Rue de la Pasta II

Rue, the neighbor/roommate to the constantly-boarding-me-couple of Browns is such a fun fab friend to spend time with while I'm in Lexington. He's always popping up with a glass of wine at opportune times like the end of the day when E and I get home. He's also amazing because he can always be counted on to whip up a delicious pasta.

Another great one was this past weekend and I highly recommend fart (that was a blog note from Jacob - Jacob recommends farts). I recommend Rue's pasta. It's easy! And delicious. This is an approximation.

Take a tablespoon of oil and heat it in a large skillet on med-low with two-three tablespoons of butter, then add about a tablespoon of minced garlic and a teaspoon of cayenne pepper flakes. Boil water for pasta of your choice. While the garlic and pepper are cooking a bit, you can throw in some chicken or shrimp as you like and cook until cooked through. I added a bit of white wine in mine and a couple of sliced up grape tomatoes at the end and cook until they're softened. Then when the pasta is done, toss it in the skillet until it's coated with the garlic and pepper. Plate it and top it with Parmesan cheese.

Fab! Not healthy but fab. (Rue's recipe was simple and epic - just the EVOO, butter, garlic and pepper topped with cheese. I only added meat because Jacob needs some meat and wine because trust me, it's better I cook with that wine than drink it based on the last time I did the opposite).

Cultural Observations

You may remember when I had to learn to communicate more effectively with a security guard at the Al Jimi mall in Al Ain. Well, last night, SP taught me a new lesson about knowing your audience.

When we walked up to the security checkpoint at Blossom to see Toby Keith for Phillip's birthday, we got held up with our lawn chairs, which were too tall to pass muster. We tried a couple of genuine pleas, we offered to leave them folded, and then SP (who had walked in with her husband and maneuvered her chair past the gates) walked up and like a champ communicated in a language they could understand:

"That chair is for me. Are you going to make me sit on the ground? Are you going to seriously take this chair away from a pregnant lady? C'mon man."

A bit of stalling, some exchanged glances and, eventually guilt. "Ok," they acquiesced. "But you have to name him after us. Thomas Richard."

"It's a girl," she said.

"What about Thomasina Richardina?"

It's not the only way to work...

but it's definitely the best!

Elisabeth, Rue and I hit up the poolside yesterday and while I was busy reading all kinds of laughably ridiculous propaganda about Lexington's water issues, Elisabeth was studying away for the Bar. Rue, perhaps smarter than both of us, just sat there and looked pretty. 

Flashback

Recently while working on a client project, I decided to enroll in a web-based tutorial to get up to speed on programming html emails. So I sat on my couch and logged in to the webinar.

As I listened to the muzak and calming voice telling me to remain on the line, the persistent beep beep beep beep beep of other users logging in took me right back to the days of pharma and daily, seemingly-hourly, teleconferences.

Even though I now work from home and freelance on a variable schedule, I had quite a flashback. I guess some things never change.

What I really want to know

Does anyone else love Rob&Big? I know it's not on the air anymore, but I love it, V loves it, my brother loves it...it's a great show, mostly because it's full of hijinks and wackiness - much like my beloved husband.

What does this have to do with me? Well, I was watching it today and Rob's parents come into town and the entire episode was dedicated to Rob trying to drive his mom crazy. He drives too fast, passes too much, says crap a lot, jumps off a tour bus, breaks the law by plastering city property with street team stickers, fakes an arrest and tries to make her cry by reading cheesy poetry.

So, what I really want to know is, am I destined to have a son who acts like this?

I'll answer my own question: have you ever met my husband? (or me?)

Home is where...

Just as Jacob and I got engaged nearly two years ago, his family experienced a bit of a material tragedy. I say material because no one was injured, but the family house burned in an accident. Though some of my darling's collection of mementos and a couple of Moroccan rugs were taken up in the blaze, the important things were spared, ie family members and the basic structure of the house. They moved out to a temporary apartment and then a rental house and eventually back into the reconstructed (and redesigned) home.

We have lived a parallel existence in a way. During the time that we were packed up and living abroad, they were packed up and living in temporary quarters. But now, they are unpacked and settled in and we are...still packed up.

I remember a card that someone got them posted on the fridge. It said,

Check out Curly Girl designs from The Good Life company for more designs like this!

As I paw through the next share of potential homes in our next destination town, I'm thinking about all the things that I'll be unpacking that might make our house more of a home - dishes (a set large enough for a dinner party), a waffle iron (that one's for the husband) for Saturday morning breakfasts, familiar furniture...but even more, I know I'll be taking my heart - oh, and my dog.

What I really want to know

There are so many questions out there that just pop into our heads. Questions of consequence, questions of, well...inconsequence. Lots of things about which I'm curious. This is part of the reason I know trivial facts and other things useless in daily life, but helpful in board games.

What I really want to know today is, how does Giada deLaurentiis, with all her gorgeous figure and hair and skin and eyes and lips, keep her fingernails clean while she cooks all that delicious food? She always has these gorgeously manicured chip-free fingernails that should be, in all fairness, discolored by garlic and splattered with parsley juice and full of tomato stains. How?

I can't even keep polish on for one day. Fail.

Pain in the neck

Well, we made it through a 12+ hour day of driving, riding and flying (sort of) at Cedar Point yesterday and the first thing I'll say is, HALLELUJAH, a day free of rain. I don't know if it was truly miracle weather and the clouds parted for family day or if it's just that we escaped the pocket of persistent cloudy raininess that hangs over the Fairlawn/Akron area. WHO CARES. Sun, الحمدلله!


It's a good thing we enjoyed it, though, because it's back to rainy with a neckache here. All those fantastic rides (and we did all of them - all the good ones anyway - twice) took me back to summers with the Sabatino family, our couple-day mini-vacations to theme parks and the family dares to do the next biggest ride or stunt or thrill. They took me back to being a kid in a way - and reminded me how much of an adult I am. 


Like I said, rainy with a neckache...we woke up this morning and looked at each other and said a collective, "ow." Ow for the neckache and backache, and bruised quads and cracking knees and sore feet. 


Oh, well. It was worth it. 

Time Machine

Tonight some of Jacob's siblings and cousins will arrive in (still-dreary) Northern Ohio on a trek toward fun and nostalgia. They're bedding down at our place, probably taking up just about every bit of floorspace in our tiny apartment in a squeeze reminiscent of camp time so that we can all trek further up north to glorious Sandusky in pursuit of amusement park time.

This kind of pilgrimage was yearly for me and the Sabatino clan as dad and I - and sometimes Michael - rode wild and mom waited patiently and we devoured horrible food, spun sugar and gallons of water. We haven't gone in years. There have been moves and marriages and time crunches.

But tomorrow, it's going to be time machine time. I'm putting on some shorts (rarely wear them) and chacos, slapping on the sunscreen and packing a small bag with zippers so I'm ready to ride...

ilovemywife.com

I'm so ridiculously spoiled. Spoiled by my sweet husband who is working so hard right now and still comes home and has the energy and good nature to have sweet dinners with me. Spoiled by his thoughtfulness in bringing home "Hot Lady" roses for me (they're hot pink) after driving around to four different Giant Eagles to find "good flowers," because the other ones didn't look good. Spoiled by the tiny little things like letters after we've been away from each other and naming our wireless network so that I think of him every time I get online. Thanks, love. And thanks, God.