When being A/R is totally helpful

So, not sure if you saw any of the photos from our recent road trip to Steamboat, but there are a lot of food-type pictures in there and those food-type pictures represent my A/R-ness at its most extreme.

See - Bubba and I are always working on how to make our trips *perfect*. It's a completely hopeless undertaking because we both know nothing will ever be *perfect*, mostly because we're both a little neurotic and like to bitch as a sport, but we strive for this perfection nonetheless.

Our ski trips are no exception.

Last year, while the snow was *perfect* and the accommodations were nearly *perfect* (shitty too-bouncy bed), there were a few things that were less than perfect. Like, the drive was a holy terror and shaved AT LEAST 14 years off my life (and I wasn't even driving) due to its complete and total icy and stormy shittiness and our nightly apres ski (Fruity Term Alert) meals were good but not Amazing.

And since we can't do fuck all about the weather (Although this time our drive was way easy. Thank you Mother Nature for sparing us your bitchiness.), we thought we'd try our hand at Amazing Food.

For us, Amazing Food to Be Enjoyed Post Ski Activities sounded a lot like:

BBQ Brisket & Beans
Smoked Pot Roast Soup
Super Scary Nachos
Grilled club sandwiches on home baked bread
Cajun meatloaf and mashed potatoes
Birthday Cinnamon Rolls with Orange Zest Frosting
WT Cherry pie
Bubba's Filthy Breakfast That I Do Not Eat

And then the obligatory daily cocktail hour that gets earlier and earlier in the day depending on how long it takes the sore muscles to cry out for mercy from the ski lift. For the record, Cocktail Time arrived at the lunch hour on Thursday AND Friday because we are wimps and/or boozers.

So, how does one go about securing the Amazing Food to Be Enjoyed Post Ski Activities Menu? One begins cooking her fingers to the bone in friggen December for the Jan-Feb trip and then shoving full one's freezer to its fullest capacity so that one can remove its entire contents into a cooler for the long haul across the western US, that's how.


You know I'm talking about me and cooking, right? Yes. Right.

So, to make real this dream of Amazing Food to Be Enjoyed Post Ski Activities, I began the baking/cooking/portioning/labeling/freezing process back over the holidays (remember those things? ew.) so that we could live our dreams of Amazing Food to Be Enjoyed Post Ski Activities in the snowy week of our ski fantasy at the end of January.

It takes a lot of dedication and combined insanity to bring a dream this gluttonous to fruition, dontchaknow. But it's worth it when I consider that I test-drove a lot of recipes and their freeze and reheatability for the benefit of myself and others.

At least this is how I'm justifying being so A/R and little piggyish, so just work with me.

The test drivers:

(Also, ignore the heinous dishware. It comes with the condo and we, apparently, do not share a taste for decor with the owners. Right down to the dishes that are too big to fit in the cabinets and weigh one hundred pounds each. Whatever.)

BBQ Brisket & Beans

Bubba set up the smoker with the sole purpose of creating smoked meats for this trip. Included in the smoke-a-thon were two briskets, a half dozen chicken breasts, a pan of beans, a pork shoulder and a pot roast. Bless this man.

After we sliced (and sampled) some of this goodness, I packaged/labeled/froze it for the express purpose of bringing it on this trip. To say it was *perfect* would be an understatement. I would say it was at least swoon worthy and I wouldn't have blamed Bubba for taking the brisket to bed with him and giving me the couch. It was just that good.

Smoked Pot Roast Soup

So, when the Day When Smoke Will Rise Again came, we threw a pot roast on there that had come as a gift from my folks' during the raiding of their chest freezer over the holidays.

This was not a mistake.

For one, smoked pot roast is a fine, fine thing (I'll post on this later. Promise.) and Vegetable Beef Soup made from smoked pot roast is, um, otherworldly? Pants-peeingly delicious? Extra nummy? I don't know. It's just real nice. And when you've spent the day slamming down snowy runs in zero degree temps (Ok, one day the board read 1 degree. Whoopy.) and you're wild animal hungry, this soup takes on metaphysical dimensions of goodness.

Also, there was salad.

Super Scary Nachos

These are only scary because this was an appetizer. Because we are ravenous beasts after skiing all day (or, in my case, 3/4 of the day because I'm a wuss) and need a snack to keep us from eating each other's limbs before dinnertime.

The guac poo swirl on top is the result of me squeezing it full-strength from the package. Sometimes pre-made is OK.

Grilled club sandwiches on home baked bread

I might be the last person on earth to make the No-Knead Bread, but I'll make up for it by baking it weekly until I die. If only so that I can relive this sandwich and soup experience. Really now, is there anything superior to a pimped out grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup on a frigid snowy day?

No. No, there is not.

Especially when your pimpiness comes in the form of turkey, bacon and home baked bread. Blah dow.

Also, there will likely be a future post where I show you all the bread-porny ways that we're loving on this bread. It's not right we love it so much.

Cajun meatloaf and mashed potatoes

I rolled the dice on this meatloaf recipe from Pioneer Woman instead of making my own tried-and-true recipe and I absolutely loved it to little tasty pieces. Bubba was kinda meh on it until we had it for Amazing Food to Be Enjoyed Post Ski Activities dinner with some mashed potatoes and bread. I will talk more about this meatloaf in a future post that will likely draw attention from the authorities given the amount of sexy talking I plan to do about meats and loaf and spiciness and sandwiching.

Birthday Cinnamon Rolls with Orange Zest Frosting

You're all familiar with these cinnamon rolls (also by Pioneer Woman because I'm a slut for her) by now and how I successfully froze the giant dough recipe into individual pan size doses for future use. Well, one of these doses came with us on vacay and baked up for Bubba's Birthday Breakfast under some of my special made frosting. It was special in the sense that it was the last frosting left in the WT can and I'd mixed in some orange zest before we left.

WT *can* be delicious.

WT Cherry pie

To continue with our WT theme (really, it is our whole life, but who's checking?) Bubba requested Birthday Cherry Pie. But since there aren't any cherries on the tree right now and when in the world will I have time to make a pie crust, we opted for the WT version.

Ingredients: 1 can of cherry pie filling, 1 package of frozen puff pastry dough
To make: Grease a cookie sheet, place one sheet of frozen dough on the sheet, pour pie filling on top, turn up the sides, put the other sheet on top, pinch the sides together, bake according to pastry dough instructions. Done. Go WT out on the couch in front of CNN.

Bubba's Filthy Breakfast That I Do Not Eat

He ate this two days in a row and it consists of one English muffin, two slices of cheddar cheese, a few slices of bacon and some type of cooked egg with a LOT of pepper. I do not eat this filthiness because I loathe plain eggs. However, he did make this for me without the egg and it was great. The egg is the filthy part. To me. Because I'm some kind of loser according to the egg-eating authorities of the world (Bubba).

And that concludes the Look at All The Food We Ate on Vacation post for February 2009. I realize it's probably mind-numbing and a little bit sickening, but this is how we live our lives as you well know so I don't expect a bunch of lip from the likes of you.

Instead, wouldn't you like to tell me your favorite vacation meal? What in the world do you break down and make when only AMAZING will do? I like to know so that maybe we can work it into a future vacation binge.

And in a future post, I will ask more questions and there will be an interview involved. I know you're intrigued.

Best thing I've ever heard.

So, the craft room's up. 

And apparently open for business.

But I can hardly be mad since Bubba, the owner of these fine shorts that sorely need ass-mending, also turned this nightmare...

Into this...

MAKE THE BULLSHIT GO AWAY. THAT IS MY WISH.

And since he is awesome and even though it's not even my birthday month anymore, away they went. To I do not care where.

But speaking of birthdays, I had one. In the country this time.

And I approve.

We actually use our dining room here. It's very grown up feeling when I'm making happy faces with my bacon which happened right after I took this photo.

So, if you ignore the WT neon ski fence placeholding for the forthcoming railing our hilarious contractor is building, you can maybe enjoy the future awesomeness of our patio table under this beautiful oak that will have twinkle lights or mini lanterns hanging from it. But you have to ignore the WT neon ski fence first. Good luck with that.

Our neighbors have chickens. 

Lots and lots of fluffy pants having chickens that do not yet know how much they like being cuddled. BUT THEY WILL KNOW.

Jada had her way with our neighbors' dogs' toys during our first visit to their house. Because she is a lady.

This is not our view. It's our neighbors' view. But it's a goodie and we will enjoy very much sitting on that lovely deck getting drunk for many weekends to come.

Also, these neighbors are British and they own a fryer and they make fucking "chips". YES. PLEASE. And then they do things like say, "Have a chip buttie!" And then I say,  "And just what the fuck is a chip buttie?" and they go, "Well, it's just this thing we Brits do where we butter some soft french bread and stick 'chips' in the middle and that's that." And I say, "YES. PLEASE."

And while we're on the subject of our hilarious and awesome neighbors who totally accept my foul mouth AND have chickens - here's the first container of eggs they gave us when we moved in. Except for the wee one there, which we were told was the first egg their chickens laid back in the day and "Look at how small it is compared to the eggs they lay now!" And while we held the eggs (CAREFULLY) and admired the difference, hilarious neighbor goes, "The chicken that laid that big egg there - she's got a cunt like a bucket." Yep. We're home.

Plus, Jada never wants to leave their deck, so there's that.

And did I mention that they make homemade fries all the time? Like, cut fresh from real potatoes and deep fried in an actual fryer? I FUCKING LOVE THESE PEOPLE.

Also, I love cooking actual meals again and eating them on actual dishes in our dining room that we're totally using in this house because why not? Also because it's the only place we have furniture on that floor, so it's either eat at the table or eat on the floor and I think I've covered how wretched the carpet is, so no.

And in case you don't know what a giant birthday cupcake looks like, here you go. My hairdresser is an hour and a half away now, but you know my ass is going up there regardless because this is what happens on my birthday at my hairdresser's.  

This is down the hill from our house and I'm sure there's a Jeff Foxworthy joke for this, but I refuse to make it. 

Much champagne was had in the name of my birthday. Plus chips. Always chips.

And ripping out of spaghetti mess cables wadded up not at all neatly by my side of the bed. EW. AWAY WITH BULLSHIT.

And face pinching. 

So that was my birthday, in a shell.

And now I'm going to go look at some farms in Germany for a week.

Even cleaned up my work boots for the trip because I can't be visiting their German farms in dirty boots covered in American filth now can I? No. Because I'm a lady. And also I refuse to pack dirty boots into a bag with my clothes. Ew. 

So much gardeningblahblahblah

Holding true to my gardeningblahblahblah promise, I'm here to tell you that the fava beans have met their end.

FUCK YEAH!

I mean, THAT IS GOOD because it means that the 2010 garden is almost, sort of, soon to be planted and growing and making me tomatoes just as soon as I can turn, test, amend and plant the soil.

Though that process is a little less FUCK YEAH than the eating of tomatoes because it involves math skills and patience, which are two things you well know I don't possess in any meaningful quantity.

I summon all my inner resources to complete this task every year and then I take a break from math and patience for the remainder of the year. Which you should know in case you're expecting me to listen gracefully while you explain your hernia procedure or request my help in calculating more than the tip on a dinner bill where there's more than two digits at any point beyond April 2010.

Though, you probably won't get much help from me now, but you knew that. I have to conserve my mental capacities! The garden requires it!

You understand.

Along with the fava massacre, there were two other momentous garden occasions this weekend which I will share with you now.

Momentous Garden Occasion #2: Potato planting

Yes, friends, we have decided to continue the WT theme from our hick front yard to the garden in back by adopting the Tire Method for potato growing.

Meaning, rather than planting potatoes in rows and then hilling them with soil when they require it like normal people, we instead fill a tire with soil, plant potatoes in there, and then when the potatoes sprout vines and grow up through that soil, we put another tire on top and fill that with soil through which the vines can grow. And on and on until we have a tower of potatoes and dirt looming at the back of the yard, further confirming how WT we are.

As though there's been a lot of doubt on the subject.

To accentuate the WTness of it all, I've dragged over a sprinkler line from the nearest bed and plugged it down in the center of the tire to provide automatic irrigation to the potatoes so that my lazy ass doesn't have to go dragging the hose all out there to do it by hand.

Because, water by hand? Oh, that's not going to happen.

So you know, I planted 2 red creamers, 2 gold creamers and 3 or 4 banana fingerling potatoes in that tire you see there, so we'll see how this goes since I don't know anything about growing potatoes. Experiment alert!

Momentous Gardening Occasion #3: Rain barrels

See, long ago, my Montana friend (as I call her to Bubba as though she and I have been BFF for a decade) Nici at digthischick, installed rain barrels at her place and I thought it was the coolest thing. I also thought, "I must have this now", and then proceeded to totally forget about it sort of while we were busy having our porch redone, relandscaping the backyard, putting in a patio and growing 200+ lbs of tomatoes.

But the thought has been back there. Loitering about, making trouble. Until a few weeks ago, when I bit the bullet and ordered my barrel and the diverter thing that, in no way, actually "goes with it" even though it appears to on the website.

Whatever. We made it work.

And then, just as Funny Contractor was finishing up our porch and putting the finishing touches on its facade, the barrel showed up with a label taped to the side and proceeded to highlight the generous proportions of the new concrete pad area ever so elegantly.

As you know, we're a class household, so this went very well with the new posts and paint and un-WTness of it all.

Thankfully, last Sunday morning I decided to take my morning brew on a walk over to the gutter's downspout in the pre-determined Future Rain Barrel site to "inspect" its integrity and figure out where the F I was going to put in this diverter creature.

And, as so often happens when I "inspect" things with the final thought of including them in a project, the project launches into action and, before I know it, I've lost my mug of tea in the shuffle and instead have a pocket full of sockets (band name, anyone?) and the stepladder - which I'm balancing precariously on half a concrete step and some really soft downspout moistened mud.

Yay.

And then, thankfully again, Bubba comes out to find out how come the house is so quiet and what the hell is that woman doing NOW, to find me teetering on the stepladder removing screws from the downspout bracing, with the parts for the diverter all splayed out on the back patio.

Being the smart, and incredibly wise and self-preserving, man that  he is - he offers up his help and then gracefully guides me through the diverter installation - all the while letting me feel like I'm doing it all by my tin snip wielding self. Which I can assure you, I am not.

I need this man. He keeps me from wrecking the house.

And, before long, one of our fabulous neighbors - who likely smelled snipped tin on the wind - showed up in our backyard with a new book for me (love her) and a demand to know how we could be putting in rain barrels without calling her first. She is an expert on the subject after all, since she's installed two on her house already, with a third waiting in the wings.

So, with the combined knowledge of a rain barrel-installing expert, one very handy man and caffeinated but mostly useless blonde (moi) - the rain barrel managed to get installed. And, because my fabulous neighbors continue on their quest to sainthood - I also received a second rain barrel for the water collecting efforts.

Because they had "an extra they weren't going to use". Again, so awesome these two.

I do hope they know we don't even have a will into which we could write them. *Eek*

Oh, and while this isn't quite so Momentous but rather just helpful - for any of you out there considering the repurposing of otherwise useless yard materials into an auto-filling birdbath, let me suggest an alternative sealing method to silicone gel: inner-tube scraps.

See, I'd had the birdbath all auto-filling since that weekend when I installed it, and I noticed that some water was leaking through the silicone seal into the surrounding landscaping.

Well, to be truthful, I just thought the dog was drinking the water for a while and chose to ignore the whole thing, but then I realized that was impossible because she hadn't been out there long enough to do that kind of drinking.

She's no boozer, this dog.

Anyway, when I came to terms with the fact that the seal was leaking and that, in order to fix it, I'd have to dismantle the whole thing, dry it out and take another go at it with the liquid sealant, I decided I needed a different approach.

So, in my truest form, I went out to the garage on the hunt for something like a rubber gasket. Except, we didn't have any rubber gaskets of proper size. And YOU KNOW I'm not pedaling off to the hardware store if I don't have to. So, instead I wandered the garage looking for something that fit the description of: thin rubber material, easily cut to size, preferably not the most important piece of whatever it lived in at that moment.

And, of course, my eyes fell on the ever useful busted bike inner-tubes just hanging around in the garage.

Perfect.

So - if you want to make this birdbath all watertight and what not - and you happen to have some busted inner-tubes laying about doing nothing - take your cutting device of choice, slice out 2, 2-3" chunks, open them up by slicing down one side of them vertically, then cut an X in each of them smaller than the diameter of your sprinkler nozzle spout (without the nozzle attached), slide one down over the nozzle spout and then push that through the hole you made in your birdbath bowl. Then slide the other over your nozzle (so that you have a layer of rubber below the spout and bowl and above the bowl and below the spout) and screw on the nozzle attachment.

Basically, you treat these two flat pieces of rubber inner-tube like ghetto gaskets that, when cinched down with the sprinkler nozzle, create a waterproof seal.

Not that the dog's going to stop drinking out of the fountain, but you get what I mean.

Enjoy all of that.

What the F I do with leftovers + PRIZE (not a leftover)

In case you didn't know, we smoked turkeys for Thanksgiving this year. And in case you didn't know, smoked turkey is delicious.

Like two pounds a person delicious.

Yeah, I know, no one ever eats two pounds of turkey on Thanksgiving. Two pounds of pie, fine - all the time, but not turkey. Because, let's face it, turkey only gets top billing because its famous dad paid off someone at the theater to put his name at the top of the playbill or something.

And I don't know why I just made a theater analogy since I never go to the theater, but sometimes you have to just go with what comes out. And wow. That sounds grody.

ANYWAY.

Even with this unprecedented turkey eating, there were still leftovers. Half a big foil pan's worth - including a couple of the pterodactyl legs. Feeling a bit rotund and also because my mom told us to, we left all the leftovers with her to feed the holiday guests (and props to those animals - it was gone in 24 hours) and went home to our demure little zippie bag of turkey shrapnel left from my maniacal carving.

Feeling a little stupid for dating the bag now, but whatever.

To be honest, I didn't think we'd even want the little zippie bag of Who Gives a Crap, but because I don't do waste, and this was all just sitting on the cutting board after I got done deconstructing those big boobs, I put it in a bag bound for the freezer with the thought that maybe one day I'd thaw it out and make the dog's day or something.

Certainly WE were not going to eat it. Pffft. Ew.

See, there's something about reheated turkey makes me...uh...gag. Sorry, I was gagging just thinking about it.

It's the grayness of turkey meat after a day in the fridge. And the weird gamey grody taste. And the smell. And the squishy gooshy sound of people tearing at the sandy rubbery leftover meat with their teeth. GAG. It's all those things and then something wiggly makes it into my sandwich and I have to contemplate suicide.

Anyway, if you haven't barfed yet, I'm here to tell you that when you smoke turkey rather than roast it - the reheated flavor, texture and smells are still heavenly. Because, duh, it's smoked. Which we all know is the best way to treat any meat of any kind.

So, it's now accepted in our house as a feasible leftover food item. As long as it's smoked.

But, it's not like I'm just going to slam it between a couple slices of bread with some mashed potatoes and stuffing or something (though, now that I think about it...) because that is too predictable and, well, we ate all the potatoes.

And, to be honest, I wasn't thinking about doing much with it at all, until I found myself with a dinner to make and very little inspiration coming from my Master Cookbook, which is my binder of mismatched recipes from the Internets and beyond.

Thankfully, Bubba suggested we use our tried and true what the F do we have for dinner method of dinner-deciding: What Do We Have That Needs To Go.

As in - do we have any vegetables on their last legs, a pile of frozen something, bread going stale, what have you.

This process has served us well, once again, and The Leftover Dinner That Will Live in Infamy was born. From smoked turkey shrapnel, the rest of a bag of frozen peas, a stray kohlrabi going bouncy, three small frozen pie crust remnants, an odd onion, some thyme from the diminishing herb garden, a couple carrots from the bottomless bag in the crisper and a can of chicken broth.

Can you guess what I made?

Hint: It would fit nicely in our Dinner from 1984 nights.

Turkey Pot Pie, y'all!

We are securing our place in WT America with this one.

Best part was - it was fucking awesome. Seriously! I've never made or eaten a turkey (or chicken for that matter) pot pie before because it always sounded nasty, but this was really fucking good.

For the record, I used Pioneer Woman's recipe, but left out the cream altogether, subbed kohlrabi for celery and used my own pie crust.

So - it was good for a lot of reasons but especially so since I got to make a crazy mirepoix with kohlrabi instead of celery and then patchwork blend three leftover pie crust remnants from pies of yore into a crust for an all new pie.

OK, so my mirepoix isn't perfect, but I haven't been through the Cordon Bleu yet.

The consistency was perfect. And so I took this photo. Even though this is a stupid looking photo.

You can see the patchworking in that it didn't all bake up the same. Good thing it tasted amazing.

And since we were already well into WT territory with this dinner, I hardly flinched when Bubba went back for seconds and *gasp* covered his second serving with shredded cheddar cheese.

We are SO trailer.

And while Jada was an enthusiastic cheerleader for the reanimation of the turkey, her experience with leftovers was more of the fabric persuasion.

She is so optimistic, our dog.

And in case I just lost you there, we've changed subjects and are now talking about a craft project.

A very important craft project.

From a very important craft book.

Which is the subject of today's previously mentioned prize.

You with me now? Thought you might be.

See, friends, I was a contributor to the recently released to rave reviews and much fanfare crafting book, One Yard Wonders.

Which you know because I shamelessly self-promote.

BUT - what you didn't know was that I'd had my eye on a project in that book from the time that some of the patterns were released to the press (ie. they were posted on Facebook by the publisher) and when I got my contributor's copy in the mail, I totally knew I was going to make that project On The Double.

And I did.

That project was the Cozy Dog Bed by Mary Richmond and, while I altered it to fit the size of my pooch so may have used a skoshe more fabric than a yard (Ms. Jada doesn't fit on one yard of fabric), it still came out excellent and my enjoyment of this book continues to grow.

And Jada's enjoyment of not lying on a squooshed out dog bed also continues to grow.

Even though I already loved it with all my heart because I'm in it. On, like page 113 where my project poses with a dog that's not Jada, but cute all the same. Even though a dog that looks just like that one totally wants to fight Jada at the park, but I don't think it's the breed, I think it's the owner, but YOU DON'T CARE, you just want a copy of this book, right?

Right.

I knew you were all whores. Fabulous, fabulous whores.

SO - when I said PRIZE way back at the beginning of this post, what I meant was a copy of One Yard Wonders. For someone randomly selected by the random name chooser thingee for leaving a comment.

That's all. Just a comment. Though you can feel free to swear, share leftover turkey recipes or list the top 3 movies you'd choose to miraculously have show up on your DVR for a day long crafting session. So, you know, you could listen to their familiar sounds in the background as you broke two needles in a row.

Not that this would happen while you use your One Yard Wonders book, though. Those patterns are super safe and tested.

Those other things can happen, though, when you're testing out new patterns with a too-small needle before realizing you should just use the fucking leather needles because why are you going to buy them and not use them? Good thing Sixteen Candles, Breakfast at Tiffany's and Earth Girls are Easy were all on the DVR to save you from scooping your eyes out with a soup ladle.

Anyway. Leave a comment by Thursday, 12/4. I'll choose a winner at random. I'll post the winner on Friday, 12/5. And then the super nice and awesome gal from Storey Publishing will send the winner a copy of this very awesome (and not only because I'm in it on page 113) new crafting book for your one yard using pleasures.

Good. Go.

Craft: along 2009 : July

Dear Donk,

There's no traffic on the freeway (well, let's say there's less), it's hot enough to inspire Bubba to install our attic fan (YES) and, whoopsy, there wasn't a lot of action in the Craft: along photo pool for June.

And so I believe this tells us that summer is here.

Summer is here and HELLO baking isn't as fun as it was, say, back in November when I was wearing all my clothes and trying to warm the house by any means necessary.

But, for those of you who did man up and bake - I bow to you. You are a strong people.

Particularly, NutsyCoco who worked through the Carrot Cake Cookie recipe without wavering and actually made the homemade frosting, which is I'm sure the thing that would have put my WT version over the top.

So, I'm lazy, we know this.

But - Nutsy - congrats! You're this month's Craft: along winner!

So, send me your home address (and full name, unless you want your mail arriving Attn: Nutsy Coco, which is fine by me, but you know) to finnyknitsATgmailDOTcom and I'll send you off your prize. I promise it will not include winter items like a snowman kit or anything.

I get it, y'all - summer = fun outside time not let's heat up the house with cookies time.

SO - for July, let's go with projects that are useful in the summer. Like, say, a Tshirt transformed into a swimsuit cover-up OR a quick knit summer scarf.

The deal with the Tshirt transformation is that you can transform a Tshirt into anything, for the purposes of our Craft:along (including a swimsuit cover-up) OR you can make a swimsuit cover-up from whatever materials you desire (including a Tshirt) for the purposes of Singer, our Craft:along and your own selfish needs.


The beauty is that you stand to win TWO prizes because Singer (you know, those folks that make all them fancy sewing dealies) is hosting a Swimsuit Cover-up Contest through 7/16/09 and you could win things like a sewing machine, dress form or MakerShed gift card by adding your project photos to their photo pool. And, you know, if you win our July Craft: along challenge, you could win, like, something else that's not any of those things.

Sound fun? I thought it would. And I'm about to do AIDS Walk SF again, so, you know, I'll have some extra shirts.

ALSO - don't forget - if you are feeling knitty, you could bang out a quick summer scarf for use in the office, in the event that you're about to go back to work from being on sabbatical for two months and GEEZ they keep your building like a goddamn ice box even though we're all super concerned about conserving resources.


I'm just saying that I've heard other people might work in similar conditions. Where you bring bunny slippers to work in July because as soon as it hits 80 degrees outside, the office goes all Alaskan tundra and shit.

So, yay! New projects for July and none of them involve turning on the oven. Just upload your final project photos to our pool by the end of the month if you want to win The Mystery Box* and to Singer's pool by 7/16/09 if you want to try to win that fancy ass machine.

xo
Finny

*While The Mystery Box could be anything, I will tell you it's not a boat. And if the people at Twentieth Century Fox weren't such outstanding douche bags, I could link to something that would explain what I mean.

Nevermind.

I do not resolve + cinnamon rolls

While ridiculous and counter-intuitive, I've considered not working out until February because I don't want to look like a New Year's resolutioner.

I have this thing where I imagine people will see me out running and go, oh look at that girl out running in all her new gear (which they'll assume because my running clothes never wear out - magic lycra!) when she's just going to give up and go home and eat a faceload of cinnamon rolls.

Because that would be 50% untrue and I will not have it.

Really though, I spent some serious time thinking of whether to put on ratty clothes to run on New Year's Day so that I wouldn't look like I was wearing clothes freshly unwrapped from Christmas. I considered ditching my tried-and-true cool weather running outfit of the past two+ years for cut-off sweats and a USMC tshirt so that I wouldn't look like I was wearing my special-for-New- Year's-Resolutioning outfit that had just arrived complete from Athleta.

Then I thought that might make me look EVEN MORE like a New Year's resolutioner because I was wearing clothes so obviously inappropriate for an outdoor workout in drizzly 40 degree weather and why would I do that if I weren't a New Year's resolutioner??

CONUNDRUM.

And then I just stopped being a crazy person, went for my run in my usual attire, saw almost not a single person for 7 miles and then came home to race Bubba to the middle of the pan of homemade cinnamon rolls.

Because my life is not My Life without stupendous irony.

If you could have smelled my kitchen. ..SWOON.

And today I went back to the gym after a few weeks off (the gym lives at work and I don't come to work when I'm on vacation, thankyouverymuch) and had a similar experience.

I got all ugh it's going to be so busy in there because now everyone has resolved to lose weight or get in shape and all they're going to do is steal the 10 lb weights for all of January even though I've been here three days a week for a year and need the 10 lbers. Jerks! for no reason.

Because when I got there, there were only the same old faces and a few new ones who wouldn't go anywhere near the free weights anyway because there aren't any instructions on them or those little pictures that tell you want body part you're working out with this machine. And since my gym clothes are nowhere near as fancy as my running clothes, I didn't get the did you just get that for Christmas looks from other gym-goers because who gets faded drawstring capris and Old Navy tank tops with holes on the hems for Christmas? No one, that's who.

So, the moral to this story is this - don't let me advise you on anything that requires sane reasoning because I've clearly veered off that path.

Also, you should make these cinnamon rolls if you have someone in your house who truly loves cinnamon rolls like my Bubba does because they are truly amazing.

We like canned frosting because we delightfully WT.

Do keep in mind, though, that this recipe makes 7 pans worth, so if you're not ready to bake a thousand rolls for New Year's breakfast, you can just parcel out the dough into 7 equal-ish sized portions and freeze for future use. Like, breakfast on January 3rd, 10th, 17th and so on.

This is only four portions because I don't know how to do fractions. And as I predicted, it doesn't matter.

I didn't realize this was a 7 pan recipe until I got to the 8 cups of flour part and was like, WTF? That's almost all of my flour! Why would it possibly need so much flour?

Oh. It is a holiday recipe intended to be baked and shared, one pan each, with neighbors. Isn't that nice. I guess I will just go about freezing some of this for later. And also I will go back to TJ's and get some more flour. And then I will stand back in amazement that someone is kind and generous enough with her time and flour to bake such things for her neighbors. Because as much as I bake and deliver goods to my neighbors, I've never done anything as amazing as these cinnamon rolls. That's heroic.

Oh, something else to note when making these is that you should make the dough and leave it to rise in a bigger pan than I did. Perhaps a 4+ quart sauce pan. Because this recipe in a 2.5 qt sauce pan does this on your stovetop:

This was right after Bubba said, "Babe - you're dough has gone over the wall." and I ignored him because I thought he was just being silly.

And then it does this in your fridge:

This was waiting for me after my run. I laughed for a long time before I cleaned it up. Yeast is funny.

Good news is that the dough's not super sticky, so it punches down right back in the pan like it never happened. Which is good because then you can enjoy your cinnamon rolls without having to explain why the fridge door is stuck closed. That'd be awkward.

This was from our second pan of rolls. They were better than the first, according to Bubba.