Mar 17, 2012 | From the Kitchen, This Life
Beef and cabbage and probably a beer.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
The holiday wouldn’t be complete without a little Beef and Cabbage. . . though, not Corned Beef because I just can’t bring myself to eat it. And interestingly enough, it’s not really an Irish tradition. Â So, I rolled up my sleeves and spent the afternoon making hand pies instead.
This is actually a German recipe called Bierocks. Â However, just about every culture seems to want to claim beef and cabbage! Since it’s St. Patrick’s Day, we won’t tell anyone and just go with it!
I’ve had the recipe since I was a teenager, but it’s been years since I’ve made it. These were a staple in the early years of our marriage: being one of the few foods I walked down the aisle knowing how to make. There’s a bit of nostalgia involved — which is probably why IZ was so willing to pass on tradition this year! Clearly, I’m not that Irish—and trust me, if you read the foot notes this will seem the least of my transgressions.
These tasty pies are a time commitment, but well worth the effort. The recipe makes 24 pies and you can easily freeze the left-overs for later! Make sure you have some yummy mustard for dipping, and yes, they are amazing with a “pint”.
Mar 5, 2012 | This Life
Hello Monday. We meet again.
It’s another Monday and I don’t really have a post. The flowers are pretty, no? IZ bought me roses and I plopped them in a vintage tin for Saturday night’s dinner because I’ve lost my floral foam. That’s confusing? Let me explain. You see, I had a bag of paints and floral foam that magically disappeared in the midst of the construction chaos. Floral foam, meant I could have put the flowers in a vintage ceramic piece, but since I couldn’t find it, I used a tea tin instead. Because glass vases are, glass vases.
You’re wishing you hadn’t asked.
I told you I didn’t have a post.
But for the record, vintage tea tins are not typically water proof. Learned that the hard way. Good thing my table is glass topped. Anyhow, if you use one as a vase, line it in a bit of plastic. I like zip lock bags. I just cut it to size and line the tin before filling with water. 😀
As for dinner, I earned all those carbs (IZ made Linguini with bolognese sauce) cleaning this house. Can I tell  you how hard it is to actually do that when your house is a construction mess? But I did. Most of the week, in fact.  Much to my shame, unfinished spaces don’t lend themselves to cleaning. So, I spent all day Saturday fixing what I could fix and generally disinfecting the place. IZ relented and put the door knobs on all the interior doors (work left undone by people with tool belts) I didn’t bother to rehang the art, but then we have to paint soon anyhow. And then I just took a deep breath and let our friends in—despite the fact none of the interior doors to the kitchen are actually finished and my carpets are destroyed.
Fortunately, our guests are good sports and focused on what was done and beautiful and had the good tact to pretend they didn’t see the rest. I think we’ll keep them. 😀
So this is another Monday post. I don’t know if I’ll be here tomorrow considering the day. But I’m guessing Wednesday should be an earful. Until then, go plop some roses in a tea tin and greet the week.
Feb 27, 2012 | This Life
I woke up to these  two sweet faces wishing me a Happy Birthday. My adorable (great) nephew’s grandmother made me a digital card with their photo in it. And of course I’m printing it out and hanging it in the studio for inspiration. It will be a wonder if Mireio doesn’t do a baby line eventually.
Feb 24, 2012 | This Life
Unvarnished
Finally. I’ve been lying about my age since my early 30’s. People would ask and I would reply, “Oh, I’m 42.” Â Lying up works, friends. It typically took a few minutes before people would realize that I was exaggerating. Some actually believed the ruse: “You look amazing for 42.” Yes, yes I did.
But all my fibbing has finally caught up to me. 42. Â This is me today. Basically unvarnished, save for a touch of mascara. I especially love the state of my hair in this photo, because those flyaways are with me always. This is how I really look. I’m rocking the thrift store plaid and yes, that’s cleavage. (the only upside to being 30 odd lbs over weight). Glamourous? No. Sexy? Hells yeah. I feel sexy because I’m discovering that sexy is a state of mind. I’m choosing it. (I think you should choose it too, because you can, you know!)
Here’s the thing, I’m not without faults. I do want to drop some lbs. I did it last year and then was undone by my grief over this house. So, I’d like to reclaim that victory. My skin isn’t what it used to be, but that’s just a really good excuse to splurge on moisturizer and pamper myself more. Â And let’s face it, I creak when I walk and I have a closet full of pretty shoes I’ll never wear again. However, other than the usual complaints (Um, what, food allergies?!?) I’m happy with me. Comfortable in my own skin. Â The stuff I need to work on is just that, not the definition of who I am. And certainly not the only description of me!
So, if you ask me how old I am, I’ll own up to it today. I’m 42. Which seems like a perfect number.
Feb 21, 2012 | A House A Home, This Life
New Porch Light. That tiny stripe matches the haint blue porch ceiling.
I took a break this weekend that turned into an even bigger blogging break. Did “not much”. Â And now, I’m paying for my slothfulness. I don’t have a post here, though I’m sure I can string together enough words to disguise it. We’re just sort of treading water at the moment. The weather and the paper work on the house and my ever expanding waistline have me questioning my sanity. Remember all that sunshine we had in January? Yeah, well, we’re paying for it now in damp, grey, wet, gloomy, I could go on with the adjectives weather. My soul is water logged.
Anyhow, I stumbled upon this photo I took during January’s snow and never posted. It’s pretty, no? There’s no real point in this, other than I love that light. It’s a tiny reminder of blue skies and prettier days that are sure to come back around again. Someday.
And who knows, maybe I’ll have found a point by then?
Feb 16, 2012 | This Life
Found this on Pinterest and then spent an hour looking for the original source. I can’t locate it. . . but if you know, please tell me!
A Little Romance:
I love Valentine’s Day. Always have, always will. Even when I was a love sick teenager pining for a boy who didn’t know I was alive, the day was a good day.
I’m blessed to be married to a Romantic. Yes, with a capital letter. IZ is a fan of the grand gesture (hello, favorite painting for my birthday). He covers holidays and birthdays and “events” with a lot of style. It doesn’t hurt that he’s an amazing chef. . . we eat well, and food is love in these parts. (It’s a Larsen thing, no lectures) I’m blessed and spoiled and thankful.
Then there’s the rest of the year. IZ would like you and me to believe that he has that covered too. That he is a master of the “little thing”. Those small tokens we tend to over-look because they become so much a part of our everyday life. In fact, he’d tell you everything he does is romantic by definition.
This is where we quibble. Our on going conversation looks like this:
IZ: “See, this is me being romantic. I brought in all the groceries from the car.”
Me: “Um. Thoughtful. YES. Romantic? I’m not sold, buddy. I mean, by that account, my doing laundry is romantic.”
IZ: “It is romantic. Being thoughtful is romantic.”
Me: “Well, it sure doesn’t feel romantic.”
He does this with every chore you can imagine. And often and our conversation is the same. I can’t help but think he’s pushing the definition. . . just a bit. But then I remember all those heady days of early marriage and wonder? Everything was romantic then. . .doing dishes and laundry and grocery shopping. Maybe it’s a time thing. Because what was once romantic in the early years, is, well, now a big old chore. An age thing? Holy Cow, an “I’m getting OLD” thing.
I can’t win here. So, is IZ right? Is it romantic because he says it is? Or is romance in the eye of the beholder? Because there are sure a lot of you who poo-poo Valentine’s Day and no amount of cheering on from my side of the field will change your mind. Valentine’s Day isn’t romantic to you.
And maybe that’s the catch and the solution. Maybe it’s about perspective. Maybe it’s about choice.
Those groceries unloaded from the car. Romantic.
Those mochas every day when I wake up? Romantic.
Door held, hands held, long talks, long walks, time spent together smiling and arguing. Romantic.
Laundry? Um, I can’t get there. But the rest of it, I’m willing to open my eyes and see the heart giving it all to me. And that, my friends, might be how you keep the romance alive.
Here’s an interesting article from USA Today on people who are “Intensely in love” after years of marriage. Worth a read, I think. . .
