tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31220261220471778642024-03-18T21:54:21.715-05:00Floundering SalmonUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-81517913655318827012014-02-11T04:48:00.002-06:002014-02-11T04:53:51.668-06:00If you want to push something down, you have to pull it up.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, on a lighter note compared to my last post, I thought I would throw out some more cast iron love. :) I know I'm not all fancy like the <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2011/07/pams-day-of-deliciousness/" target="_blank">Pioneer Woman</a> with immaculate photos, so I'll work on that eventually. For now, I'll have to paint you a word picture with one photo I took with my iPhone because I wanted to instagram it. Yes. I just said that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I am reasoning a skillet, I have a few go to recipes that I like to use. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Number one is anything with bacon, of course. There is nothing like bacon grease for seasoning cast iron. If you are vegan or vegetarian, there is still hope. Try broiling root veggies in coconut oil. It's delicious. I'll put up that recipe soon, but for all the carnivores out there... or fishavores (</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Piscivore if we want to get technical) salmon is a great to cook in cast iron. It's nice and oily, and the cast iron is great for transitioning from the stove top to finishing the salmon under the broiler to crisp up the skin. Not to mention, Salmon is my last name (although we pronounce it saL-mon... not because we are rednecks, but because we weren't named after the fish.) So, yeah, perfect recipe to open with. :)</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">When I first thought about the skin on a fish i was like... wow. That's gross. But watching the food network makes you change your mind because you realize that is what real chefs do. They cook it to perfection and then they eat it. So, if you are aspiring to throw down with Bobby Flay at any point in your life, I suggest you love the skin. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">I have found that frozen salmon doesn't cook as well and doesn't have the skin on. If you are working on seasoning your skillet, you definitely want to go with fresh. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">The fist thing is go ahead and turn your oven to broil. That way it's warmed and ready to finish your salmon without having to heat up while your salmon sits in it's oil. Plus, cast iron retains heat so it is still going to be in cook mode when you put it under the broiler, and you don't want to end up overcooking your fish. </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Next, put your skillet on the eye on medium heat. I like to season my salmon with salt and pepper, paprika,and I add some coconut oil to the skillet while it is warming. Just a little... and for the taste. The salmon is oily enough on it's own, but if you want to add a little butter for flavor, that's fine. I love it with coconut oil, and a small dab of butter or coconut oil can help you gage when your skillet is ready. When the oil/butter melts, looks clear, and is just beginning to sizzle a little lay your salmon in the pan. </span></span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2kKjws0AHIRMIiKOXeqXIQkOaC3eG57-taoNyG9k3cbvWI4VPwAgoxzQTnv30_4wp0QGxK10OfVqlj4IMYI2HkASiLc-GbwJbntdd7VZq5uG9nqELekj10Gxz1C88tgNFBGYfKQwnnKM/s1600/IMG_3917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2kKjws0AHIRMIiKOXeqXIQkOaC3eG57-taoNyG9k3cbvWI4VPwAgoxzQTnv30_4wp0QGxK10OfVqlj4IMYI2HkASiLc-GbwJbntdd7VZq5uG9nqELekj10Gxz1C88tgNFBGYfKQwnnKM/s1600/IMG_3917.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Start with the skin side down, and cook for three to four minutes. Then flip it over. With skin side up, depending on how thick your cut is, you are going to want to cook for 3-5 minutes. Watch the middle of the thickest part. You're looking for it to change color and get kind of shiny. It' will still be slightly darker than the flesh around it. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<ul>
<li>Then grab your pot holder and stick it in the oven. You want to leave it there till the skin puckers just a little and looks crispy. Pull it from the oven and admire your amazing skill. Lift and serve. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And eat. </div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">The brilliant part is the clean up. I like to let my skillet cool down slowly, and then I wipe out all of the oil with a paper towel. You can rinse under tepid water and dry thoroughly with a paper towel if you want, but remember WE WANT THIS OIL. When you are drying it off, it should still seem a oily. Don't do any scrubbing or it's just going to pull off some of your seasoning. After you've dried it put it back on the eye and turn crank the heat up to high. Let the skillet heat up with the eye and as soon as it gets hot, turn it off, remove from the eye, and let it cool down slowly. You just killed a ton of germs and barely had to wash a dish. You're welcome. </span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></span>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-59320741203729357642014-02-09T07:18:00.000-06:002014-02-09T11:36:36.307-06:00We didn’t say Grace, we said on your marks, get set go. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's this little place I go inside of me when I write. I can feel myself snuggle in there when I sit down at my computer. It's not completely dark, but it's definitely dimly lit. I'm not always there when I write things for this blog, and I'm not even always there for every single sentence in a post sometimes. This has been a weird close of an old year and opening of the new one for me, and I'm nestled in to that little spot on my brain's couch ready to pour out a little bit of myself and send it out to fly around on the interewebz where anyone and everyone can stumble upon it. Isn't that sad that's me being brave? I guess I'm not much of a risk taker any more.<br />
<br />
The past few weeks have been a little depressing because I have been an invalid. Well, I feel that way anyway. I have barely been out of the bed. I've had some sort of crud that almost burst my ear drums, Chewy bit me pretty badly and I could barely walk for a few days, mother nature came to visit, and now I have strep throat. So, I've felt pretty useless. It's one thing to do nothing all the time because I want to. It's another because that's all I CAN do. Compared to what I was, I am feeling a lot better now, although the puss pocket on the back of my throat (enjoy that visual) is dragging me down.<br />
<br />
In spite of the bout of virus and bacteria that have ravaged my poor body, nothing has knocked the wind out of my sails faster than getting bit by a short, stocky, angry Pekingese. Talk about childhood issues rising to the surface in a tempest of blood, teeth, screams, and growls. I felt so defeated.... worthless.... heartbroken. It is so hard to give and give and give and love unconditionally and even have a dog seemingly throw it back in your face... or bite it till it is bruised, swollen, and bloody. I swung my foot off the bed, and I think his reflexes from a past life kicked in, and he may have thought he was going to get kicked. To be honest, I'm not sure exactly what happened because I didn't see it happening. I just felt it. I felt it through every ounce of me. Through all that I felt my dad not loving me, all my faults, loss of people I love... weird, right? All that from a dog bite.<br />
<br />
I don't write about my belief system often. I don't flood my Facebook or any one else's with Christian stuff, but even so I've been defending my faith a lot lately it seems. Apparently it's not really the cool thing to do to be a Christian any more. It's what dumb people believe in, and any one with any sense- common or otherwise- would do better to believe in nothing. It's fine to be spiritual, but just don't put a label on it. It's fine to believe in the paranormal, but just don't attribute it to anything biblical. If God was really a good, loving God, why would he ask us to worship him? Everyone has a right to their own feelings and to figure out the world that makes sense to them, but God makes sense to me.<br />
<br />
For me, Chewy chewing my foot off made me think about all this. I love him so much. It hurts when he hurts me because I want good things for him. I want to pet him, cuddle him, and rub his little belly like I do my other dogs... without him going ballistic and wanting to kill me. I found him wandering, meandering alone. He was filthy. He stank. He was sick and needed medical attention. He was hungry, thirsty, and whatever life he had before has left him scared, scarred, and damaged. I picked him up. My family, friends, and I have cleaned him, shaved his matted fur, taken him to the vet, given him medicine, petted him, fed him, fell in love with him, and dealt with his tantrums, his bites, and growls. We have reveled in his cuddles, his licks, and his training.... and through all the pain, (and obviously it has been actually physically painful) we have loved him. That is really a good example of unconditional love... and maybe some stupidity on our part for dealing with all this (haha)... but we love him. He makes me angry. He makes me cry. He makes me laugh, smile, and even enjoy the fact that he wakes me up in the middle of the night because he's sneezed in my face. Because at least he feels safe and wants to be close to me. If we were to give him up, it would be certain death for him. No shelter would place a dog that without a doubt would bite or be aggressive like he can be.<br />
<br />
God found me. He deals with my black heart and stinky mouth. I disappoint him so much every single day, I'm sure. I know I probably hurt him. I do things I'm not proud of, that I regret, and that I fail at a thousand times over. I can't even meet the expectations I place on myself... much less live up to any one else's. My past has me scared and scarred, and sometimes it probably feels like I sneeze in his face.... but he loves me so much, I think he probably likes it. I see him everywhere I look... from the beginning of time and the expansion of the universe...the atoms that build us.... to the blue in the eyes of my niece and nephew and the wonderful heart of my husband. He is everywhere I look. I can't help it if you can't see it. I don't know how to paint the picture any clearer, and I don't really feel like arguing about it anymore because we aren't going to change each other's minds. The only thing I can say to you is live...and let me. That's about all we can do here anyway.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjik6W7NVNwNO2ymg3eVlZwQSpWEpJMDj16digEzlNH96J0qS-d4VmRgGmOGslFl1Fsl7qzXmm8CT8_lVqpEP68zaOR3Pykd5zgPOaEh_Q4AvHGQp5scX7-A-EFwA1cLGeUVFh48P7V4-c/s1600/IMG_2007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjik6W7NVNwNO2ymg3eVlZwQSpWEpJMDj16digEzlNH96J0qS-d4VmRgGmOGslFl1Fsl7qzXmm8CT8_lVqpEP68zaOR3Pykd5zgPOaEh_Q4AvHGQp5scX7-A-EFwA1cLGeUVFh48P7V4-c/s1600/IMG_2007.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You could be reading this right now, rolling your eyes thinking I'm crazy. In fact you may have seen me treat someone horribly. Maybe I treated you badly. I hope I didn't, and if I did, I'm sure an open, honest conversation would clear things up. But whatever I have done, it's been all me so try not to blame god for me being a jerk. </div>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-8443106510542598762013-12-21T04:33:00.000-06:002013-12-21T17:45:42.482-06:00The best way to spread Christmas cheer is by singing loud for all to hear. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Merry almost Christmas. I hope that this little blog post finds you well :) I haven't had very much time to write the past few weeks because I have been working on ornaments for people. People that are actually paying me to do something creative and personal for them! It's like a dream come true. Seriously. If you are reading this, and you have ordered from me, I can't thank you enough.<br />
<br />
It all started when my friend Rema decided she wanted to make her very own Days of our Lives Christmas tree. Apparently Days of our Lives has this thing every year where they add a painted ornament to the tree. Rema has been watching this soap since she was little, and for some reason she entrusted me to fulfill this life long dream for her. That's a lot of faith. She even financed the endeavor and bought supplies for me. All that faith was a lot of pressure, let me tell you. But she loved them, and shared them, and I have gotten more orders thanks to her great idea and love for Days of our Lives.<br />
<br />
During my writing hiatus, I've had a lot of time to learn a few things about myself.<br />
<br />
1. I don't know how to sip things. I have no concept of what a sip is. Unless sip means guzzle. I have this thing where I think I'm going to pour myself some egg nog and sip on it while I decorate the house for Christmas. In like three "sips" my mug of egg nog is gone. GONE. So, needless to say I've probably figured out where all this weight gain over the years has come from. The gallons of egg nog I guzzle at Christmas. Beer belly? Nog belly.<br />
<br />
Which reminds me of an egg nog story. Last year on Christmas Eve I decided I had to have egg nog. Obviously because I had probably SIPPED all that we had in the house, and were out. So we went to Kroger. They were also out. Went to Walmart. Out. Walgreens, CVS, Kmart.... OUT. Everywhere. We were running out of time because stores were starting to close, and we had one tiny shred of hope left in the form of a little Piggly Wiggly. I called ahead out of desperation, and they had two half gallons left. In our whole town there was only one gallon total of egg nog. I sipped them right down.<br />
<br />
2. Katy Perry's "Roar" makes me inexplicably cry. I'm a little embarrassed to admit this on several different levels. I just have to come to grips with the fact that I love this song, and I feel like it's empowering.<br />
<br />
3. It's probably time to start believing in myself. My friends seem to believe in me. My friend Shelly was my first <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/flounderingsalmon?ref=search_shop_redirect" target="_blank">etsy</a> customer :) so maybe it's time for me to add more stuff to the shop...maybe people really might like what I make :) Either way, they seem to like my ornaments! Thanks again everyone that I can now call my customers :) I'm not usually one to brag on my own work, but I can honestly say that the pictures do not do them justice. It's hard for me to get good pictures of ornaments because they reflect and bend the light so much. I'll have to live with what I've got. I'll post more soon. For now check out <a href="http://www.facebook.com/flounderingsalmon%20for%20more." target="_blank">www.facebook.com/flounderingsalmon for more.</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSdupqZnZkE6TQT3mnIlphwX1ogFx3ImTdeDmbXmmKxEFB7-MtthzIwlrk3gmttQf5GFlU1kQQOzExq7MLjkalw4ySfmOkQG8PuQM2XP9OU53aoURdyOU7TX7sJP0C7bAizeyeRDwCkI/s1600/IMG_2760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSdupqZnZkE6TQT3mnIlphwX1ogFx3ImTdeDmbXmmKxEFB7-MtthzIwlrk3gmttQf5GFlU1kQQOzExq7MLjkalw4ySfmOkQG8PuQM2XP9OU53aoURdyOU7TX7sJP0C7bAizeyeRDwCkI/s320/IMG_2760.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWywcanPZ3Av8OvrEohGLDG-ErjgjMGylc0viKtmwDMMZO9OPSPZkd87u8MXIS3KUtwS16nsairCbu27fguUXmPRpbaf8CLiNHeSzRZnO6HhvAqbLDdp1I5Rf-3-MVq0Fk1nWJcRVn7J0/s1600/IMG_2765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWywcanPZ3Av8OvrEohGLDG-ErjgjMGylc0viKtmwDMMZO9OPSPZkd87u8MXIS3KUtwS16nsairCbu27fguUXmPRpbaf8CLiNHeSzRZnO6HhvAqbLDdp1I5Rf-3-MVq0Fk1nWJcRVn7J0/s320/IMG_2765.JPG" width="319" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuzhL-fe730LoMXu31w1T7p9_iMQFAZzukuWgHTVVho_sJFRmFBF4CNNUsmKBGIjTpbyMg-ossWuEVrxAQuit34ZS46lgR7no6mfg7yXmHgm72jVCWZbiigkDYBNC504u9LOHJ31xj3A/s1600/IMG_2785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuzhL-fe730LoMXu31w1T7p9_iMQFAZzukuWgHTVVho_sJFRmFBF4CNNUsmKBGIjTpbyMg-ossWuEVrxAQuit34ZS46lgR7no6mfg7yXmHgm72jVCWZbiigkDYBNC504u9LOHJ31xj3A/s320/IMG_2785.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
We're also on instagram @flounderingsalmon or #flounderingsalmon and <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/stacydsalmon/" target="_blank">pinterest</a>!<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, my friends :)<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">“</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">This week is about Jesus</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">' </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">birthday</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">, eight days of oil, the attainment of nirvana, and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">black people</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;"> being </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 16px; text-align: left;">awesome</span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">." -Bert 'Trophy Wife'</span></span></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-85462472784798828082013-12-05T11:24:00.001-06:002013-12-20T02:30:50.086-06:00Its not wise to upset a Wookiee<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, in a previous post I alluded to another dog that jumped on our life's train car. Or should I say it really just jumped in our real life car. Probably because I told him to. I was driving home from my grandmother's on May 19th, and there was this little Pekingese walking down the road. Now, it was away from any houses on a lonely stretch of road, and with him being so small I just had to believe that he had somehow wandered away from his home. I knew deep within my heart that someone, somewhere was heartsick and desperately searching for this lost little baby. I know I would be if I lost one of my sweet Boston Terriers. I would want someone to scoop them up, take care of them, and try to get them back to me.<br />
<br />
He was SO jolly. So smiley. Soooooooooo cute. Also... So smelly. I will admit that I had a slight apprehension about picking him up and not because of the stink. I have what I like to call the "Wounded dog syndrome." I base this title loosely on a short story by L. M. Montgomery in which the main character had a compulsion to save hurt things, love sad things, try to fix everything for everyone and make things better. This is me, in a nutshell.... and often leads to situations where this meme is appropriate:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkyufzdDO4aRMTP5UqQz6Ww5vC4YVlkewDIPVpKorggPpnuRsMBGMw4xoMUavsIqvH8vUnxXZR68I9mWVR1q5VZ6yIp-QI8H8oZrkjMXCaklzPiOnR_RrL1XFbXVsiucCmK58gSLfOIPI/s1600/75911_10201576134312474_1734486039_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkyufzdDO4aRMTP5UqQz6Ww5vC4YVlkewDIPVpKorggPpnuRsMBGMw4xoMUavsIqvH8vUnxXZR68I9mWVR1q5VZ6yIp-QI8H8oZrkjMXCaklzPiOnR_RrL1XFbXVsiucCmK58gSLfOIPI/s320/75911_10201576134312474_1734486039_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I did pick him up, though, turned around, headed back to my grandmother's, and conned her into driving around from house to house with me to see if we could find his owners. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But... we didn't. And there was no part of me that could leave him where I found him. You may find it impossible to believe when I say it was impossible. Physically impossible for me. I couldn't make myself leave him. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So, that led to the little jolly, smiley, cutie coming home with me and stinking up my house even more than the two dogs and two cats already did. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEj35lUCPPwbdS2TxbW05fMMUP0SQFmVCHkfbLuNKh2EnD4CI0l3lRQOGxocf244tAp95rPkDIaLKEtW_xNiBaXvDeH8vRkYJOAkUeJZg686MysF80Nq8iGpSISzcqMw4fF6jz9Jmu9k/s1600/IMG_0462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLEj35lUCPPwbdS2TxbW05fMMUP0SQFmVCHkfbLuNKh2EnD4CI0l3lRQOGxocf244tAp95rPkDIaLKEtW_xNiBaXvDeH8vRkYJOAkUeJZg686MysF80Nq8iGpSISzcqMw4fF6jz9Jmu9k/s320/IMG_0462.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLtqBPyjt-9HyuECoDjIF9ZTvA4BfZU9qyWFtDcyHcDZQ4h_Ck2scg-KQCGQG-Ye6o8VyQyVnJ7NlqrF_yRcHSKgOPrSoWI8jdYZA4X5eEgJtQ5EkdQPJiEgeC3VAUOQ4ZDHHmMiLnRc/s1600/IMG_0464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsLtqBPyjt-9HyuECoDjIF9ZTvA4BfZU9qyWFtDcyHcDZQ4h_Ck2scg-KQCGQG-Ye6o8VyQyVnJ7NlqrF_yRcHSKgOPrSoWI8jdYZA4X5eEgJtQ5EkdQPJiEgeC3VAUOQ4ZDHHmMiLnRc/s320/IMG_0464.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7wls5HqR80U-Y34pxsXZYxrw1oSE_-k4VHvy6hnDm_1UCrNzVLhvvgRH337JxWAS5HmoxCBSh5cVPnbKtjmRCAYxGOVzSosznPi3xeNvJBiXf-whOyAydXvsqOKNxtpeANDhdorFeAk/s1600/IMG_0467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv7wls5HqR80U-Y34pxsXZYxrw1oSE_-k4VHvy6hnDm_1UCrNzVLhvvgRH337JxWAS5HmoxCBSh5cVPnbKtjmRCAYxGOVzSosznPi3xeNvJBiXf-whOyAydXvsqOKNxtpeANDhdorFeAk/s320/IMG_0467.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It was after those adorable pictures, he laid down in the floor. If I so much as walked near him, he let out a low, menacing growl. And thus began the bipolar, Dr. Jeckyll/Mr. Hyde personality. He can be absolutely vicious. And I wonder... is anyone really looking for him? Was he this mean to his owners? Maybe someone decided they were tired of his constantly ripping into their flesh with his snaggle tooth. Maybe he was abused. Maybe he's just crazy. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I get frustrated a lot because people that hear about him or even the vet (he LOVES going to the vet) think his behavior at home is just a little fussy. Like maybe he gets barky or growly, but he doesn't really mean it. No, he goes beyond what a rabid Rottweiler would act like when he hit the "red zone" on an episode of the Dog Whisperer. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
He's crazy.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
But cute. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyuKz7adpK5ifVhm0g6PK4DGAOb1eP-eojU0OqgvyaR07f3divZSW8-Gm5P7YZyG6-Cv9ebI0DhXUplmrMOPvu6dhSvFgXqyBlyu3YjxqcOG8GTa_YM_5g22kQX52hV-tK9z8reVpwoC4/s1600/IMG_0562.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyuKz7adpK5ifVhm0g6PK4DGAOb1eP-eojU0OqgvyaR07f3divZSW8-Gm5P7YZyG6-Cv9ebI0DhXUplmrMOPvu6dhSvFgXqyBlyu3YjxqcOG8GTa_YM_5g22kQX52hV-tK9z8reVpwoC4/s320/IMG_0562.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This is him at the groomer. We had to take him there to have the matts cut out of his fur since he repeatedly bit me and my Sister-in-law when we tried to clean him up....even though we had pepperoni. Real pepperoni. The groomer said that he was so aggressive that if I took him to the shelter they would euthanize him. Now if he needs to be groomed I have to take him to the vet to get him sedated first. I felt bad that he wanted to kill her, but it was almost a relief for someone to understand what life was like with him on a daily basis. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We decided to name him Chewbacca because he acted like an angry wookiee... but sometimes he could be so sweet. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSfQH3LGwcNGhJdxkOZDNYV06bTRD0Uopy6OObnWrYHAuGmKPrEu2MPzzoJCLG6jyrjsKzBw6F0AFg7QTbpa__6wrDCZacJ-0IoSXfvI1detTsp1BQCLyswmHolpJhIlf3pBLm2zwvpQ/s1600/IMG_0723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSfQH3LGwcNGhJdxkOZDNYV06bTRD0Uopy6OObnWrYHAuGmKPrEu2MPzzoJCLG6jyrjsKzBw6F0AFg7QTbpa__6wrDCZacJ-0IoSXfvI1detTsp1BQCLyswmHolpJhIlf3pBLm2zwvpQ/s320/IMG_0723.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Our household had gone from peaceful with my two precious angel dogs to them hiding under the bed when Chewy started his bouts of terror and rage and I had to respond loudly with "NO!" and trying to manage to wrangle him into a kennel without getting bit and without me touching him. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
No, no spankings... we didn't know what his background was. He could have come from an abusive home, but we did have to establish dominance and boundaries. We had to emasculate him. Literally. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-A_h_lnDIKgG3eEEmArs5AlUBTOjMZpbDUJS6zMSyk4dEaj3FXQqYRlPQNU3FCapCfndUwSeIg51a1nqdqAx7LA13PPywRNlyPWD1T1bDVVWs7dRAymlrnwJk_uddEtGLlHOrA7vJmkE/s1600/IMG_0833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-A_h_lnDIKgG3eEEmArs5AlUBTOjMZpbDUJS6zMSyk4dEaj3FXQqYRlPQNU3FCapCfndUwSeIg51a1nqdqAx7LA13PPywRNlyPWD1T1bDVVWs7dRAymlrnwJk_uddEtGLlHOrA7vJmkE/s320/IMG_0833.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
So, he was neutered in hopes that would calm the rage. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It did help his bad habit of getting so possessive of blankets he wanted to hump that if you walked near him he wanted to bite your leg off. (Which was a huge problem because his favorite place to do his manhood business was in front of the bathroom door.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Today our days are a little calmer, but we still battle his rage... just maybe not on a daily basis anymore. Maybe it's every other day now. That's such an improvement. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And the sweet times are starting to outweigh the scary times. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
He finally learned to play like a doggy and has fun with my Bostons now. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And sometimes he likes to sleep on my face.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We are still working on teaching him not to pee on our pillows, but I have a lot of fun making memes out of his cute face and bad behavior. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIQqSZvkwW1I820RqJlVl3zSrw18qS2lGd8pCJfDM1201kRIwvHlOikYVgZX13PmsVD7Q0Jw6y7sMiPX48YD9SmJQBsbylZGreQ2HIJa5pXgx3ihWjJxHNxmOBCv4lY41nZLSUQtC9FE/s1600/IMG_1269.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicIQqSZvkwW1I820RqJlVl3zSrw18qS2lGd8pCJfDM1201kRIwvHlOikYVgZX13PmsVD7Q0Jw6y7sMiPX48YD9SmJQBsbylZGreQ2HIJa5pXgx3ihWjJxHNxmOBCv4lY41nZLSUQtC9FE/s320/IMG_1269.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
There is still a part of my heart that in spite of the state of the word we live in believes that there has to be hope in humanity. As much as it hurts me now to think of giving him up, I have to believe there is someone out there hurting more because they miss him, they really love him, and he really is psycho and they dealt with it just as lovingly as we try to do. So, share this blog and any future ones that I may write about him... just in case. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
That is really scary for me to even write because he has snarled, clawed, and viciously burrowed his way into our hearts.... Wounded Dog Syndrome has kicked in. I love him more because he needs help learning to be loved and balanced. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-49900812274800733512013-11-26T11:00:00.000-06:002013-11-27T13:43:17.019-06:00That's how America does it, and it's worked out pretty well so far.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of my weird passions is cast iron. I love it. In fact, sometimes my hubs drives me a few towns over to visit the Lodge Cast Iron store and outlet. It's like the most romantic date for me. I'm going to take a few, random posts to discuss how much I love cast iron, maybe post a few recipes, talk about the care of it, reseasoning it, and just a lot of mumbo jumbo. I'm just warning you because I get all nerd about it, probably boring, and can talk about it FOR DAYS. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have my reasons, though. First, because it is awesome. Second, I get worried that cast iron cooking is getting lost to newer generations. I'm worried it's going to fade away like a dying gnome in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0061715/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1" target="_blank">The Gnome Mobile</a>, and just like the old gnome that springs back to life, I'd like for people to get excited about it again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I mean, I want to write it a poem, and It would probably go something like this:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, Cast Iron! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Except then I decide I am no Elizabeth Barrett Browning, so I'll spare you the effort and just tell you (and this is only a few) straight up. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Even heat distribution while cooking</b>- The beauty of cast iron is that it's solid. A skillet or dutch oven sits evenly on the stove eye. Have you ever had a pan that was weighed down by the handle and caused the other side of the pan to not touch the eye? makes for seriously uneven cooking. I do realize that I have said the word even like a zillion times in this paragraph. I decided not to fight it. Close your eyes and let it sink in.... even. even. even. Even cooking, even heat distribution... Important stuff. </span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Natural iron supplemen</b><b>t</b>- That's right! Get an important building block for your body as easy as cooking breakfast in the morning </span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Natural nonstick coating versus teflon</b>- With all the controversy over 'is teflon safe or unsafe' why not just go with what people have been using for generations with no problems?</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>
<br />
<div>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The history</b>- Speaking of what people have been using for generations, great great great grandparents probably cooked their rabbit stew in a pot on the Oregon Trail (or something like that) in a cast iron dutch oven, others washed their clothes in a large cast iron pot, and maybe someone in your past baked their cornbread in a cast iron skillet. Diamonds? Pearls? Pass down your cast iron, too. Imagine the memories that can be preserved when you bake cookies with your children... and give them the cast iron pan you used together on their wedding day (or the day they warn you that you won't be having grandchildren in the traditional manner because they have decided to not get married. I had such a conversation with my grandmother only to have to renege a few months later because Mark came a long and changed my mind.) I have cast iron from my great grandmother and my grandmother, and I cherish it. Not only do I cherish it, I use it almost daily. I think that's pretty cool. </span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since I'm droning on and on, I'll expound on others in a later post. My appreciation for those that aren't faint of heart to read this!</span><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clean up</span></b></li>
<li><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The potential to go from hot to cold and vice versa</span></b></li>
<li><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Super easy clean up</span></b></li>
<li><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Easy transition from the stove to the oven</span></b></li>
</ul>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's the stick shift of cookware. You can find a piece rusted out on someones back porch, and with a little TLC, you can make it look like new. For example, I had been wanting to get a piece of the new cookware at cracker barrel, but I couldn't justify paying full price for it when I don't actually need it. It's the same cookware, made by lodge, but has this cute back: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24_ATtvvU4PX-1xP_Kt6vuY9AcY0XaAPXu4Tq-Y-4tYzlbDybXW-EFqy8rc7TKzNTT_w14feNBrQ1-VGEvVmv0-wsTUyDDadQgKjpbjywhpolJbVDKI-4Aq0lOPAUfL2fsl0SZta5fW4/s1600/lodge-cast-iron-skillet-for-cracker-barrel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh24_ATtvvU4PX-1xP_Kt6vuY9AcY0XaAPXu4Tq-Y-4tYzlbDybXW-EFqy8rc7TKzNTT_w14feNBrQ1-VGEvVmv0-wsTUyDDadQgKjpbjywhpolJbVDKI-4Aq0lOPAUfL2fsl0SZta5fW4/s320/lodge-cast-iron-skillet-for-cracker-barrel.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I found this bad boy....or maybe I should say sad boy:</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JHlTtbsL1ODrhUkgQ46vPW_zT2OekvSwb3ecO_KgwhlV7cTZqN667tLZNf2B0WziZuCFeDrCNcS4btv2bJJlmYHUn-S9CVeN2cVooItQOB4tJa6QuqoQp3hvQlarWIyFPk8S8K65eLk/s1600/IMG_1711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JHlTtbsL1ODrhUkgQ46vPW_zT2OekvSwb3ecO_KgwhlV7cTZqN667tLZNf2B0WziZuCFeDrCNcS4btv2bJJlmYHUn-S9CVeN2cVooItQOB4tJa6QuqoQp3hvQlarWIyFPk8S8K65eLk/s320/IMG_1711.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someone just didn't know how to take care of it. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sad part is that the person that bought this gave up on it. They abandoned it in a junk store and left it to whine and cry at passerby's like a sad puppy. The good news is that I got this puppy for $6, and they retail for double that. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, I started my reseasoning process (which I will share in another blog), and now it looks like this:</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGHuOteudQWEsPntmXx96l6DewiB5ilYXA8YkGeBPyODAY7sXZbH4P3ZukobegrIY7HnrZuQj_TyIfnypTfOiL_FtE8rWgI2XyE6hfP1b4HVztCq8NW8rnt1NJ2RVWKFEF6IdH1HPULk/s1600/IMG_2622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvGHuOteudQWEsPntmXx96l6DewiB5ilYXA8YkGeBPyODAY7sXZbH4P3ZukobegrIY7HnrZuQj_TyIfnypTfOiL_FtE8rWgI2XyE6hfP1b4HVztCq8NW8rnt1NJ2RVWKFEF6IdH1HPULk/s320/IMG_2622.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perfect cornbread :) No sticking!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFTkPKqL-OKYER9ZNCa3gsDcr5A79lFvOpI_Pck7Mbrw7IB2FPoKgHMgjffde-7uHXksNAUgKBS9I6n_y52Tlyagr4GAy2gLWl5AsKd2nopZ7ZxL1LpqLxeCBPu3WAtHbprU8tBrlspM/s1600/IMG_2675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhFTkPKqL-OKYER9ZNCa3gsDcr5A79lFvOpI_Pck7Mbrw7IB2FPoKgHMgjffde-7uHXksNAUgKBS9I6n_y52Tlyagr4GAy2gLWl5AsKd2nopZ7ZxL1LpqLxeCBPu3WAtHbprU8tBrlspM/s320/IMG_2675.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few tips and tricks for using cast iron: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let it heat up and cool down slowly. This cuts down on condensation which helps prevent rusting. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's not considered cheating to use a nonstick spray on your cast iron just like you would any other pan or dish. In fact, it can help season the cast iron easily and effectively.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember that the food will let you know when it is ready to be released while cooking. Don't try to turn food over (like steak, burgers, fried eggs) if it is still sticking. It'll let go when it is ready to turn. Remembering this rule makes clean up much easier, and for this reason, scrambled eggs are the only thing I don't recommend cooking in cast iron. </span></li>
</ul>
</div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check out Lodge's website for more information and some great gourmet recipes!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.lodgemfg.com/"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.lodgemfg.com</span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's an interesting link on the benefits of cast iron cooking. See? I'm not crazy. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.naturalnews.com/031737_cast_iron_cookware.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.naturalnews.com/031737_cast_iron_cookware.html</span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-66813226194463109932013-11-16T03:42:00.002-06:002013-11-16T03:47:47.456-06:00It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /><br /> "It's like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down through the air and there's a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;">I remember hearing that quote resonate in the theater, and I caught my breath and held it, and I cried. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">Many nights over the past year, I've cried for someone, heart broken, lingered over every word written, and wished there was some way I could change what happened. I want to say that I felt her pain, that I felt the terror, but you can't be empathic unless you've been there... and no one in our little neck of the woods had been there before. Still, the heart tries to understand and the mind tries to grasp what it is like to lose a sister, daughter, friend in such a horrible, violent.... needless... way. There was a </span></span><span style="line-height: 19px;">thief in our midst, and he had stolen something precious. When he did, he left a void in all of us... whether we knew it at the time or not. I want the heavy stone of her and her family's pain to continue to create beautiful, unending ripples across this world, and I want to share them the best way I can... since they were brave, I'm posting here... the place I try to be brave, open, and vunerable.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">I didn't know Megan, and I didn't know Kelly...but not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of them and their family. I have poured over pictures and stories by Kelly and her oldest daughter Carrie. Since I didn't personally know them, I wondered if I should even write anything as a </span></span><span style="line-height: 19px;">tribute to what she and her family have meant to me. The night I was mulling it over, thinking, I was walking outside and looked up. A shooting star blinked so quickly that I thought I had imagined it. I know there are coincidences, but in my heart I felt a starry eyed girl and her mom were nodding at me. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 19px;">So, I'm writing to tell you, Kelly Hale that you made a huge impact on my life. I love you, and I love your family. I know *her name is Megan* because of you. I love the way you wrote and the words you chose, and this is my tribute to you. I will smile for her, I will laugh for you, and I will continue to grieve for your family. I know what it is like to lose a mom, and my heart will bleed for the children you left behind. I am so grateful for your oldest daughter. She is so brave, like you, that even in the midst of her pain and darkness, she has picked up your torch so that we can follow along in her journey through the tears and laughter. Because of her, we will still feel connected to you and Megan, and we get to meet another one of your heroic children. You guys are a family of fighters, and I pray that you find some solace... some peace. *"I think it's time to be happy again."*</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 19px;"> One thing Kelly posted frequently about was how she felt she was letting them down because she couldn't get past her pain. </span><span style="line-height: 19px;">She loves them so much. Now she feels no pain and can be present with them. *All the time.*</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;">There really isn't anything that I can say that anyone else in this community hasn't said before me. Our hearts have all broken, and I think that a tragedy brought us, linked us together on some other plane, off in the sunset somewhere, a place we didn't know. We are family there. We know their names are Megan and Kelly, and we love them. *All the time.*</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">If you feel inclined, Kelly would ask you to spread some cheer today, do good in this world, and to do it for Megan. Any place where you see asterisk, that is a direct quote or a writing style of Kelly's. Learn more about her and her wonderful family at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PeaceForMeganSharpton" target="_blank">Peace for Megan Sharpton</a>. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.” </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">― </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/36746.Lemony_Snicket" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-decoration: none;">Lemony Snicket</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-67416353156473022732013-11-07T11:00:00.000-06:002013-11-07T20:08:10.824-06:00If you wish to see a film about a happy little elf, then I'm sure there is still plenty of seating in theatre number two.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, some updates since I have last written would include what can only be called a series of unfortunate events, and a domino effect ending in depression, another dog, and an overwhelming amount of gratitude for my husband, family, and friends. Interspersed with stress and anxiety are rainbows and singing elves, though. :)<br />
<br />
It is always a perfect love that breaks through the clouds of heartache and casts it's beams of light onto your soul. Sometimes the ground is too saturated from the storms to burst into life when those beams hit, but given time, our souls wake again. I feel like maybe mine is a little mossy at the moment. Maybe the spring is coming. In the meantime I'm so thankful my husband is trying to give me room to grow, and in the midst of the storms, has showered me with love.<br />
<br />
There have been some rabbit trails that have lead to new adventures. I've done a couple of craft shows. I might have to add them to my list of failures, but I am learning a lot. My aunt and I have been working together on some projects and are slowly but surely setting up our etsy shop in addition to partnering with my grandmother in renting a small booth in an antique and craft mall. I'm going to try to mix a little of that with a little of this. That being crafts, vintage, and things going on in my life and this being blogging.<br />
<br />
We have the cutest little booth! I love it. We always find or make the cutest little treasures. If you are ever in Bell Buckle, TN, drop by the Antique and Craft Mall and check it out.<br />
<br />
<br />
Here are some of the cute little treasures we have had in our booth. We have more current photos on our <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Floundering-Salmon/113076552044304" target="_blank">flounderingsalmon</a> Facebook page.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS9tR5JUEU2Wq2JuUUdWnoXZvarT45JNN4Rp2cFe7dlcIWMFcdQvMugPqApGtuFyenP2SbSKbBidx-tzacZnujcpImYMYYYDazzN4psF2Rpa8oU2ITWuf49E94tkMxqQ4JUAz0zN4dMOg/s1600/IMG_1942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS9tR5JUEU2Wq2JuUUdWnoXZvarT45JNN4Rp2cFe7dlcIWMFcdQvMugPqApGtuFyenP2SbSKbBidx-tzacZnujcpImYMYYYDazzN4psF2Rpa8oU2ITWuf49E94tkMxqQ4JUAz0zN4dMOg/s320/IMG_1942.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimcRnodu5NQey9VPR06lSuIL5koQ7ETEsJza1_OMLeMQE3CUdsxtRAAHd7jEkXpzl4fUaJecFBXDI8AZF1PnLvFEzp-MmdYtmuQqBm859_R-yjDkniiPcnT0PpIsYMW7Xw0y5oTnh1_OE/s1600/IMG_1950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimcRnodu5NQey9VPR06lSuIL5koQ7ETEsJza1_OMLeMQE3CUdsxtRAAHd7jEkXpzl4fUaJecFBXDI8AZF1PnLvFEzp-MmdYtmuQqBm859_R-yjDkniiPcnT0PpIsYMW7Xw0y5oTnh1_OE/s320/IMG_1950.JPG" width="247" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIhRmepEi_xZr_T3IRU_QCZMgdkkajkGWYIUzTnJZLWLr137JNhWvLaRVRW2hnoRaIdK3T-SYlmKBqWzw95fESEi1AY67IiKc2KnHmwCaz3CDgz_THflUxzOlLrYW6T09cGL8zU7bhuk/s1600/IMG_1952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIhRmepEi_xZr_T3IRU_QCZMgdkkajkGWYIUzTnJZLWLr137JNhWvLaRVRW2hnoRaIdK3T-SYlmKBqWzw95fESEi1AY67IiKc2KnHmwCaz3CDgz_THflUxzOlLrYW6T09cGL8zU7bhuk/s320/IMG_1952.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
And then we are slowly (we're talking at a snail's pace here) building our etsy shop. There are some cute things there. And when I say some, at this moment in time, I mean two. Check them out at<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/flounderingsalmon">http://www.etsy.com/shop/flounderingsalmon</a>.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, I'm considering these little victories and some wild flowers springing towards the sun. We'll see where the wind takes me. </div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-55664000335509220592012-01-09T07:50:00.003-06:002012-01-09T07:57:46.364-06:00When I'm sad, I just quit being sad and be awesome instead<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, it's nice that things are turning around... I am still trying to find a job that I think will be a good fit for me, and in the mean time I've done some soul searching and healing. I've TRIED to be productive, and have started a new <a href="http://www.fishsticksandkidsense.blogspot.com/">blog</a> about things that I KNOW, not just the ramblings of a wild woman that you see here ;) I've also tried to be productive in the creativity department, but as all of us bipolar types know, that side of us ebbs and flows. I've actually gotten a little braver, and I think with time and positive energy, maybe I can do something with that crafty side of myself. I've actually posted something on etsy! OK, so it was only one thing, but hey! It's a start. :D<br />
<br />
We got a new puppy, Darcy, shortly after I miscarried, and she is pretty much the most precious thing ever. She has the same issues potty training that we had with Dharma, but I think that it's just my lack of potty training skills. Give me a week with a two year old, and it's a done deal, but a puppy? I'm apparently the worst puppy potty trainer in the world. It's worth it, though, because sometimes all I have to do is look at them frolicking in the floor, and I start fat laughing. They are excellent mood lifters, and were much better than anti depressants or chocolate. Reading over my last post, I think that I was in a very egocentric grieving stage. I am now more balanced and empathetic. I never knew what it felt like when people lost an unborn child. I mean, I've had friends go through things like this, and I could lend my shoulder... but now I can cry with them. It's still hard when I hear news of my friends so excited about their pregnancy and sharing all the news about it when they are as far along as I was when we lost our baby. It's also frustrating to hear people that are pregnant complain about aches and pains and morning sickness when I miss everything about being pregnant. I miss wanting to puke every time I moved. I miss being so exhausted that I couldn't keep my eyes open, I miss my husband calling me every morning as he got off work to ask what I was craving so that he could bring me something to eat.<br />
<br />
Although, there are new things for me to have anxiety about... like that the world is ending in December, and when it comes, I'll have to die knowing I never got to live in a finished house. haha. but I'm feeling much better. I'm hoping that maybe there will be less things hitting the fan in the upcoming year, and maybe I can just enjoy the breeze for once. This time off has been a godsend in light of all that's happened the past few months, and I am thankful for unemployment, friends who made an effort to support me and communicate with me, and to know that I'm slowly on my way to becoming a better person.... with hopefully less mood swings. :D</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-9368207591572186632011-09-09T02:40:00.000-05:002011-09-09T02:40:02.686-05:00A Tribute to Ted L. Nancy: Food Network Email June 10 2011<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
First, I just want to say how much I love Food Network. I have many favorite shows, and I LOVE Chopped, Restaraunt Impossible, and Five Ingredient Fix. Right now I am watching Chic & Easy, and I have to say that I am disgusted that she got her meat out, touched it, touched her blender, her towel, her plastic wrap, and her knife without washing her hands. It's just gross. It really takes away the enjoyment of the show when I am thinking about the meat slime that is all over her hands. It seems to me as I watch food network, that health and safety practices in the kitchen are of highest importance, and I am surprised that this was not caught in editing. As someone who loves your network, I just thought you would like to know that the integrity of the food, recipe, and the delightful hostess are compromised when all the audience can think about is meat slime all over the kitchen. Thank you for your time, and please continue your excellent programming. <br />
<br />Sincerely, S. Salmon</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-17880933530500329932011-09-09T02:33:00.001-05:002012-01-09T07:53:45.154-06:00One fish, two fish, red fish.... blue fish<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So, it's 1:30 in the morning, and I find myself here. I haven't written in so long, but right now, this seems to be the only thing that makes sense for some strange reason. Maybe I just need to say something without saying anything... and have no one say anything in return, but still know how I feel. or maybe the clicking of the keys is just comforting... feeling like I'm accomplishing SOMETHING. Even though it's not a novel or some other piece of greatness... It will just feel cleansing to get it out. <br />
<br />
I remember when my husband sat me down and told me he was ready to be a dad. I had inner feelings of panic because there was just so much uncertainty. I had to travel with work, I am messy, we have pets with lots of hair, I hate doing dishes, I have weird ovaries that don't always work, I am 31... my mom died at 48... what if I don't have a lot of time left. I just really didn't know if it would happen or if I could do it. All these thoughts spin through my heart and my head. I'm sure that is normal. I'm sure everyone freaks out at the thought of becoming a parent... so whatever. I don't really care to hear about everyone else right now. <br />
<br />
When I saw that tiny heartbeat on the screen during my first sonogram, I didn't care about those thing as much anymore. The thought of growing a baby inside of me that might be sweet and shy with red-brown hair like my husband (Or loud and obnoxious like me ;) ) was the most important thing. That my husband would finally get to become a father... and this girl that never thought she would even be able to conceive was going to be a mom.... it was peaceful. Well, peaceful in a "your life is never ever EVER going to be the same! what the heck are you going to do?" kind of way. And then it was just kind of.... ripped away in a matter of seconds. This tiny thing that didn't even know me, but had to trust me was gone. And I know people go through this every day... but like I said, I don't really care about other people right now. I care that I am sitting at my computer at 2:14 unable to drink anything (and I am so stinking thirsty) because I have to have my baby removed tomorrow. <br />
<br />
My hubs is asleep in the next room. He's tired and emotionally exhausted... and I feel bad for him because he isn't dealing with just the loss of his first child and the hopes and dreams that came along with it, but he has to worry about me and what I have to go through tomorrow...and what I am going through now. He was so worried about me the day we found out that he wouldn't let me drive home from the doctor. I was so angry because I just wanted to drive so I didn't have to think about anything else... but he drove because he was afraid I would be too upset... but he ran a red light on the way home because HE was so upset himself... bless his heart. I love him so much.<br />
<br />
I am so scared to go through this procedure... and my heart is so broken for this tiny, tiny little thing that I never even got to meet... that never even heard my voice. But it was so loved by it's mommy and daddy... And maybe there are some people out there that don't believe a baby is a baby till it pops out of a vagina, and that is fine. Believe what you want. Because I'm here to tell you that regardless of what you believe, that little thing in the womb is a heartbreaker. I only knew about it for about a month, but Mark and I loved it for a lifetime. Little Jelly Bean will be missed.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-81204127344657037972011-07-14T04:40:00.000-05:002011-07-14T04:40:30.638-05:00A tribute to Ted L. Nancy: McDonald'sto whom it may concern<br />
<br />
due to the new marketing for Chicken McNugget Sauces, I am worried that you are discontinuing HOT MUSTARD sauce. As a loyal McDonald's customer, I would like to strongly advise against the removal of hot mustard from your menu. There is already enough controversy at several local McDonald's when ordering sauces. I have been told that even if I pay for the sauces that I want, I can't have extra. This means, of course, that I don't have extra hot mustard to carry me through this crisis. I sincerly hope that you change your mind and leave hot mustard on the menu because without it, I can find no reason to eat chicken McNuggets. Sincerly, S. SalmonUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-90311701722921090952011-07-13T00:10:00.000-05:002011-07-13T00:10:00.448-05:00A Superhuman is someone who refuses to be average.It's up and down right now with all that is going on in our lives. I feel as if I am floundering around with no direction.Maybe when I chose the name of my mini enterprise, it was a foreshadowing of emotions to come. For all those out of the loop, I have recently joined the ranks of the unemployed. The worst part of my life right now is that Mark is watching Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, and while I am normally all about some man humor (having a hormone imbalence) this is pretty much the worst movie ever. It's not funny. at. all. so. far. and i find it utterly distracting and definitely no Mall Rats. <br />
<br />
This is the first time in my life that I am actually searching for a job... or something that I want to do for the rest of my life. I have always had great luck and no shortage when it came to jobs before, and this has really made me have to stop and think about what it is I want to do. I will admit the time off has been refreshing, but there is always a quick change in the wind that leads from refreshing to freaked out. It's times like these that make me miss thinking that fairies lived in tiny flowers and my biggest fear was that there was someone under my bed at night writing down everytime I took a breath. Now it's turning off my cable... which is scarier than it sounds. Not as scary as how stupid this movie is, but pretty scary. I know that trimming the fat down to necessities is a lot more than some, and I know that there are worse situations in the world. I know there are people hurting and scared more so than I will ever be. It's just that I always thought that I'd be doing something that helped me make a difference in those people's lives. I know that I still can help people, but it's much easier with financial backing and the fact that it's my job. I'll be honest... It's really hard for me to collect my thoughts and write about something meaningful with this trash droning on and on in the background, so i'll end here.<br />
<br />
I'm just trying to push past average, find my superpowers, and move on.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-63535997718958324722011-05-20T20:16:00.000-05:002011-05-20T20:16:55.690-05:00though we are worlds apart, like us, there's more to them than meets the eyeI beginning to wonder if you ever truly know yourself. <br />
<br />
<br />
One of my goals in life is to not become a hoarder. I often watch the hoarding specials on TLC to remind myself. The irony is that I am sitting on the couch watching TV instead of up cleaning my hoarding piles. I have this thing about collecting. I'm not sure if you have ever seen the movie "Everything's Illuminated," but the main character is a collector of things. The difference is he is an OCD collector of things, so he collected in an organized way. I, however, filled my first apartment with stuff and only had to purchase a couch, chair, and kitchen items. The majority of those things were originally housed in my bedroom at my grandparent's house. Needless to say, it was NOT organized and quite difficult to clean my room. I still have stuff there, and my grandmother is constantly trying to send it home with me... i try not to take it because we are running out of room around this house. <br />
<br />
Now that we have started couponing, it's a whole different ballgame of hoarding. I'm having to reorganize the kitchen cabinets to make room for food and snacks because we are saving up for dooms day. With unemployment skyrocketing in the salmon house, it's always good to be prepared with snacks, air freshener, and soft scrub. Call me if you need crackers.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-33147523384343038072011-05-17T03:32:00.001-05:002011-05-20T20:20:37.610-05:00Brave is Short for BraveryEvery night there is a not so silent war that wages over a small, pink neck pillow. Mark and I covet this pillow, but technically it's his. His mom got it for him for Christmas, and I try to make the argument that it's PINK and there are LITTLE STARS AND MOONS ALL OVER IT, and it's GIRLY, and it is to no avail. I am not quite sure why his mom got it for him for Christmas since it is so girly, and she is not owning up to a packaging mistake. I just know that it is probably the best present in the history of the world. It's like a slice of heaven in the midst of flat, lifeless pillows, a bed that feels like it was designed by satan, and a dog that hogs the bed. The dog is Dharma, my sweet, small, Boston Terrier-- not my husband. Although, I feel like calling him a dog when I see that pillow just hanging out from under his head, not really being used... as it is now. <br />
<br />
There are a lot of changes going on right now, and I am not sure which way the wind is blowing-- it feels more like a vortex than just a general shift. It's a high stress situation around here that we have to take a day at a time, minute by minute sometimes, and have to verbally remind ourselves that we should be sticking together not screaming at each other... That the only fights we should be having are over a pillow. <br />
<br />
I am scared, have no control, and am not sure how much more we are going to lose... but one thing I know for sure is that I would sleep a lot better at night if he would let me borrow that neck pillow. <br />
<br />
I have never used the word pillow in my writing so much in my life... unless you count a little ditty i made up with my friend Tyler Hankins about a blue neck pillow belonging to my friend Karen Neal. (What is it with all these neck pillows breaking gender roles?) Anyway, this is a fun song/poem, and first time being published:<br />
<br />
She's got a blue pillow<br />
That she likes to lay on<br />
She likes to sit on<br />
She likes to carry-on<br />
<br />
She gets on the airplane <br />
And feels kind of sluggish<br />
She reaches in her carry-on luggage <br />
For her little blue pillow<br />
<br />
<br />
Still a work in progress, and you probably had to be there to get why it's so funny... but just sharing it with the few blog followers I have makes me feel a little braver, and trust me. I need a bravery boost right now. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-11585648377054026922011-02-24T03:08:00.000-06:002011-02-24T03:08:30.080-06:00Maybe you don't know what I'm talking about now, but believe me you will when it's overDeath has been playing darts again. Zipping past, those darts often hit their target. It's hard to watch, really, as people fall, more people hurt, and the cycle continues. I feel the air as a darts flies by, and I try to dodge them, but one day, it's going to hit. It makes me wonder, of course about me and my life. What do I do that makes me any different from the mattress I'm sitting on? Will I leave behind more than excited facebook status updates on useless reality tv shows? <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This is something that we all wrestle with, I know, and every now and then it wells up inside me screaming: "What am I doing to leave a legacy?!?!?!" I wrestle with it until my hip has popped out of socket, but unlike the biblical reference, I don't feel I have a blessing when our match is over. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The greatest thing I have to show for my life is my husband. I feel that he is my best decision and my marriage is my greatest accomplishment. Unfortunately, he is not something I am excited about leaving behind for someone else. haha. He just makes me fear death even more. I remember, once, when I wasn't scared. I was excited to go, and now.... it unsettles me because I am so in love with the people in my life. I watch my niece and nephew run around. They laugh, sing, cry, get bitten by flamingos, and my mom and grandfather are not tangibly here to see them. It makes me sick. I don't want to miss anything because those kids really are that awesome, and how many people in this world can say that they have been bitten by a flamingo. I'm going to bet it's close to those that are struck by lightning or eaten by a piranhas. <br />
<br />
I used to weep for the day that I could leave this earth. I craved it; I was so ready. Now, I have to say I am enjoying my stay. I just hope that my visit here is as enjoyable for everyone else. I hope I make a difference some where, some how, some way... and I hope I leave something beautiful behind (other than my beautiful husband that is... hands off, ladies ;p) so people think "Wow. She did much more than take up space and watch Rocky movies." <br />
<br />
"Going in one more round when you don't think you can - that's what makes all the difference in your life."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-71798487849106763312010-06-14T01:42:00.001-05:002010-06-14T01:43:21.744-05:00You gotta stop talking about it. It's like "the Sopranos." It's over. Find a new show.I'm sitting on my porch, and i think i just heard gunshots. I'm beginning to think they're fireworks because if it were gunshots, whoever they were gunning down would be dead already. <br />
<br />
it's one thirty in the morning, so i am guessing some teenagers are enjoying their summer. after all, it's sunday and any normal killers would be sleeping at this hour. <br />
<br />
i'm sitting here enjoying what i thought would be quiet, but now theres a train to add to the distant banging and booming, and i have not much to discuss. i'm still locked in my head a lot, and i'm having trouble getting it down through my fingers... all the things i'm thinking and feeling. <br />
<br />
lando, the token black cat has gone to live with my in laws. he didn't like any litter box we offered; he enjoyed going around it and right in front of the shower instead. i'm happy to report he is enjoying his new home and new litter box.<br />
<br />
i guess i'm saved from being the crazy cat lady with a crazy cat husband. that is, at least, some peace of mind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-18664669685065392012010-04-29T22:30:00.000-05:002010-04-29T22:30:11.491-05:00You've become part of a bigger universe. You just don't know it yet.i've had writers block lately. started a few blogs but then deleted them because they just weren't flowing. i'm still tossing around those ideas, but they will have to wait for now. the majority of topics i've been struggling with for this blog are the same ones i struggle with on a daily basis in my personal life. who the heck am i and why am i here? i thought i had myself all figured out, but then i got married. it's brought out a whole new aspect of who i am and parts of me that i didn't even know were inside of me. maybe this is what the whole iron sharpens iron thing is about. because honestly, i feel that hopefully it's making me a better person than i would've been otherwise since all those issues are coming up, showing me how i can grow.<br />
<br />
so the question is, do we ever really know ourselves completely? i thought i had gotten to that point, but marriage has brought new fear, new insecurities, and new possibilities. death scares me when it never really did before, because i have more of a vested interest in someone's life other than my own. i don't want to leave him, and i don't want him to leave me. i went the funeral of a dear lady today. several generations spoke or sang on her behalf. this new strand of time that i am traveling is scary sometimes. will i have children? who will they be? better yet: how bad will i mess them up!?! i think the paradigm shift that i have experienced is the most overwhelming of all. this is the last place i thought i would ever be. my plan was to adopt as a single mother, and now i am afraid that i won't be able to have his babies........ my brain is constantly full of these thoughts. sometimes i thank God for The Big Bang Theory. it's the sort of mind numbing, fun TV that gets my thoughts down to a minimum.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-15862042404497025682010-04-11T01:35:00.001-05:002010-04-11T01:39:31.640-05:00I don't know, but if cats could sing, they'd hate it, too..<blockquote style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><blockquote>The first thought I had this morning was: Everyone needs a cat. You may or may not agree with this statement. You may or may not be a dog person. I will tell you, though, there is nothing like having a pet that will jump up and give you some snuggles while shedding all over you, yet leave you alone most of the time. Especially when your dog only causes you injury. Mine has almost cracked my knee cap......or something. I only know that as I was trying to wrestle him down in the shower to rinse his mouth and face free FROM THE PAINT THAT HE HAD LAPPED LIKE IT WAS WATER, my knee slammed down on the hard floor...... and I couldn't put weight on it for almost a month. Today, I was outside taking him out for a potty stroll, talking to my dear <a href="http://jmangino.blogspot.com/">Jenny </a>(Shout out) on the phone, and Baxter took off at top speed, full run, and yanked the leash out of my hand. I can't even make a fist. Which means I can't shake one at him. Maybe he can read my mind and was resentful of the cat worship I was guilty of this morning..... I don't know. </blockquote></blockquote><b><br />
</b><br />
<b>Another point for the felines</b>: if Baxter would just poop in a box like the rest of the animals in this house, I wouldn't have to take him outside. Cats are pets for the lazy... <br />
<br />
If he wouldn't chew my house, he wouldn't have to stay in a kennel. If he wouldn't crush me, he could snuggle with me on the couch.... did I mention that he's six months old and the size of a small truck? <br />
<br />
Even as I sniffle my nose and try to wipe the cat fur off of it and hear a rustle of pop tart wrapper behind me (Lando, my black cat is playing with it), I think no wonder if you are going crazy, a cat is the best pet. I'm two cats away from being a Crazy Cat Lady myself. After the injuries I think the cat ladies actually have it all figured out. "Bark twice if you're in Milwaukee." He may be before it's all over.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-61876909179294608252010-04-09T23:43:00.000-05:002010-04-09T23:43:04.383-05:00Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those who transform into the Force.<span title="Source: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith"><i>"Death<br />
is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those who transform into the<br />
Force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not. Attachment leads to<br />
jealousy. The shadow of greed, that is.</i>" -Yoda<br />
<br />
</span>I can tell Death has been here when I keep finding post-it notes around the house... on the bathroom mirror, on the front door, over my bed. The notes are just his mocking reminders that He might come closer next time, take someone else I don't want to live without, and laugh at me in my misery. <br />
<br />
I think about what Yoda said a lot, and I realize, that yeah... attachment is jealousy and jealousy is the shadow of greed... and that I am greedy. I don't want people to die... I don't want to live without them... because I want them in my life. How greedy is that?<br />
<br />
After reading the Purpose Driven Life, I realized that Life = Soylent Green. <br />
<br />
It's people. <br />
<br />
It's you guys that fill my life with laughter and catch my tears with your shoulders. I appreciate that you understand me, and that is so, so hard for me to find. <br />
<br />
I remember the first time I heard Stand By Me... and the first time I watched the movie for that matter, and I remember crying, as young as I was, because I already felt the profound impact that people would have in my life. When my sky tumbles and my mountains crumble, my friends are there. <br />
<br />
And when I keep finding these post-it notes, it reminds me of how much I love my friends. I wonder if I tell you that as much as I should. Or even if the words I say actually convey the meaning from my heart... because I feel that in these circumstances, words really don't get my point across. <br />
<br />
Yet here I am again... using them. <br />
<br />
Anyway, have a great day.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-38307240704854132332010-04-09T22:58:00.000-05:002010-04-09T22:58:32.154-05:00Well, she is over sixty-five, Helen, and old people can’t be trusted.<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="blog"><tbody>
<tr><td width="30"><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://x.myspace.com/images/spacer.gif" width="30" /></td> <td> <!--- blog subject --> <div class="blogSubject"> <br />
</div><!--- blog body --> <div class="blogContent" id="pBlogBody_446166850">It's easy to say formulaic things while perched up there on your ivory tower. It's so easy to say 1 + 1 = 2 + 1 = 3 + 2 = 5... like maybe Fibonacci had it all figured out, and if you just say and do the right things, eventually you will get the result that you want. <br />
<br />
I used to be that way. I actually need to say that I used to be guilty of thinking that way: keep praying. keep reading your Bible. meditate on scripture. <br />
<br />
What do you do, my friends, when your alabaster box breaks, but Jesus' feet aren't where you thought they were? What do you do when the outpouring of your soul begins, but your most trusted and dearest friend isn't there catching your tears on his skin? Then you look around, and even people you trusted are holding stones? Stones of selfishness, misunderstanding, their own pain, judgment, and you can see lack of empathy in their eyes...and the one person that is going to come to your defense just stoops down and writes "Jesus was here" in the sand...<br />
<br />
<br />
Well, I'll tell you. You do what you have to do. You get by. You relearn things. You figure it out. You find out who your real friends are. And let me just say you learn that they may be what some would call tax collectors and prostitutes, but they love you unconditionally. Heck, you may look down and realize that you are the one wearing the scarlet A.You begin to realize that there is no formula for your grief. There is no calculations that equal healing, and things don't always work out in the way you thought you had been promised. <br />
<br />
<br />
I think that we must all work out our own salvation. We all handle things in different ways, we all hurt and grieve differently. During the famine and in the wilderness we find our own survival methods, and in times of feast we all have our favorite foods. <br />
<br />
Sure, I have failed. Fallen on my face. Bruised my palms. Scraped my knees. But I am still here, tripping over the Cornerstone sometimes, slamming my head on the Rock, but never, ever using a crutch. <br />
<br />
Before you judge, check your eyes for planks. Should we hang out in the tombs when we fall.... within the white washed sepulchers with the vipers? Or should we leave what may appear to be safe, try to live, make mistakes...even if it is just to get over a mistake from the night before...<br />
<br />
It doesn't matter if you understand. It does not matter if you agree. Geeze. Just be there. Be the friend that you were commanded to be. Give your coat AND shirt.<b> But remember</b>, maybe they are where they are because you turned around, walked away, and left them broken, hurting and alone. Maybe the very God they served is the one they felt betrayed them....do you even know what it feels like to try to rebuild a trust like that?<br />
<br />
I guess, as I climb off my soap box I just want to say... calculate 70 x 7 and get back to me. </div></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-67157053460847676972010-04-09T22:27:00.000-05:002010-04-09T22:30:56.871-05:00The World Needs All Kinds Of Heroes<div class="blogSubject"><br />
</div><div class="blogContent" id="pBlogBody_443770481">I get this way sometimes, caught up in my own virtue and thinking that I do everything I can to make the world a better place. Then boys in blue hoodies point out that maybe I really don't do anything at all, and it really makes me think.... do I?<br />
<br />
I'm sitting in London's drinking some PBR, and in walks a woman quite familiar to the local area. She often walks into random places and asks strangers for rides. She stayed there a long time... a couple of hours. I decided I was ready to leave, and like a radar zoning in on a target, she somehow magically appeared right beside me....and asked me to take her home. <br />
<br />
Of course I said yes with a happy, smiling face....but inside I could feel Vesuvius was beginning to show signs of awakening. I felt unhappy, uncomfortable, and inconvenienced...yet there she was chattering away...<br />
<br />
Then... somewhere between the gas station and Bob's Foodland (Which is not quite the Land of Food it claims to be) I felt some shift in the cosmos... like I passed through a wardrobe to the Narnia of God's understanding, and I was instantaneously enlightened. The speed of the shift in my heart is almost inexplicable because it was so fast and unexpected. <br />
<br />
I became overwhelmingly thankful for my life. Amazed that I am who I am, and I was chosen to live the life that I lead. I felt like I was spiritually kneeling at this woman's feet, washing them, and drying them with my soul. <br />
<br />
Which, anyone who knows me knows that I hate feet, and I don't want to ever, ever touch them unless I can look at them without being disgusted... which is rare. So, the fact that I actually am comparing it to washing feet... shows what an impact this made on me...<br />
<br />
After that, the smile on my face wasn't forced and the conversation wasn't painful. So, I dropped her off, and felt warm in my heart.<br />
<br />
And so, to all darling, loved, argumentative boys in blue hoodies I would like to say..... it's not the value you place on other people that makes your life meaningful. It's the value they place on you. Like our gold conversation: if it is not valued among a society, it's worthless. Maybe I'm not a member of the underground church, maybe I am not saving people in the Sudan, and maybe I am not saving all the animals in every animal shelter.... but <br />
<br />
I know that I am not perfect. I don't even always do the best I can. I am selfish. Sometimes I feel life isn't worth it. Sometimes I am not really listening.... and sometimes I fail....<br />
but this has always been my vision:<br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #990000;">The Sovereign LORD has given me an instructed tongue, to know the word that sustains the weary. He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being taught. The Sovereign LORD has opened my ears, and I have not been rebellious; I have not drawn back.</span></b><br />
<br />
and I may not always run a solid race to that goal, sometimes I am a sprinter... heck, sometimes I am a bench warmer... but I think the times I aspire to it count for something. <br />
<br />
It's not about doing everything... because for me, it's been a long, hard road to balance and learning that I CAN'T do everything, but it's about doing something. <br />
<br />
Keep in mind: <br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=3122026122047177864&postID=6715705346084767697" name="qt0376260"></a> <b><a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmltZGIuY29tL25hbWUvbm0wMDAwMTEzLw==">Lucy</a></b>: You give up your seat every day in the train. <br />
<b><a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmltZGIuY29tL25hbWUvbm0wMDAxMjUxLw==">Peter</a></b>: Well... But that's not heroic. <br />
<b><a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmltZGIuY29tL25hbWUvbm0wMDAwMTEzLw==">Lucy</a></b>: It is to the person who sits in it. <br />
<h1 style="font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Service is the rent we pay for being. It is the very purpose of life, and not something you do in your spare time."</span></h1><span style="font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold;"><br style="font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;" /><span style="font-family: Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"If you don't like the way the world is, you change it. You have an obligation to change it. You just do it one step at a time."</span></span><br />
<h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0pt;">-Marian Wright Edleman </h1><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-75069936811463683662010-04-09T22:12:00.000-05:002010-04-09T22:12:40.899-05:00There are places in this world that aren't made of stone<img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://x.myspace.com/images/spacer.gif" width="30" /> <!--- blog subject --> <br />
<!--- blog body --> my eyes flew open. i felt the overwhelming desire to look out my window and see ten inches of snow. which is weird because it's summer. it took me few seconds to convince myself that i wouldn't see any snow, find the snooze on my alarm, and talk myself out of the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. letting something go isn't easy... especially for me because don't let much of anything go.<br />
<br />
there is a problem with me. i'm a Dave Matthews' song sometimes... most of the time... i do everything just a little too much. the main thing being think. oh. and ruin things. i do that a lot, too. <br />
<br />
i guess that's human. we always want something that we can't have... want mountains to move just because we don't want to climb them.... want snow in the middle of summer. <br />
<br />
i went to visit a friend the other day. i walked into her beautiful house and sat down in the midst of the American Dream with 2.5 kids. .5 kept running up and down the stairs. We talked, i left, and i was sad. she has a house full of memories and stuff and love and dreams and kids and hope... and now cancer. and i really just think that sucks. <br />
<br />
i guess that's life. always handing out little surprises that turn out to be exactly the opposite of what we want... taking away the things that we desire... or never letting us have them in the first place. ruining everyone's lives and eating all of our steak. <br />
<br />
I think I am growing more cynical as each day passes. The disgust clouds my thoughts sometimes and I forget to do things like... well, look at the clouds. instead i look at friends behind bars, people hurting, and that damn animal shelter commercial. <br />
<br />
Do we never get what we want? Don't the good guys win? Won't anyone adopt that poor kitten? <br />
<br />
i don't know. i just know that i think i am losing faith... and hope has gone looking for itUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3122026122047177864.post-87010387518893981432010-04-09T21:32:00.000-05:002010-04-09T22:05:40.620-05:00Here goes nothing.So this is it. I am deciding to once and for all step out of my comfort zone, journals, and word documents and post my writing in this void we call the internet. I've always wanted to be an author, and I'm just thinking that this is the best way to do it. I don't have to pay a publicist, and I won't have to read rejection letters.... Rejection comments, maybe, but at least not letters.<br />
<br />
I don't really have a theme for this blog. I'm not cooking my way through Julia Child's cookbook or anything, but if I had to choose something, I think the theme of this blog is me. I recently got married, and my last name is Salmon now. So here is where I will post my day to days.... because I do, sometimes, feel that I am swimming upstream (and how fitting!), and I am floundering around stepping on broken toes, walking down lonely roads blundering my way through this life. <br />
<br />
So, I hope you enjoy every stumble, success, and random thought that may flow through my fingertips onto this blog which could potentially be my one and only magnum opus. (Or a big failure.)<br />
<br />
I am thinking I may post some of my previous private blogs just for the heck of it. Maybe you will enjoy them. Now--- I'm posting before I chicken out.... or salmon out, if salmon ever get scared.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1