Please point all links, moving forward, to my blog’s Official Domain:

http://www.saltinesandicecream.com

It just makes more sense, because I have more control over things with my own domain, and I had money sitting in my Dreamhost account…:)

I hope you keep reading!

~Ms. Crackers

Moving forward, please limit house guests to those that fit the following criteria:

1. are wanted as guests in this household, meaning that their presence is a positive thing.
2. are capable of behaving as fully-functioning adults.
3. are respectful of the fact that this is not their personal space and that they are guests in this household.

Barring any emergency visits that are authorized by yours truly, guests who are not willing or able to abide by the aforementioned rules shall be directed to alternative accomodations, which may include but are not limited to the following: someone else’s house, a hotel room, anywhere but here, back from whence they came.

Fuck. Every damn time, it’s the same thing.  Someday, someone’s gotta learn.

Here are a few other wardrobe ideas, similar to the one I mentioned here:

Living with a small wardrobe is not only cost effective, but it is a wonderful time management tool.  By limiting your choices to a few matching items, you don’t need to spend hours stressing over your outfit – be it for a date night or a business meeting.

I have yet to accomplish this, but one of my 101 Thing goals is to streamline my wardrobe accordingly.  Yes, it can be a bit boring to wear the same things over and over again, but I like to think that you gain time, as well as a signature look that is really great for building your personal “brand” as a professional.  If you put a lot of effort in at the front end, you can always look polished and pulled-together in the least amount of time required.

Here’s a post about why I am fat.

Not a lot of people like to talk about why they are fat.  Some people make excuses, some people blame others, some people just ignore it and pretend like it’s not an issue.  I personally choose to be matter-of-fact about it.  I am not grossly, morbidly obese – I am can run and walk up stairs without getting out of breath, I can move freely and buy clothing from a regular store, but I am definitely, unquestionably fat.  I am not the size I should be.  It’s as simple as that.

I remember when I started getting fat.  It was right around puberty, actually.  In grade 3, I was happy and healthy and I had just moved to my new school.  I made a lot of friends.  Chris O. said I was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.  I won 3rd prize in the public speaking competition for a speech about my cat, one I had done earlier that year at my old school.  There was one girl I didn’t like, but other than that, it was all good (turns out in about 7 years when she came back to our school, I didn’t like her then, either).

Anyway, so I was in 3rd grade and my teacher was speaking to my parents about putting me in a split 4/5 class for the next year.  I guess I was advanced or something and she thought it would challenge me.  All of my friends were going into the regular class, but I have always been one for novelty and I said “why not!”.  Well, except for the time that I thought my parents were offering me a “grass bed” and I turned it down, only to find out they meant a beautiful, shiny gold bed that went to my sister.  Bastards.

So I went into this grade 4/5 class, and my teacher was a jerk.  A big, big jerk who was very mean to me.  I’m not even sure why, maybe his method of teaching didn’t jive with my intellectual process.  He made people RUN every day, like 1km or so, and there was a sign on the door that said ‘running for success’.  Running was more important than work, it seemed, at times.  My grades (normally in the top 5% of a class) dropped to the point that I nearly failed Grade 4.  He hated me.  I had no friends.  All my friends were in the other class with a teacher they loved.  I used to go to that class whenever I could, just to get away from my horrible teacher.  I got fatter and fatter – a combination of being depressed and going through puberty.  I never did the running, out of spite for the teacher.  I stopped doing my work, out of spite for the teacher.

I remember being in tears at parent teacher meetings.  I remember my dad doing my homework so I wouldn’t fail.  I remember, at the age of 9 or 10, not even caring about anything.  I remember being depressed before I was even a teenager.  I had a crush on a guy that my friend was “dating”.  That’s also pretty hard when you’re 9 or 10.  I remember that friend getting her period first, out of everyone I know.  But, anyway, these are all asides.

Thanks for the impromptu visit, Sister Crackers.

At least now my house is clean!

You think you can beat me, computer?!  You think you can stop me from getting through a full month of blogging

mDNSResponder: Repeated transitions for interface lo0 (127.0.0.1); delaying packets by 5 seconds.

mDNSResponder: Repeated transitions for interface lo0 (127.0.0.1); delaying packets by 5 seconds.

mDNSResponder: Repeated transitions for interface lo0 (127.0.0.1); delaying packets by 5 seconds.

ASFHRYBSKFHT.  I frigging hate this machine right now.

But I WIN.  I. Win.  I am posting, so you can stop acting like a turd now.
Thanks.

I hope that this posts.  My internet has been lame-o for a few days now and it was a struggle to even get this page open.  It’s THERE, it just takes forever to load.

Did some holiday shopping today.  Here’s the list, as it stands:

Mr. Crackers – bought

Sister Crackers – bought

Father Crackers and Lady Chips – planned (waiting until December 1st)

Mother Crackers – planned (will have it done by the end of the week)

Bows/Buttons – half planned (doing a gift exchange, gotta see who gets who)

Dad Crackers – bought

Mom Crackers – no clue

Stir Fry – bought

Cousin #1 – bought

Cousin #2 – no clue

Cousin #3 – no clue

Gramma – half bought

Grandpa – planned

Aunt – no clue

Nan Crackers – planned

Greenpeace – no clue

Big Boss – bought

My Boss – planned

Secret Santa – no idea

I seriously think that is it.  Although I am a bit behind on things, we’re doing not too shabby.  Hopefully, it’ll all be done before the beginning of December.  A girl can always dream…

Just need another good day of shopping and we should be square.  I think I might do baked goods for the remaining people on the list (with the exception of Mom Crackers – gotta get something “real” for her).

Mr. Crackers made venison pot pie and we ate it today.  Boy, was it delish.  I can get used to this whole hunting thing if I get pie!

Living in a city with such a bilingual focus, I thought it would be interesting to do a little test.  Based on the ever-wonderful Wikipedia’s list of French Words and Phrases, here are ones that I have used (always knowledgably, sometimes seriously and sometimes mockingly) as a non-native French speaker:

A

* A few acres of snow
* À la carte
* Acquis communautaire
* Agent provocateur
* Aide-de-camp
* Aileron
* Amour Fou
* Amuse-bouche
* Ancien Régime
* Appellation d’origine contrôlée
* Art Nouveau
* Attaché
* Au pair
* Avant-garde
* Axe historique

Mr. Crackers would just die if he knew I bastardized his beloved gnudi in this way.  Gnudi – which means “naked”, apparently, in Italian – is a lovely ricotta dumpling similar to gnocchi but much, much lighter.  I’m not sure how they make it at Mr. Crackers’ restaurant, but it is very nom nom – crispy outside and tender, delish inside.

We have a tub of ricotta sitting in our fridge, and I wanted to use it today, so I made one of my Patented Ms. Crackers Bastardized Lunches.  These usually come about when I am lacking one or more key ingredients to a traditional recipe, and I decide to just “wing it” instead (meaning no accurate measurements, either).  I am actually quite pleased with this one and its simplicity – a bowl is waiting for Mr. Crackers when he comes home, and I hope that it stays the same so he can enjoy it as well. Update – I ate it all. None for you, Mr. Crackers.

Ricotta Dumplings in Chicken Broth

1 tub of ricotta cheese

high-quality olive oil

freshly cracked pepper

all-purpose flour

kosher salt

unsalted butter

chicken broth (erm…mine does come from a box)

carrot, peeled and cut into tiny tiny squares

dried basil and chili flakes

—–

Get that stock on to simmer – add the basil and chili, carrots, and s&p to taste

In a bowl, season the ricotta with s&p.  add a liberal amount of oil (start with less and build it up as you mix).  The blend should be kind of slimy but not wet.  Once this is mixed, add flour slowly until it forms a ball.

Turn the ricotta out on a floured surface and divide in half.  roll out each half into a long, even log – if it gets sticky, just add a very light dusting of flour.  Once you have your logs ready, cut them into smaller pieces – similar to the process for making a rolled cookie.

Heat some butter in a pan at medium-high heat.  In batches, brown the sides of the ricotta mixture until they are crispy.  Once each batch is done, plunk it into the broth to simmer.

That’s it.  Enjoy it with some nice crispy bread, if you’re feeling like a particularly hearty meal.

(I swear, once I find my camera cord, I’ll post pictures.  Recipes are so much better with food porn).