A Fine Frenzy - Almost Lover

Fighting the urge for....

The KINDLE.   Those who know me...yup...the dark side is tempting me.

I love books...TRADITIONAL books.  Creased paper, ink, the smell, the blessed tactile feel of its pages and cover as I crack it open the first time, and the way it looks on my shelf (well actually shelves, LOTS of shelves).

But one can't help but wonder...what it would be like to carry all of them, your whole blasted library with you...until you drop it, step on it, or have to face the terrible fate that all nifty gadgets succumb to at one time or the other...glitch for no reason.  Then I'll spend more time trying to fix the problem than read its content.  Also, I'll have to replace it with the Kindle 4th, 5th, and 6th generation as time goes by.  Yeesh!

But still....

All I want for Christmas....for now

I'm addicted to British Mysteries:  31 hours of bliss!

ACCENTUATE THE POSITIVE ~ Johnny Mercer & The Pied Pipers .wmv

Sometimes it's hard to determine what will make you truly happy.  I hope I find it soon.

Cooking...not my favorite thing, maybe one day I'll enjoy the process.

BLACKENED SHRIMP

1 lb. shrimp, shelled & deveined 1/2 c. oil 6 cloves garlic 2-3 tbsp. Blackened Seasoning 1 lb. shrimp, shelled & deveined 1/4 lb. of melted butter 1/2 c. oil 6 cloves garlic 2-3 tbsp. Blackened Seasoning Put seasoning and garlic in  a small bowl. Dredge shrimp through the mixture. Place a large skillet over a very high heat, and melt the butter. Place the shrimp in the skillet and turn heat down to medium. Cook on both sides for approximately 7 minutes (maybe less) each- pay attention to the shrimp as they cook quickly; when the shrimp curl, they are done. Optional – sprinkle the vegetables with the spice mix and sauté in the butter in the same skillet.

Should be easy right?   Read on...


I will be the first to admit that cooking is not in my repertoire of skills I excel at very well.  It's not that I haven't tried, more like it just is not meant to be.  Growing up, my mother made sure meals were always on the table, ready to be devoured by her always hungry brood.  These delectable dishes made their appearance without much help from my father, brother, or myself because mother liked the sanctuary of her kitchen undisturbed by any of us.

One of my favorite dishes was her blackened shrimp.  When I moved out and got my first apartment, I was determined at twenty-two to finally conquer the mystery of cooking this dish, my favorite one since I was ten.  I was living two states away and wouldn't be enjoying those spicy, melt-in-your-mouth morsels anytime soon.

Wandering through the grocery store, my excitement was building to a fevered pitch as I placed ingredient after ingredient in my cart.  Even though this was my first attempt at cooking it, my over confidence in my abilities led me to invite my boyfriend, Adam over to enjoy the meal.

“You’ll be eating good tonight,” I promised.

 “Okay,” he responded, reluctantly.  

I couldn’t blame him– memories of the last time I burned, I mean cooked dinner were still fresh in both our minds. 

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him.  “It’s my mother’s recipe.” 

“Okay,” he said again, more positively since having tried her cooking at Thanksgiving the year before, indelibly left a pleasant culinary imprint in his mind. They had much in common because the kitchen was Adam’s friend too since his cooking rivaled my mother’s at times.  His mother had taught him well.

I worked quickly to clean the shrimp and yummy spices were mixed in a bowl until the smell permeated the air causing me to sneeze a good ten minutes.  Definitely a good sign, I thought to myself, as I mixed the shrimp into the bowl.

Adam arrived just as the large black iron skillet, my mother gave me when I left, was hot and steaming.  I smiled at him as I emptied the bowl slowly and spreading the shrimp in a single layer.  “Seven minutes on each side,” my mother’s voice magically whispered in my ear, as I carefully made sure I didn’t flip them too soon.

The little smoke at first did not alarm me.  I figured a little smoke was normal, but certainly not a thick, dark blanket of smoke that overtook my kitchen in a matter of seconds.  Adam, whom was relaxing on the sofa, beer in hand heard my squeal and immediately burst into the kitchen and opened the front door to let the smoke out.   

Living in a high rise, the smoke went into the hall and set off the main fire alarm in the whole building.  The state-of-the-art alarm system, complete with an automated voice, directed people outside as the security guard made his way to my floor and finally my opened door with smoke still pouring outside. 

“Everything okay?” he shouted over the alarm, the resident manager wanting a status update yelled over the walkie talkie the guard held in his hand.

“I was cooking,” I said, my face red with embarrassment. 

“Cooking, huh? Smells good despite the black smoke,” he smiled, obviously feeling sorry for me and thankful it was nothing more serious.  “She was cooking,” he yelled into the walkie talkie, as the alarm shut off soon after. 

“Tell her not to do it again,” the resident manager responded.

Closing the door, Adam tried not to laugh and held me.  “I can’t even cook a simple shrimp dish!”  I cried, frustrated at the thought of having to live on microwave dinners for the rest of my life.  

“Don’t worry, that’s what I’m here for.”  Adam said soothingly.  “How about I do the cooking from now on? And you do the dishes.”     

“Deal.” I agreed, relieved.

Years later, Adam still does most of the cooking.  I feel blessed at having such patient husband whose friendship with the kitchen has flourished.  He is always experimenting with new dishes and refining old ones.  

I brave the kitchen and cook from time to time, the few dishes turn out quite well and thankfully I am not setting off anymore fire alarms.

When I do cook, my husband requests one dish in particular...blackened shrimp.

"Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail."  


Ralph Waldo Emerson

Stereotyping in the Gated Community

People say that stereotyping is unfair.  I've come to realize that stereotypes are there for a reason, and for the most part, are based on some truth.  Take any neighborhood.  You will always have those fascinating cast of characters that one comes to expect:  the gossip, the tramp, the old crazy neighbor, etc,.  I almost feel I'm watching (or more like living) a remake of "The Burbs" with Tom Hanks.

For me, I live in a gated community.  No...I am not uber-rich, those are the people that live in the gigantic mansions on the golf course when you first pass through security.  I live in the back where the townhouses are lined up in a cute rows that form a square.  And yes, I'm just grateful to have a home.

That being said, the only thing that I hate is the feeling that people are always in your face, even if there are not there physically in front of you.  You can just feel them staring at you when you get out of the car, when you go to the car, when you stand outside your front door, or even just when you are trying to make that little square of grass allotted to you into some semblance of a garden, they are there...watching.

And you know that while watching you, they are speculating on what you do, who you are dating, how many people you're sleeping with by the number of "guests" you have parked in the parking lot (thankfully, I don't have that problem since I'm married) but I'm sure they find something to speculate about my husband or myself when they see us.

Our little square is really like a small town: you got the gossip (the little old lady whose husband works in the days, so being retired, herself, she has nothing better to do that to observe her neighbors and spread what she's learned to others in the neighborhood; by the way, don't tell her you're going out of town or the WHOLE square will know and alert their burglar friends); the white-trash family (please remove the garbage in the front yard and stop yelling at your eight kids at the top of your lungs); the token minority family (and BEFORE you email me that I'm racist or anything.  I'm just making an OBSERVATION!) the temptress who sashays around the square flipping her long, naturally curly hair and feels the need to talk to ALL the men and ignore the women; the odd woman, I call her "Loopy Lucy," who walks around STARING at all the houses or you, if your out and NEVER says anything, who also likes to wear long white dresses, even now that it's fall (and who probably lives with 50 cats and has buried her husband in the basement), the two couples that are the best of friends living side by side, but are probably sleeping with one another spouses ( because they're reliving the 70's and are swingers) and you think this because of how friendly they are to each other, and finally the nice young couple who recently had a baby, but still feel the stigma of not being married and living in sin even though it's 2010.  (I have surmised that this stigma still exists due do to the little old lady informing me when I was watering my roses that the girl was expecting and "she's not married!" stressing the "not married")

All of this makes me wonder what they say about us.  My husband leaves for work, comes home, and jogs around the neighborhood.  Pretty boring.  We never yell or fight (or at least loud enough for people to hear), I work from home, so my car is always outside (that probably REALLY throws them off!)  We have a nice little garden, keep to ourselves, and are polite when spoken to.  Hmmm. Who knows, the old lady has probably told them she's seen our picture on "America's Most Wanted"  (No, we are not wanted!)

Recently, I told my husband I want to move to Alaska next year.

Can't wait!!

I've learned that I'm still a procrastinator.  Darn!  Week 1 of Nanowrimo is over.  After all my planning and preparation to stay on top of the 1667 words per day goal- I am only just over 2000 total.  I know...I know...bad, bad girl!

I think my fear is holding me back.  The fear that I might fail at this endeavor, but more likely, its the fear of success.  I might actually finish something that is different that I've ever written under my usually carefully controlled methods of writing that I have incorporated into my life.

Just let go, K.D and enjoy the ride!

National Novel Writing Month...Yeah

I have embarked on my novel writing journey for Nanowrimo!  I'm so excited and exhausted...and it's ONLY Day 2!  Oh well, I've never loved a reason for being exhausted more.

Also...I'm doing Robert Lee Brewer's PAD Challenge at the same time.


I know..... CRAZY!  Good Luck to all writers this month and always!