Fennel deliciousness

I usually roast fennel with other vegetables to accompany chicken or turkey, but tried this the other night and it was delicious. The fennel retains more of its sharpness than with roasting or other longer cooking methods.

Ingredients:

Fennel bulbs, cut into wedges
Balsamic vinegar
Extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
Pepper

Directions:

1. Blanche the fennel wedges (Bring a pot of water to a rapid boil. Add the fennel wedges to the boiling water for 1 - 2 minutes; remove the fennel and place in a bowl of cold water to stop the cooking).



2. Place the fennel on a preheated grill for 2-3 minutes; turn wedges to grill all sides.



3. Remove fennel from the grill and arrange in a single layer on a dish or cookie sheet. Drizzle with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

If you really like fennel, we've also tried it raw in an orange and fennel salad which was also quite delicious.

I always save and freeze the fennel tops (the green stalks in the top of the picture) to use in a bouquet garni for soups and stocks.

Ahhh crafts.

This may come as a shock to you, but I--yes, I--am the creator of the ugliest angel ornament *EVER*.

I discovered it in a box of Christmas tree ornaments at my parents' house, as if to remind me--before I embarked on a stack of sewing projects I've been planning--why I *DO NOT SEW*. See the fine craftsmanship? I especially love that the floral pattern is going sideways. The random sequin detail is also nice, as is the jingle bell belt accessory I've given her. And the gold rick-rack halo.

To underscore my absolute sewing genious, I also found this gorgeous miniature snowman pillow.

You will note the beautifully raw edge--on *top* mind you--which I clearly did not feel like stitching by hand.

Which is why I work with paper and glue.

Just call me Grace

Thanksgiving was fairly mundane, as expected. We ventured up the road to Crofton--where Keith's aunt (his mother's identical twin)lives with her family--to attend the traditional Thanksgiving all-you-can-eat buffet for 30, complete with monkey bread and turducken.

To balance things out, we had decided to spend Friday afternoon at my parents' house with my parents, my brother and the cats, Chrissy and Eeyore, to decorate for Christmas and enjoy a delicious turkey and roasted vegetable pot pie that I put together. All in all, Friday was great, particularly without all the small CHILdren swooping in on you from all angles.

The day was effectively punctuated when I slipped in my socks trying to walk down the wooden steps and fell on my butt some three steps below, seriously bruising my arm (of all things) and scaring the wits out of my parents' as-if-she-wasn't-skittish-enough cat, Chrissy, as I came flying down the steps toward her and landing with what I'm sure was a fairly loud *thud*. She now refuses to come near me.

All I recall is that one moment I was walking happily down the stairs eating a homemade cinnamon roll, and the next I was sitting on the landing, my cinnamon roll in three separate pieces on the floor and everything hurt. It must have been one of those scary/funny things to watch--Keith and Shawn saw the *whole* thing--when you want to laugh because watching people fall on their butts is pretty damn funny, but only if they aren't seriously hurt.

I managed to not break my tailbone, thanks to my amazing put-out-the-arm-to-bear-the-full-weight-of-my-falling-body reflex, as well as all that extra post-marital squishiness, which left me with a sore tailbone, a slightly bruised lower back and a massive contusion on the side of my forearm, just above my elbow.

Once I realized I was not broken, albeit effectively embarrassed, it was neccessary for me to communicate this with the rest of the family who waited in suspense for either screams of pain or hysterical laughter. All I could think of was to complain about the next worst thing: "Ohhh, I dropped my cinnamon roll."

I had a similar bruise earlier this year, after having driven the side of my leg just above my knee into the corner of the cedar hope chest that has always been at the end of the bed. I run into this hope chest quite often, and am accustomed to small bruises on the outside of either knee, however, that one time I managed to sort of really lean into it and ended up with a four inch wide black bruise on my leg. Sexy. So at least I knew what to expect this time around, and have carefully tracked the development of my latest giant bruise with a colorful diagram. Because I know you're just *dying* to know.

Purpose and purposelessness III

We're nearing the end of the calendar year for the umpteen-billionth time, which means it's time once again to think about the purpose and purposelessness of our lives. It's also time to start another blog. So I pulled out my current list of short-term life goals and began to evaluate which item to tackle next:

1. Run a marathon (26.2 miles), or be capable of it, by the time I reach the age of 26.2 on December 31, 2008
2. Get a little pineapple tattoo
3. PASS THE PRAXIS II

And I've decided on number 1: run a marathon by the end of next year. And to help me get there, I've started The Sarahthon, a blog that will essentially focus on how insane I must be.

You might be wondering why I don't just get the little pineapple tattoo and be done with it--that must have been the easiest thing on the list right?!?! However, the time and energy I must expend to convince my husband that it's a good idea makes marathon training look easy. Heck, it might even help. And then I can start biathlon training.

What makes me want to cry

I read this on the Nike Running blog:

"Thanksgiving dinner comes to 3358 calories. Run a marathon and burn about 3350 calories."

ARE YOU *KIDDING* ME?!!?

(DAAAGGHHH!) UNTITLED

I realized that I still have to decide what class(es) I'm going to take in the winter/spring. And I just don't know. Well shoot.

I also find myself wishing that Thanksgiving would just get over with already. This is perhaps because I find Thanksgiving to be at once both the most stressful and the most boring holiday of the year. Which itself perhaps has something to do with (a) having to decide how on earth we are going to see everyone on the planet, drive the length of the state four and a half times and eat three identical turkey dinners successively throughout the day, (b) that this decision-making process begins in September and (c) that Keith almost always leaves the decision up to my Libra self. You see, Libras are notoriously indecisive--because they are so fair and balanced and want to make everyone happy, and therefore are incapable of making decisions out of absolute fear that the wrong decision will create turmoil in their lives and possibly cause the Earth to explode. Personally, I find it quite difficult to register for classes or make solid Thanksgiving plans when the fate of the world is at stake.

I'm exaggerating slightly of course. But that's what it feels like, at least in anticipation. To which Curtis said, "That's why we'll be on our honeymoon for Thanksgiving," referring of course to his impending nuptials. To which I say Curtis wins the Smartest Man of the Month Award. And the sooner Thanksgiving is over, the sooner I can start going bananas over where to put the stupid Christmas tree because I did not take that into account when I rearranged the living room.

Anyway I've managed to come up with a graph of just how screwed up my mind has been over the last 3-1/2 years, because--you know--somehow plotting it out makes me feel *less* neurotic.

Hot chocolate & Pottery Barn

For me, the holiday season officially starts when Daylight Savings Time ends, ushering in the depressingness of spending every daylight hour locked in my office, trapped under cold fluorescent lighting, my retinas seared by the phosphorescent glow of my computer screens. I drive home with the headlights on, check the mailbox by what little bit of light is left as the sun dips below the horizon, go inside, turn on the heat and settle down in just the right spot on the couch with a fresh Pottery Barn catalog--the holiday issue--and a mug of hot chocolate. Ahhh. The greatest joys in life really are *that* simple. :)