Today I woke barking like a seal, and being in food retail, I decided to save the good people of Corvallis from my sickness and stay home. Bleh.
I am forcing myself to not be productive....I suppose dishes, laundry, and catching up with deskwork can wait. Instead, I found myself on the laptop, making a folder of pictures to print for an eventual wedding album.
Growing up, I have fond memories of going to the album shelf, and pulling out the large, white album from my parent's wedding...ah, it was like science fiction, going back in time to a place where I didn't exist, yet the people seemed so eerily familiar. (And you have to admit, the fashions of a few decades ago were fabulous. Exactly like my own wedding will look to the next generation...I even used that trendy sage green color you'll be able to find someday in a Wikipedia article entitled "Fad Colors of 2012.") But really, I very much enjoyed leafing through the pages of my parent's album, seeing how the family looked back before I was born. Fascinating stuff.
Therefore, I must make an album, so my child can someday say "Mom! You really chose sage green?!"
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Two thoughts
1. The sun is out!
2. I love tiny kitchens.
For the sun-deprived winter Oregonian, the first needs no explanation.
The second thought, however, is something I've realized over the past few months. I made pad thai several nights ago, and for anyone familiar with the dish, it can be fairly messy to accomplish. Those fatal words in the recipe - "toss to combine" - get me every time. (A piece of chicken usually tries to fly behind the stove...or a stray piece of rice noodle makes its daring getaway toward the fridge.)
The pad thai was delicious, but the kitchen was in sad shape. Thai bits strewn across the stovetop, prep bowls, cutting boards, and utensils piled on the already-small countertop, and shards of peanut scattered willy-nilly across the floor.
Twenty minutes later, I emerged victorious - dishes handwashed, stovetop cleaned, counters wiped, floor swept & mopped. Amazing.
I love cleaning tiny spaces.
(of course, cooking in tiny spaces is another matter...but at least it's easy to clean up.)
2. I love tiny kitchens.
For the sun-deprived winter Oregonian, the first needs no explanation.
The second thought, however, is something I've realized over the past few months. I made pad thai several nights ago, and for anyone familiar with the dish, it can be fairly messy to accomplish. Those fatal words in the recipe - "toss to combine" - get me every time. (A piece of chicken usually tries to fly behind the stove...or a stray piece of rice noodle makes its daring getaway toward the fridge.)
The pad thai was delicious, but the kitchen was in sad shape. Thai bits strewn across the stovetop, prep bowls, cutting boards, and utensils piled on the already-small countertop, and shards of peanut scattered willy-nilly across the floor.
Twenty minutes later, I emerged victorious - dishes handwashed, stovetop cleaned, counters wiped, floor swept & mopped. Amazing.
I love cleaning tiny spaces.
(of course, cooking in tiny spaces is another matter...but at least it's easy to clean up.)
the results of the kitchen mess:
view from the balcony this morning:
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