes at a time now, not 18, to keep down the wear and tear.
Pudge seems to be overcoming her bout of "stones". Her pee clumps in the litter box are close to normal, and she's not going to the box a zillion times a day and straining to no effect. I'm not sure the water fountain is a big hit, but both cats seem to have accepted it. The change in food is going fine; they are eating the REALLY smelly canned food well, especially Snickers, and eating the dry food as well. Pudge is bouncing around again - all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
The baby quail were back yesterday around noon time. Several hours later, they were back - only this time so were the 1st batch of baby quail that I saw a month or two ago. Now this first batch are "juveniles" and look huge in comparison to the little ones. Baby quail dad did not like having the other quail family around his babies and shooed them off to one side of the yard before herding his family to the other side. Guess there won't be any play dates in their futures.
Fourth of July was pretty quiet around here - no parades, no bar-b-ques, no fireworks for us. I spent a good part of the day turning pounds of Costco hamburger into meatloaf and hb patties to stash in the freezer - boring and lots of work. I did watch "A Capital Fourth" from Washington, D.C., on tv that evening. Some of the music was good and some not so good - the best was when just the orchestra played as the Sesame Street characters and the blond bimbo singer in the skin-tight gold dress didn't do much for me. The fireworks were OK; the fireworks from NYC were better, but by then I was pretty much falling asleep anyway so gave it up and turned the tv off. Watching fireworks on tv just isn't the same as sitting in a lawn chair at the ballfield with several hundred other people and kids running around all over the place, hearing the boom and feeling the thump as the sky explodes with light and sparkles and a collective sigh and gasp from the crowd goes up. Just not the same.
I'm headed off to Silver Sneakers later this morning. After playing hooky for a week and a half, I forced myself to go on Monday because if I didn't, I knew I might never go back. Our instructor had surgery 2 weeks ago and will be out for another 3 or 4. Unfortunately, the sub isn't "TOO tall, too...", and I don't much like her.
GolfGuy is back to playing golf - his elbow has healed up again. The last 2 days of his big road trip, he was not able to play because his elbow had flared up and was really hurting. He's just playing 9 holes at a time now, not 18, to keep down the wear and tear.
Pudge seems to be overcoming her bout of "stones". Her pee clumps in the litter box are close to normal, and she's not going to the box a zillion times a day and straining to no effect. I'm not sure the water fountain is a big hit, but both cats seem to have accepted it. The change in food is going fine; they are eating the REALLY smelly canned food well, especially Snickers, and eating the dry food as well. Pudge is bouncing around again - all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
The baby quail were back yesterday around noon time. Several hours later, they were back - only this time so were the 1st batch of baby quail that I saw a month or two ago. Now this first batch are "juveniles" and look huge in comparison to the little ones. Baby quail dad did not like having the other quail family around his babies and shooed them off to one side of the yard before herding his family to the other side. Guess there won't be any play dates in their futures.
Fourth of July was pretty quiet around here - no parades, no bar-b-ques, no fireworks for us. I spent a good part of the day turning pounds of Costco hamburger into meatloaf and hb patties to stash in the freezer - boring and lots of work. I did watch "A Capital Fourth" from Washington, D.C., on tv that evening. Some of the music was good and some not so good - the best was when just the orchestra played as the Sesame Street characters and the blond bimbo singer in the skin-tight gold dress didn't do much for me. The fireworks were OK; the fireworks from NYC were better, but by then I was pretty much falling asleep anyway so gave it up and turned the tv off. Watching fireworks on tv just isn't the same as sitting in a lawn chair at the ballfield with several hundred other people and kids running around all over the place, hearing the boom and feeling the thump as the sky explodes with light and sparkles and a collective sigh and gasp from the crowd goes up. Just not the same.
I'm headed off to Silver Sneakers later this morning. After playing hooky for a week and a half, I forced myself to go on Monday because if I didn't, I knew I might never go back. Our instructor had surgery 2 weeks ago and will be out for another 3 or 4. Unfortunately, the sub isn't "TOO tall, too...", and I don't much like her.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Return of the Shopping Cart
Last Thursday, before the unfortunate restaurant karma experience, GolfGuy and I did our weekly Walmart shopping. As we were unloading our shopping cart into the car, I noticed a young woman several cars down from us unloading her cart. I mentioned some time ago that the cart returns at new Walmart are few and far between, so I thought I would do a good deed and offer to return her cart as I was returning ours. Because she had a young child with her, I thought it would be helpful for me to take her cart also.
As I approached her, she spoke up and said “I’ll take your cart back for you.” I explained that I was about to offer to do the same thing for her; and she replied, “Oh, my 5 year old will do it. He loves doing it!”
I told GolfGuy about the exchange when I got in the car; and as we were leaving, he pulled up next to her, rolled down the window and told her, “I was going to have my 66 year old return the cart, but your 5 year old did it instead! Thanks.”
Friday, April 3, 2009
Restaurant Karma
GolfGuy and I just do not have good restaurant karma. Seems like we always find the worst places to eat, have the worst meals, and get the worst service. I don’t understand it – we’re basically nice people, look presentable, and usually tip more than the minimum.
Anyway, yesterday GolfGuy needed to go to the Village center to get some thingie for his new computer and he suggested that I go along and then we could go to the new Chinese buffet in town. You know me, always up for NOT fixing lunch at home.
Of course, it was NOT a good restaurant experience. The food was tasteless and the various chunks of chicken were tough – the so-called teriyaki chicken should have been labeled “old shoe leather.” The sweet and sour chicken came with a gelatinous red goo that oozed over everything on the plate and crept up my fork to spread onto my hand. The list of horrors continues – but the absolute worst part was that NOTHING on the steam tables approached being warm! Hello trouble!
Today GolfGuy is doing poorly – with all the classic symptoms of food poisoning. We had basically the same things – except he had noodles rather than rice and some beef stuff AND sushi, #1 candidate for culprit of the day.
Usually in instances like this, I react quickly and violently to the slightest hint of food being “off.” So far I seem to be okay, which is a good thing as the family birthday dinner for Mamie is scheduled for this evening. Hopefully GolfGuy will be sufficiently recovered so that he can man the grill, even if he can’t eat or join in the festivities such as they are.
Anyway, yesterday GolfGuy needed to go to the Village center to get some thingie for his new computer and he suggested that I go along and then we could go to the new Chinese buffet in town. You know me, always up for NOT fixing lunch at home.
Of course, it was NOT a good restaurant experience. The food was tasteless and the various chunks of chicken were tough – the so-called teriyaki chicken should have been labeled “old shoe leather.” The sweet and sour chicken came with a gelatinous red goo that oozed over everything on the plate and crept up my fork to spread onto my hand. The list of horrors continues – but the absolute worst part was that NOTHING on the steam tables approached being warm! Hello trouble!
Today GolfGuy is doing poorly – with all the classic symptoms of food poisoning. We had basically the same things – except he had noodles rather than rice and some beef stuff AND sushi, #1 candidate for culprit of the day.
Usually in instances like this, I react quickly and violently to the slightest hint of food being “off.” So far I seem to be okay, which is a good thing as the family birthday dinner for Mamie is scheduled for this evening. Hopefully GolfGuy will be sufficiently recovered so that he can man the grill, even if he can’t eat or join in the festivities such as they are.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
GolfGuy
GolfGuy LOVES golf. Duh! He eats, breathes, and sleeps golf. Not only does he recount in detail his rounds of golf to me, I am treated to re-hashes of the many golf matches he watches on TV. One of the reasons we have 2 DVR’s is the conflicts we were having over who got to record what, when – I honestly felt my SVU and Bones re-runs had priority over obscure golf tournaments. He begged to differ – thus 2 DVR’s to serve the 4 TV’s.
Prior to retirement, he entertained visions of the 2 of us merrily making the rounds of golf courses across the country. To that end, he persuaded me to take some golf lessons. Frankly, I hated it. Not only did I have problems getting all the body parts to play nicely together, the thick fog of testosterone swirling around the golf environment raised my hackles. More importantly, I knew that I lacked the commitment to the game that would be required in order to become even marginally competent at it – necessary for even the lowest level of enjoyment.
The notion of happy, harmonious couple-golf went by the wayside after several joint ventures. I realized that if we continued to try this endeavor I would be forced to inflict serious bodily injury on poor GolfGuy by the 8th or 9th hole, minimum. He really tried to NOT tell me what to do or how to do it; but he just couldn’t help himself, I was so bad and he so wanted me to be good. Case in point –a few years ago, we were staying at an RV park that had a “putting” course for guests. Needing to get out of the confines of the tin-can for a bit and it being a nice evening, I thought a companionable stroll around the putting course would be a good way to spend some time. Wrong. He just couldn’t resist trying to tell me how to line up my putts or how hard to hit the ball. It was a COW PASTURE , for god’s sake. How much technique could you use? Just aim in the general direction, whack the snot out of the ball, and hope for the best. If this was what a REAL round of golf together would be like, count me out.
One of the deciding factors for settling in the Village (other than the proximity of the family) was the abundance of golf courses in the area. GolfGuy was a happy man – 3 or 4 rounds a week at reasonable prices. I was a happy woman – no lunch duty 3 or 4 times a week. Life was good.
But as happens in life, things started to fall apart. In the last 6-9 months, GolfGuy’s playing has been severely hampered by a series of physical issues. First it was calcium deposits on his heels – some physical therapy and the purchase of orthotic devices for his shoes helped ease that problem. Then his right elbow begin bothering him, eventually to the point of causing extreme pain every time he swung a driver or a fairway club – he could still chip and putt without much pain, but the course marshals would really be on his case for slow play if he tried to chip and putt his way around the course. Physical therapy and cortisone shots did not take care of the pain, so surgery was done to scrape the bone spurs off his elbow. Recovery is proceeding slowly – once a week or so he goes over to the course and hits balls, and he’s up to 6 or 7 before he has to stop.
It has been 4 or 5 months since he’s been on the course for a round. He misses golf and the friends he was developing at the courses and his “me time”. It has been rough for both of us for him to be basically confined to the house and my sometimes cranky company. But we’ll get through this; and if the other health issues that have cropped up recently keep him out of golf action, we’ll just have to come up with some other outlet for him.
Prior to retirement, he entertained visions of the 2 of us merrily making the rounds of golf courses across the country. To that end, he persuaded me to take some golf lessons. Frankly, I hated it. Not only did I have problems getting all the body parts to play nicely together, the thick fog of testosterone swirling around the golf environment raised my hackles. More importantly, I knew that I lacked the commitment to the game that would be required in order to become even marginally competent at it – necessary for even the lowest level of enjoyment.
The notion of happy, harmonious couple-golf went by the wayside after several joint ventures. I realized that if we continued to try this endeavor I would be forced to inflict serious bodily injury on poor GolfGuy by the 8th or 9th hole, minimum. He really tried to NOT tell me what to do or how to do it; but he just couldn’t help himself, I was so bad and he so wanted me to be good. Case in point –a few years ago, we were staying at an RV park that had a “putting” course for guests. Needing to get out of the confines of the tin-can for a bit and it being a nice evening, I thought a companionable stroll around the putting course would be a good way to spend some time. Wrong. He just couldn’t resist trying to tell me how to line up my putts or how hard to hit the ball. It was a COW PASTURE , for god’s sake. How much technique could you use? Just aim in the general direction, whack the snot out of the ball, and hope for the best. If this was what a REAL round of golf together would be like, count me out.
One of the deciding factors for settling in the Village (other than the proximity of the family) was the abundance of golf courses in the area. GolfGuy was a happy man – 3 or 4 rounds a week at reasonable prices. I was a happy woman – no lunch duty 3 or 4 times a week. Life was good.
But as happens in life, things started to fall apart. In the last 6-9 months, GolfGuy’s playing has been severely hampered by a series of physical issues. First it was calcium deposits on his heels – some physical therapy and the purchase of orthotic devices for his shoes helped ease that problem. Then his right elbow begin bothering him, eventually to the point of causing extreme pain every time he swung a driver or a fairway club – he could still chip and putt without much pain, but the course marshals would really be on his case for slow play if he tried to chip and putt his way around the course. Physical therapy and cortisone shots did not take care of the pain, so surgery was done to scrape the bone spurs off his elbow. Recovery is proceeding slowly – once a week or so he goes over to the course and hits balls, and he’s up to 6 or 7 before he has to stop.
It has been 4 or 5 months since he’s been on the course for a round. He misses golf and the friends he was developing at the courses and his “me time”. It has been rough for both of us for him to be basically confined to the house and my sometimes cranky company. But we’ll get through this; and if the other health issues that have cropped up recently keep him out of golf action, we’ll just have to come up with some other outlet for him.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Grocery Shopping
For over 30 years I managed to do the grocery shopping for this family (and for 14 years in our first family life) – and mostly ALL BY MYSELF. Sometimes I did have to drag children with me, but that was mostly disastrous, so I tried to avoid it at all costs. When Mamie and Igor were in the obnoxious pre- and teen years, I would gather my list, coupons, purse and keys and announce, “I am going to the store. I’ll be back shortly.” Their standard response was, “Well, you sure won’t be back TALL-Y” heh-heh-heh. Yes, it’s true I am a squatty Wombat; but it was the snottily gleeful tone of voice from my loving children that really made smoke come out of my ears. And by the way, that word “squatty” is a top contender for #1 on my list of ugly words. Hmm….an idea for a Ten Things Tuesday list. Anyway, nobody seriously starved or went without as a result of my solo shopping.
The point of all this is that now that GolfGuy is accompanying me, I suddenly do not seem to know what I am doing. (Did I suffer some sort of brain cramp nobody told me about?) My choices are constantly second guessed. And unplanned items keep mysteriously jumping into the shopping cart – he’s worse than the kids ever were about that; and it encourages ME to toss in impulse items. I seem to be lacking some self-restraint here.
We generally go through the self-check line. No matter how hard I try to keep things sorted as to what goes in the pantry, the refrigerator/freezer, the laundry room, or back to the bathroom, he tosses items into bags willy-nilly. ALL the canned goods into the same bags; ditto all other heavy objects – no weight balancing for him! During the months of medical treatment when my participation in the shopping activity was limited to leaning on the cart as I shuffled thru the store, indicating which items to grab, GolfGuy did the scanning, bagging, car loading and toting into the house. A practice that continues to this day (I’m not totally stupid – those tasks are WORK). Once the bags are actually in the house, I do sort things out and put them away – otherwise we would NEVER find anything.
I see other couples in the store – wandering closely together, sometimes holding hands, seemingly in harmony on what they’re doing. Meanwhile, we seem to be engaged in a titanic test of wills. Could it be that we are both control freaks and actually deserve each other?
In fairness, I am just as big a pain in the butt when I accompany GolfGuy to a home improvement or electronics store. I can gaze at bins of sprinkler fittings or piles of some electronic thingie for only so long before my eyes glaze over and start to roll back in my head and I go into whiney toddler mode.
The point of all this is that now that GolfGuy is accompanying me, I suddenly do not seem to know what I am doing. (Did I suffer some sort of brain cramp nobody told me about?) My choices are constantly second guessed. And unplanned items keep mysteriously jumping into the shopping cart – he’s worse than the kids ever were about that; and it encourages ME to toss in impulse items. I seem to be lacking some self-restraint here.
We generally go through the self-check line. No matter how hard I try to keep things sorted as to what goes in the pantry, the refrigerator/freezer, the laundry room, or back to the bathroom, he tosses items into bags willy-nilly. ALL the canned goods into the same bags; ditto all other heavy objects – no weight balancing for him! During the months of medical treatment when my participation in the shopping activity was limited to leaning on the cart as I shuffled thru the store, indicating which items to grab, GolfGuy did the scanning, bagging, car loading and toting into the house. A practice that continues to this day (I’m not totally stupid – those tasks are WORK). Once the bags are actually in the house, I do sort things out and put them away – otherwise we would NEVER find anything.
I see other couples in the store – wandering closely together, sometimes holding hands, seemingly in harmony on what they’re doing. Meanwhile, we seem to be engaged in a titanic test of wills. Could it be that we are both control freaks and actually deserve each other?
In fairness, I am just as big a pain in the butt when I accompany GolfGuy to a home improvement or electronics store. I can gaze at bins of sprinkler fittings or piles of some electronic thingie for only so long before my eyes glaze over and start to roll back in my head and I go into whiney toddler mode.
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