Tag Archive: kitchen


So, I went out on the town with a couple girlfriends last weekend. It was the first time I did something social on the weekend in a month. I’m not kidding.

Oh, except for the weekend before, when the two other legs of the tripod came to my house and we stayed in and watched movies in our jammies.

Anyway.

For this night out, I made jello shots. It was the first time since junior year of college that I had anything to do with jello shots. I think a few years apart did some good. I wasn’t as irresponsible this time as I was when I was 20 years old. Well, irresponsible in the sense that I didn’t black out and throw up for two days.  There was no blacking out nor was there vomit this time. Just other… less-than-wise decisions were made.

I’m putting last Saturday night in the win column.

It seems that the only things I can successfully create in the kitchen are alcohol-related.

Without further ado…

ZOMG Yum!

  • 6 ounces of Jello (the big box!)
  • 16 ounces boiling water
  • 6 ounces cold water
  • 10 ounces alcohol

I used Bacardi Razz, obviously, to go with my raspberry jello but you can use whatever flavor jello and kind of alcohol you like!

The first thing I did was boil some water. I didn’t watch the pot the whole time, though, because we all know a watched pot never boils. (hahaha)

Then I poured the boiling water into a big measuring cup.

Next, I dissolved the jello dust into the boiling water.

Once the jello was completely dissolved, I poured in the cold water and my alcohol of choice.

PRETTY!!!

While the water was boiling, I set up the little cups the mixture was going to be going into.

I used the smallest little Dixie cups I could find. I put them in a cake pan type thingy to keep them all in one place and to cut down on the mess I was inevitably going to make.

I filled each cup a little less than half-full.

Told you I’m a mess-maker.

It was after this that I realized that using a ladle would be way easier.

This proved to be much easier. And less messy.

Once all of this alcoholic liquid was poured (or ladled) into the tiny cups, I was done! It was time to refrigerate those little babies.

pretty!!!!

I didn’t remember to get (attractive) pictures of them when we were consuming them. I did, however, manage to snipe a pic of Chiefy for you. He has a weird thing happening with his eyes, so we can pretend that it’s because he’s drunk/hungover even though it was mostly that I woke him up from a little catnap because he looked too cute for words all curled up on his blankie.

how cute is he!?!? Crazy eyes and all!

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I didn’t make any resolutions for the New Year. I never do.

But something I do want to work on is learning how to cook.  My mom’s a really great cook and I really love The Pioneer Woman and she cooks.  I feel like it’s something I should learn to do.

I also don’t think I can get away with being a terrible cook my whole life.

Perhaps it’s not that I’m a bad cook, it’s just that I don’t cook. And lately, every time I attempt to do anything in the kitchen, I might as well just put money in the trash or light it on fire.  Either way, it’s a waste.

Well, friends, I’m about to work on that.  I’ll be fending for myself for almost two weeks and that means that I asked my mom a fuck-ton of questions on how to prepare food.  I have a feeling I’ll probably try to bite off more than I can chew and end up setting the kitchen on fire. That, or I’ll just end up eating cereal and cheese for two weeks.

I can’t be a baby forever, I guess.

Oh, and on an unrelated note, I had a complete nerd-alert moment last week.  I gave two grammar lessons on split infinitives. Each time, it was like I might as well have been talking to a pile of sweaters. I only mean that both parties were neither excited to learn about split infinitives nor were they particularly impressed with my knowledge of split infinitives.  Talking to a pile of sweaters would have elicited the same response: silence.

Now, split infinitives really aren’t a big deal. In fact, they’re not frowned upon like they used to be. But I encountered one in the group project I was working on last week for my finance class.  In one of the sections of our paper that one of my group members had written, I found one. I saw it and was like, oh heeeellllllll nahhhh.

So I changed that shit.

But the cherry on top of this story is that the next day, after I had provided my co-worker with a grammar lesson on split infinitives, I was watching Peter Pan. At the end, Captain Hook is surprised by something Peter does and shouts an exclamation.  Can you guess what his exclamation was?

“Split my infinitives!”

Ohhhhh yeahhhh.

I’m using that from now on.

Hey y’all!

(I wish I could get away with saying that. But, alas, I am not southern. Sad face for me.)

So I was originally going to write an open letter to my brother because I had to move some of his belongings today and I was outraged by the amount of clothing he has and felt inspired to write him hate mail. I also would have included in that letter (albeit totally inappropriate and unnecessary to include in a letter to one’s baby brother) that I totally wore the wrong bra today to be running up and down stairs as bouncily as I did today. Upsetting. Anyway. Luckily for him, the drive from the old house to the new house is long enough that my ADD and rapid-fire thoughts kicked in and made me think of an awesomer idea.

Remember how I said I would post pictures of the new house? Well, I remembered that too. So I hunted down the camera and plugged the little memory card into my ‘puter.  And I had forgotten about some of the pictures I took. Like this gem:

bahaha she looks SO good!

I also found this one:

Oh heyyyyy beautiful kitchen!

So yeah, lovely pictures, right?! I know!

I did something better though. Anyone who enjoys people making an ass of themselves will enjoy what I did. I did a house tour, like I was on some ghetto, super low-budget, one shakey-as-fuck camera version of MTV Cribs. If you have motion sickness (like me) you probably shouldn’t watch it because I can’t hold a camera stead y to save my life, apparently. That’s fine, though, because I have other important life skills. Like, … uhm, well, crap! I know I have some…!? I’ll have to think of those later.

Anyway, here it is, lovelies!

You should probably leave a comment with your thoughts on my terrible cinematography skills AND (/or?!) what you think of the new house! Or, if you can think of any important life skills I possess, that would be glorious! 🙂

I realized I haven’t talked about Grandma in a while.

This is mostly because I’ve spent a ton of time at HomeHome this summer, at least since classes ended at the beginning of August.

Classes are starting this week. Boo 😦 RIP Summer 2010. So I’ll undoubtedly be spending more of my free time at Grandma’s again. In the meantime, here’s a classic tale of one of Grandma’s idiosyncrasies.

Every night, Grandma and I sit down to have dinner at 7 o’clock. We sit at the small-ish round, glass table in the kitchen because the dining room is too fancy and too large for just two people.  I generally sit down first, at my usual place at the table, where Grandma has set my place with a red place mat and her white porcelain dishes. There’s always a glass of milk sitting at my place beside a small lettuce salad or bowl of fruit, because you have to have a vegetable or fruit at every meal. When I take my seat, Grandma looks over the table and asks aloud, “What am I forgetting?”  I no longer respond to this question because the answer is always “Nothing, looks like everything’s here” and she usually just ignores it anyway.

She then makes some disparaging comment, like “well, this doesn’t look as good as the food your mother cooks, but it’ll be juuuuust the way we like it!”  or something like “I tried to work the grill again; that was a job Grandpa usually did…” when, in actuality, she did a perfectly fine job with the grill.  When she says stuff like that, it makes me kinda sad ’cause it’s just unnecessary and the negative things she says are pretty much unfounded. Sometimes I respond with “Noooo, it looks great” or I just shrug because it seems that my comments don’t really make a difference anyway.

By this point, she hasn’t sat down yet, but I’ve been seated for at least three minutes. Comfortably situated in the seat I always sit in.  Meaning, I have pulled my chair out, sat down, and scooted my chair in close enough to the table that I’m not far away at all from the table. No unnecessary reaching. It’s after these comments have been made that she finally reacts to me sitting at the table. There is plenty of space between me and the wall behind me. Sure, it’s a small space; where the table is, it’s in a little nook. But like I said, I am comfortably seated and I am not at all pressed for room. I’m not squished in between the table and the wall. All is well. It’s perfect. No fussing is necessary.

But ooooohhhh noooo. Grandma always, ALWAYS grabs the table and pulls it away from me to “give me more room.” She just grabs the base of the table and yanks it away from me, saying “Here Kate, let’s give you a little more room.”

I DON’T NEED MORE ROOM! More room is the last thing I need. I could hoola hoop with all the room I’ve got!

I have since stopped reacting in any way other than scooting my chair to follow the table. Before, I used to say something like “Oh, no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it” or “No! Don’t move the table!!” but my pleas go unheard. Or, maybe she hears them and just ignores me. The latter is more likely, as she has ears like a wolf, like me, so I know she hears me. She just chooses to ignore my requests.

So every day, I scoot into the table on my own and hope that she’ll forget to move the table away.

But, alas, she never forgets. So it’s a constant battle.

Maybe one day I’ll hold on for dear life to the table and pull it towards me while she tries to yank it away. Until then, though, it looks like I’ll continue to scoot my way across the nook to catch up to the glass table that keeps getting taken away from me.