Daily Travels and Things I Saw

Seriously, I know our world isn’t quite this sad. Although both scenes depicted images that could be interpreted as distasteful, sacrilegious and possibly disrespectful, I leave it to you to decide.

Me? I thought totally hilarious on both counts. Gotta love the creativity of the human race.

 

Totally dig this ride. You can’t see the detail – and although the windows are scary black, as in – can’t-see-inside-so-there-might-actually-BE-a-body-in-there black, I’m pretty sure this is a non-servicing Hearse. The center of the hub caps sport some pretty sweet skulls that I am sure would sparkle in the sun had it not been hidden behind the clouds. I hope I get to see this Hearse when the owner has finished his vision. I would call Pimp My Ride for this bad boy – oh yes I would.

Now seriously – how can you NOT laugh at this? On the side of  an overpass in Smiths Falls. Hey, we know who will prevail in the end, but it’s nice to know someone is pulling for the pigeons.

Date Night Gourmet – CHICKEN PAPRIKASH WITH NOKEDLI

Peter and I have decided we’re going to have a ‘gourmet’ night once a week. Now this doesn’t mean we’re trying to cook our way through Bon Appétit or anything snobby like that, but I did discover something about my husband that I didn’t know.

Peter and I were talking about cooking Hungarian Paprika chicken for dinner, and we went looking for the recipe in our recipe cupboard.

Do any of you have a cupboard, or a drawer, or a folder where you put all your recipes? The ones you tear from magazines or the newspaper – with those good intentions of trying them out some day?

Yes, ours is a cupboard. And in this cupboard is a blue binder. In this binder are about 200 pages of college-ruled notebook paper. On on this notepaper, front and back, painstakingly printed in efficient handwriting are recipes. Recipes for all kinds of meals, from all sort of places. Recipes that are alphabetized and cross-indexed and organized.

How had I been married to this guy for all these years and have never opened that binder? How did I not know that he’d gone through the trouble of collecting all these recipes?

Truthfully, this binder makes my Philly Cream Cheese box top recipes look rather pathetic.

When I asked Peter about the binder, he didn’t think it was such a big deal – but I did. He’d written all these recipes down after collecting them. He’d done it when he lived in Vancouver more than 20 years ago. He’d prepared a few recipes housed in this binder, but most were still untested.

And that’s when we decided. Time to test some recipes. And after we test them, we’ll share them with you.

Maybe you’d like to cook with your favourite person or people. The best part – besides the so-far-so-good gastrointestinal pleasure, is that Peter and I are having fun.

We’re not spending the money going out to eat. We’re buying more whole foods and such, which is better eating for all involved, and we’re connecting as only best friends can. With music, laughter and a shared passion for yummy food.

Below is the recipe for Hungarian Paprika Chicken. Try it and let us know how you like it!

Our recipe was prepared while we sipped red wine and listened to a Beatles retrospective on Chez 106. In the news that day was the guy on the plane with the bomb in his underwear.

That’s as snobby as we get.

CHICKEN PAPRIKASH WITH NOKEDLI (Worth every minute it took to make it – triple yummm score.)

Ingredients Needed (chicken):

• 6 whole chicken breasts
• 4 Tbsp butter
• 16 small white onions
• 1 cup chopped onions
• 1 Tbsp Hungarian Paprika
• 8 small carrots
• 2 cans (10.75 oz) chicken broth
• salt
• 1/3 cup flour
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 2 cups sour cream
• parsley

Ingredients Needed (nokedli):

• 2 3/4 cups flour
• 3 eggs
• 2 tbsp butter
• 1 cup water

1. Wash chicken; dry on paper towels. Cut each breast in half. brown chicken, 1/2 at a time in 2 tbsp butter in large skillet with tight-fitting cover. turning to brown well. Takes about 20 minutes in all. With tongs, lift out chicken as it browns.
2. Add 2 tbsp butter in same skillet, add whole and chopped onions with 1 Tbsp paprika until lightly browned. Cut carrots diagonally in 1 1/2” pieces. Add carrots to onions, sauté for 2 minutes, stir in undiluted chicken broth and 2 Tsp salt.
3. Arrange chicken in skillet in single layer, bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer covered for 45 minutes.
4. Once chicken is tender, remove from skillet and place on a platter, keeping it covered and warm in a 300 degrees oven while you make the Nokedli and gravy.
5. PREPARE NOKEDLI: In a large bowl – combine 2 3/4 cups flour, eggs, 1 tsp salt and 1 cup water. Beat with a spoon until smooth.
6. Boil 2 quarts of water with 2 teaspoons of salt (for boiling of Nokedli).
7. Using a moistened spatula, spread dough over the surface. Holding the spatula over the water, use a table knife to scrape off small portions of the dough into the boiling water. Cook 1 – 4 at a time until firm. When they are finished they rise to the top. Use a slotted spoon to remove. Keep them warm and add a small amount of butter. Repeat this process until you have all Nokedli (dumplings, really) made.
8. GRAVY: In a small bowl mix remaining flour with wine until smooth. Add to skillet, stir all liquid together while bringing to a boil. Reduce heat, simmer 2 minutes
9. Slowly add sour cream, heat gently for 1 minute.
10. Remove platter of chicken from oven.  Add Nokedli and pour gravy over all to taste. Add parsley for garnish. Bring extra gravy to the table. Serves 6.
11. You don’t want to know the nutritional contents. Really.

The Joys of People Watching

Have you ever found yourself getting caught up in watching people? Maybe you wonder what they’re thinking, what their lives are like, where they’re going and more importantly, why they’re dressed the way they are?

Most of you are saying…um…NO. Well, I love watching people. I blame it on my Mom. When we would go out for dinner and there was an inevitable wait, she would entertain us kids by pointing at a couple outside the window and asking “What do you suppose they are talking about out there?” And that’s how my people watching got started.

The stories we would create would have us laughing through the whole meal as our unsuspecting thespians carried on their business, which was, inevitably, not even close to the stories we painted for them.

In order to fully appreciate wandering humans, I must be out in public with nothing to do. Like waiting for someone to finish errands while you wait in the car.

Nobody knows I’m just sitting here in my car…watching them. People scurry through the parking lot, pretty much oblivious to everything except what’s on their shopping list. At least, that’s the safe thing to think.

I see plenty of friends wandering in and out of the store. I’m too lazy to get out and say hello, so instead I just wonder how they’re doing and make a quick mental list of people I need to catch up with. Beyond that, it’s more fun to pretend what strangers are thinking when they walk by.

Oh goodie, there’s a woman in her late fifties, wearing bright orange spandex pants and a halter top under her parka. Here’s what she’s might be thinking: “I’d better hurry or I’ll be late for my Vegas Revue. Must get more mascara and pasties, and check on my pole dancing class.”

See how easy it is?  That’s how it works.

There’s a lovely young man with a bouquet of flowers leaving the store. He wipes his brow and is talking to himself. Is he rehearsing an apology? A proposal? A request for a first date? The possibilities are endless, but I settle on the apology. It’s the middle of the day, after all. He probably stayed out too late playing poker, and really – what guy buys his woman flowers in the middle of the day for no reason at all?

There’s a harried father with two toddlers, one already pointing at the store, no doubt asking if she can hang out in the cereal or toy aisle. He’s contemplating it, but he’s also probably thinking his daughter will tell his wife when they get home, and that won’t be pretty. He pulls out the shopping list before he heads in through the noiseless sliding doors. He squares his shoulders like a man going off to war. His momma would be proud.

Sometimes, watching people is so entertaining that I’m almost disappointed when make-believe time is over. I didn’t even have a chance to think about the teenage couple holding hands, the gentleman that comes out with loads of soda cans, or the elderly lady getting out of the taxi.

The next time you’re waiting anywhere, make up your own story about the strangers walking by. Don’t be mean and judgemental, be creative. Strangers, if they notice you at all, will  be confused by the mysterious smile on your face…and that will be amusement enough.

Staying Young Has Nothing To Do With Miracle Creams

I think I’ve found the secret to staying young. And I don’t think it has much to do with lotions, potions, make up or plastic surgery.

Not long ago, I was near a Toys R Us. I was going in just to look, really, and possibly to pick up a gift for my nephew and niece in California. However, about thirty seconds after I walked through the door, I forgot all my dear little what’s-their-names and what child-like delight they would show at whatever gift I picked for them.

My eyes were drawn in all directions at once, which, let me tell you, causes a ridiculous eye strain. The colours were so bright, inviting you to touch, to want. The glitter and shine of the pinks and purples of the ‘girlie’ toys, the masculine blacks, reds and blues of the ‘boy’ toys all made me realize one thing.

It stinks to be a grown up.

I’d like to know who made the rules that say we’re not allowed to play with toys, not allowed to pretend after a certain age. Are you thinking “Nobody told me I couldn’t play with toys anymore…”?

Exactly. Somehow, we let an interest in the opposite sex take away our desire for the very things that made us laugh, stretched our imaginations, allowed incredible fantasies and made us forget about anything that made us sad as children.

Why don’t we do that now? For some reason, we adults change from toys to dates, to bars, to marriage, children, jobs, careers, other people…whatever. Simply said, we grow up.

Who makes the rules on when it’s time to grow up, anyway? Who says you can’t be an adult and still enjoy total reality abandonment like a child does? Like your children do?

Put down your cell phone, PDA, laptop, wallet, glass, newspaper and dinner preparations. Put them all down. Go to your child’s room, the attic or a toy store. Find a toy you used to love when you were a child. Smile at it and remember.

Remember what it was like to pick up your Barbies and immediately fall into their world. Find Ken and make it happen, ladies. Men, go find a Hot Wheels track, or build a fort under the dining room table. Make a tent out of your bed sheets and play doctor with your wife. Grab the pots and pans from the bottom drawers. Raise that wooden spoon and bring back the Racket Band that you used to love when you were in diapers.

Life is meant to be fun, to be enjoyed. Sure, there are responsibilities to be handled on a daily basis. But if we handle them, and then forget them for awhile while we play with the Easy Bake Oven or the Erector Sets….what’s the harm? Find a refrigerator box and climb in. It’s your world. Have fun with it.

Watch children for examples. They’ve got it down to an effortless

science. And, me – I’m working really hard on this and should be an expert in no time.

LiveJournal Tags: humour,life,children,toys,playing,growing old,childish,family,adult,stress busting,laughter,young at heart,jkm asylum,joyce menyasz

Rollercoaster Lovin'

Dear Readers: This column was published just after Nuria's departure back to Spain. Am I little behind in posting much? Or did I already post this one? Ugh! Getting old blows.

Nuria has only been gone a week, back to her home in Galicia, Spain. Peter and I still miss her like we've only just said our tearful goodbyes.

Really, it was only three weeks. How attached could we be?

Nuria phoned when she arrived home safely, seeming to have forgotten English. Apparently lack of sleep has that effect on the brain. I can barely speak English at the best of times, so I will always be impressed with our 17-year-old-four-language-speaking wonder.

I’m glad I don't have my own children, because any of them leaving would kill me outright.

Anyway, come back with me to Brockport, New York, after the soccer tournament . . . remember, Terry now has a GPS, so the cornfields no longer frighten us, and my Google Maps reading skills no longer frighten Peter.

Sunday afternoon, several of us in the group were on our way to Darien Lake theme park (a former Six Flags resort). Thanks to the GPS and Superkathy’s sense of direction from an actual map, the cornfields didn’t swallow us as Darien Lake rose out of the trees right smack in the middle of nowhere.

Peter and I have never ridden a roller coaster together (I know!). Even though Peter didn’t see the romantic implications as much as we tender-hearted women-folk, I was ready to cross roller-coaster-screaming-as-a-couple off my things-to-before-the-‘til-death-do-us-part-thing list.

You see, I love the coasters. LOVE them.

The weather was fully clouded over and a constant threat of rain. We didn’t care. The lines at the park were short, and it was still as humid as the deepest of rainforests. Oh, and the mosquitoes must know that Lanark County residents have sweeter blood, because there wasn’t ONE bug in all of that park.

I’m pretty sure that our tough-16-year-old-year-old-soccer-chicks were a little surprised (and hopefully suitably impressed) when after we all giggled right through the turnstile in our excitement to get to the first ride, I was asked if I’d ever been on a roller coaster before.

Pulleeeeze.

I gave them my most superior look and informed them that there wasn’t a roller coaster in California that hadn’t seen my backside on its seat or my hands up in the air (up until about 7 years ago, anyway).

But when they pointed to the ride where your feet dangled AND you turned upside down, I knew I was out of my realm of experience. So I started giggling like a little girl again.

Nuria pointed to another ‘ride’ that wasn’t much more than a steel cage bouncing about a hundred feet between the sky and the ground hanging by two giant rubber bands. If it hadn’t cost extra, I would’ve done it. That’s my only excuse. Really.

Ahem.

The foot-dangly ride called the Mind Eraser was the coolest. But ladies, don’t wear your earrings. I was seriously afraid that my ceratoid and jugular arteries were in peril as the backs of my earrings stabbed my neck repeatedly.

Oh, and that piercing, high-pitched shriek that you hear is not the ride coming apart, it’s your own scream, or that of your husband.

We tackled all the other rides with a fierce bravado. And roller coasters are just as thrilling as I remember, especially when you have your guy (or girl) next to you for a quick kiss or a hand-holding-scream.

The water slides were just as much fun, but I have a feeling all these mysterious bruises came from screaming down fibreglass tubes at 40 miles per hour. Might have to wear a protective bubble suit next time.

Check out all the exciting photos when you log into your Facebook account and add me as a friend.

Good Lord - Ain't this the sad truth?

 

However, if a hot cowboy say these things to a nice girl,  well then he's just a pig, isn't he?

Sigh, we just can't win. Long live the cowboy, the one we all know and love and hang our romantic dreams on.

Riverside Jam 2008, Oh What a Weekend!

This column was published in The Mississippi Weekender on Friday, August 8, 2008.

Ironically, Peter had a story publish on the front page, and my stories and pictures from Riverside Jam are all through the paper. It's pretty cool. Copies are being sent to California VIPS, or I can send on upon request.

The Canadian Edition (front page story) garnered my first autograph request. Too funny, and oh-so-surreal.

Gotta love fame in a small town.

Enjoy! - Be sure to scroll down for more stories, posts and pictures. Leave me a comment, dammit! I know you're reading! What do you think? What do you want me to write about?

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I could hardly believe my luck, but the evidence was laying around my neck.

Riverside Jam, 2008 All Access.

Sweet, fancy Moses, what fun I was going to have with my camera while I was backstage. Look out, country music stars, the paparazzi in Carleton Place is on the loose!

I’ve loved country music since I was a teenager (which, of course, wasn’t that long ago), so I was really looking forward to the 5^th annual music festival presented by the Diamond Foundation. The scheduled talent was phenomenal, and I couldn’t wait to scream and stomp my feet with the rest of the crowds as we swayed to the notes flowing from instruments played so many amazing musicians, including Gord Bamford, Tommy Cash, Lorrie Morgan and Mark Chesnutt.

Though the rain threatened at all times, garbage bag-wearing-umbrella-toting music lovers had already set their lawn chairs up in prime spots in front of the stage. Anticipation buzzed through the air.

Y101 introduced Ambush, and the Jam officially started.

There’s something about Ambush. They are so much fun to watch, to dance to. Maybe that’s why they’ve garnered a Canadian Country Music Association (CCMA) nod with an award nomination for Group or Duo of the year. And to most of us, they seem like friends.

Jason Blaine came after Ambush, a Pembroke man who has the recognition of his music peers as a talent on the rise. The only disappointment felt by most was that his handlers didn’t allow photos with the fans as they waited in line to meet him. However, Jason is cool. If you ever do get a chance to meet him, be sure to ask him how he came up with the song “My First Car”. It will remind you of your clutch-popping days for sure.

When I asked Blaine what his favourite part of playing a Riverside Jam type of venue was, he replied “Folks in small towns don’t just listen to country music, they live it. Those are my kind of people.” That’s why you’re our kind of people too, Mr. Blaine.

The skies opened up and the rain began falling hard and fast as Brad Johner took the stage. His pop-country sound revved the crowd until many were standing and dancing along with the music, rain be darned. Soon everyone was soaked.

Me? Of course I wasn’t prepared for any of it. My umbrella was too small, my camera bag NOT rain-proof. I forgot to charge the battery in the camera and I had no pen to take notes. Intrepid reporter, indeed.

Good thing the beer tent and the Mick Armitage band were close by to keep the good time going when the big stage was finished, or I might have been really angry with myself.

On Saturday, I asked a few concert-goers if the rain bothered them. Wiping a layer of wet off of the brim of his cowboy hat, one cowboy grinned and said “What rain?” Gotta love the constitution of country music lovers and rednecks.

Saturday night, after the supper break, my friend Tami Walls (who’d scored the other all-access pass because Peter was afraid all that country music would kill him) and I entered the back stage gate (because we could).

And who was standing right in front of us, waiting to start his show?

Gord Bamford.

So I walked right up and asked if I could have a few minutes after the show. He agreed with a big smile. Tami almost fainted.

Yeah, baby.

Gord Bamford and his band kicked up some high energy with their performance. The crowd was instantly involved and Gord was honoured with first standing ovation of the weekend. Gord and the band brought it to Lanark County and left the crowd dizzy from demanding more. Maybe that’s why they’ve garnered 15 CCMA award nominations this year.

As Lorrie played on, Bamford stayed after his show to meet his fans. The line was long and wound around the hundreds of lawn chairs back towards the beer tent. Gord stayed until he’d said hello to every last one of them and posed for as many pictures as his fans wanted.

Tami and I watched Lorrie Morgan take the stage and sing so many of our favourite songs in her sweet, sultry voice. But I kept my eye on the Y101 tent. The minute Gord said hello and goodbye to the last fan in line, it was my turn.

I was going to interview Gord Bamford.

Gulp.

Jammin’ by the Riverside, 2008

 Hi readers! most of you know that I was lucky enough to be given the features assignment for the 5th Annual Riverside Jam. This is the first article that appears in the Carleton Place Canadian. I will scan and post when I have the hard copy tomorrow. There are three articles in total.

This one is 'general overview'. All photos are taken by me.

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I could hardly believe my luck, but the evidence was hanging around my neck.

All Access. Riverside Jam 2008

A lover of country music since I was a teenager, I was really looking forward to the 5^th annual music festival presented by the Diamond Foundation. The line-up of talent was phenomenal, and I couldn’t wait to scream and stomp my feet with the rest of the crowds as we swayed to the talented notes flowing from their instruments

Ambush took the stage and brought an energetic show we are all used to seeing from them by now. Their talent and energy makes even the most proprietary of feet start moving. You just can’t help but dance to Ambush. Maybe that’s why they’ve garnered a Canadian Country Music Association (CCMA) nod with an award nomination for Group or Duo of the year.

Jason Blaine came after Ambush, a Pembroke man that has a CD and the recognition of his music peers as a man to watch. His voice is smooth and his lyrics catching. If you ever get a chance to meet him as I did, be sure to ask him how he came up with the song “My First Car”. But point your camera fast, because Blaine is a busy man and rarely stands still.

Brad Johner took the stage after Blaine. His pop-country sound revved the crowd until many were standing and dancing along with the music. It didn’t matter that the rain kept falling. We were wet, we were singing and dancing. We were having fun.

Saturday brought much of the same as far as weather goes. When asked if the rain bothered them, several concert-goers responded at once with “What rain?” Gotta love the constitution of country music lovers.

Local talent, the Mississippi Girls could indeed bring a tear to a glass eye with their perfect harmony. Along with so much more local talent, we should be so proud of our Canadian songsters. Canada truly rocks the country vibe.

Saturday night brought The Good Brothers, Gord Bamford and Lorrie Morgan. It was obvious that the fans choice was Gord Bamford (15 CCMA nominations this year). Even over Lorrie Morgan’s classic songs and sultry voice, Gord brought it to Lanark County and left the crowd dizzy from demanding more.

Sunday, the highlights were billed as The Bowes Brothers, Tommy Cash and Mark Chesnutt. But again, our local talent leaves its mark, from Johnny Spinks and Coolwater to Greg Hanna, you could barely catch your breath before more wonderful music hit your ears.

Tommy Cash did his brother Johnny proud. Mark Chesnutt sang his heart out and joked with the crowd, singing one after the other of his multitude of chart-topping hits. We sang along, loving every minute of it.

It’s a great thing that the Mick Armitage Band stayed around until 1:00 a.m. every night to allow us to continue our partying ways. When in Lanark County . . .

 

I Rock. That's All.

Okay, I rock because Guitar Hero told me I do. And so did the legions of screaming fans through the encore session of my latest concert, somewhere on the back of a big-rig truck. It was all so crazy rock-n-roll that I don’t remember where the concert was. But that’s okay, because tonight it will be another concert, another night of desperate, screaming groupies, clamouring for my rockin’ guitar abilities.

Ah, the life of a rock star.

Like the road of any musical genius, my path to superstardom started with guitar lessons that were not as easy as I thought they would be. But eventually (15 minutes), my fingers found the correct colour-coded chords to press, and my strumming hand managed to find its own rhythm. My instructor told me I was ready to start playing in a garage band, and maybe follow them around on their quest for fame.

It was an intimidating offer. Was I really ready? Did I have what it took? Gulp.

I accepted the offer. I donned my torn leathers, teased my hair and shined up my Gibson. I was as ready as I would ever be.

My first song in my first concert? Slow Ride, by Foghat.

I must say that the crowd was not very forgiving. After messing up the first 30 chords or so, those ungrateful fans booed me right off the stage.

Whatever.

Good thing my band members were more forgiving. Slow Ride, one more time please.

After being booed off three more times, I finally got it. 79% of chords hit. YEAH! I rock. What? That's like a C+, right?

But as the songs went on, I didn’t rock so much. Even though I was booed off the stage more times than I was congratulated on my guitar playing prowess, I soldiered on, and it was all worth it, when the final song was played, and the crowd wanted an encore.

That’s right. An encore. From me, the rock goddess. And I gave them one. A rockin’, shockin’, jumpin’, clappin’, throw your bra at me encore.

Oh yeah, I rock alright. When I finally put my guitar down for the night, I was exhausted. My arm hurt from strumming, my fingertips were sore from the guitar chords, but it was a fulfilled exhausted. Because. I. Rock.

Wait – did I tell you that was on the easy level? Doesn’t matter – I still ROCK. And I beat Slash. Who's the rock god now, huh? Huh?

Here’s the thing. It’s just not acceptable to let all the kids have the fun with video games. Although it’s not healthy to spend every spare moment trying to obtain the status of deity in a video game, it’s also not healthy to go all ‘adult’ and pretend you’re too old to enjoy playing one.

I am convinced that Guitar Hero is for our generation, not that of our kids. Go ahead, ask them – who is Foghat? Who is Cream, or Heart? Their blank stares alone should have you kicking them off Guitar Hero so you can show them how to really rock.

Promise me, parents. Promise me you will take just two minutes to try out some of these games that your kids love so much.

After all, we had to play outside when we were kids. We didn’t have this cool stuff. It’s your turn to zone out on the video games that you probably bought in the first place, while you kick the kids outside to study plant or highway life.

I wasn't the only one Dad told to go play on the highway, was I?

Have fun, parents. And don’t forget to get your ROCK ON!