Crockpot Cooking

Fine. I can't bake, grill, baste, stir-fry, deep-fry, or even make a decent grilled-cheese sandwich. But we've purchased a crock-pot and I feel confident all my cooking woes will soon be far behind me. Surely even I can cut up some vegetables, add water, and throw them in a pot for 8 hours without too much going awry? (Shut up, mother).

Right now I'm three hours into a vegetable stew with cornmeal dumplings. If I manage to make a decent dumpling with this thing, I'm taking out an ad in the paper to announce my success.

I'm a little nervous though. The vegetable stew is comprised of butternut squash, mushrooms, garlic (4 cloves...no one come near me for the next month), Italian green beans (I have no idea what the difference is from regular green beans), Great Northern White Beans, and diced tomatoes. Blair would never in a million years eat any of those ingredients on their own so I don't know what makes me think if I heat them for 8 hours he'll eat them that way. But he'll at least try it or I'll pull weepy wife scenario #5. (I just wanted (sob sob) to do something NICE for you (sob) and make you a nice homecooked meal and (deep, shaky, sobbing breath)...and...you won't even TRY it. Waaaahhhhh!!!!)

Frankly, I just want him to be the guinea pig. If he eats it and remains standing then I'll try some myself.

A quick slam on Better Homes & Gardens. We purchased their cooking with crockpots cookbook so we would have some idea of what to put IN the crockpot. Being vegetarian, I of course immediately turned to the "Meatless Main Dishes" section. Tell me, BH&G, since when did chicken stock count as a non-meat product??? At least 3 of the meatless recipes call for chicken stock, earning this cook book the coveted DUH award.

Please. That's like telling yourself French Onion Soup is meatless b/c there are no meat chunks in it. Never mind it's entirely a meat-based broth. Are the cookbook writers at BH&G really so clueless or do they just not care? And how do I go about getting a job there?

I'll check back in 4 hours and tell you how the dumplings turned out.

High School Horrors

A friend of mine runs a Community In Schools program where she brings community leaders in to speak to kids who are in a school to work transition program. Because I am insane, a nice person, or both, I agreed to speak to this group on the subjects of networking and time management.

First off, I had major flashbacks as I approached the glass double doors leading into the school. It was near the end of the day and there were student announcement blaring over the PA system: "Congratulations to our band that placed fifth in state competition...Don't forget the soccer game this Saturday at rival school....All students driving to school must have car passes. Please see Mrs. King if you do not have your pass..."

It was complete deja vou. I felt 17 and insecure all over again.

But I like to think I covered well. I went into the classroom, peppy and full of energy, ready to WOW those kids with the dynamics of simple networking. They would thank me, remember me. Ten years from now when they were being interviewed by national news on how they achieved their success they would say, "I don't remember her name, but my junior year this woman talked to me about networking and opened my eyes and changed my life. I owe everything to her."

Ta-daaaahhh! I walked in and with a grin asked if anyone knew what networking was.

I was met with crossed arms, blank stares, and bodies slumped in seats as if all bones had been removed and they were doing their best to remain upright.

Okay. New tactic. I asked what sort of work they were interested in. People like to talk about themselves, right?

Wrong. They shifted left, shifted right, glanced uneasily at one another and recrossed their arms.

Mayday, mayday. I pulled out a flip chart. "Let's talk about who you know," I said. "That's the first part of networking."

Dead silence.

Finally, taking pity on me, one teen reluctantly mumbled, "Teachers, I guess."

"Yes! Teachers," I said scribbling. "Who else?"

Slowly they came around and called out names: friends, social workers, doctors, coaches, employers, church members, neighbors, parents, friends of parents, mechanics, hair dressers...we were on a roll.

They perked up a bit more when we got to time management, mainly b/c the class laughed when everyone admitted to horrible time management and they were always forgetting things.

I won't lie. It was a hard class to teach. I didn't realize quite how much I relied on audience involvement from the classes I teach to adult women. But it was eye opening too. I really don't think these kids were unresponsive. Rather, I sensed an uneasiness about opening up in front of their peers. Which I get. If you have a career dream which seems far-fetched, I can see not wanting to blurt it out for everyone to hear and--potentially--make fun of.

Surprisingly, given my not-so-warm feelings toward kids, the class made me want to go teach younger students. I want to get to them before they're closed off by experience and peer pressure. Or else I want to try again and find new ways to reach them. Even if I don't enjoy it, I love a challenge. And these kids presented a big one. I worry b/c the skills I talked about are basic skills needed to move ahead in life. But I'm not sure they "got" what I was saying, or the importance of practicing networking and time management. Admittedly, I only had one hour, but it seems odd no one has talked to these 15 year olds before about how to keep a daytimer and organize their time.

The PA was blaring again as I left, reminding students to prepare for upcoming exams and please bring in cans for the can drive which ends Wednesday.

High school. I'd forgotten how hard (emotionally) it was. These kids need all the support they can get.

Klingons Rule!

Klingon & Me

"Live Long & Prosper."

Oh wait, wrong species.

I spent the weekend at Stellar Con, which is another way of saying I hung around a lot of people who know way, way too much about 18th centuary London, werewolves, vampires, space, mythology, witches, swords, ships, and other aspects of life most of us don't give more than a passing glance.

The picture above came about from a promise made to my husband, a former teenage Sci-Fi fan. "Promise me if you see a Klingon you'll get a photo," he said, pressing the digital camera into my hand. I promised.

So at the conference, I approached this very nice if wrinkled foreheaded woman as seen above and without thinking, blurted, "My husband wants a picture of me with a Klingon. Would you mind?"

That's me. Always making friends.

I was there b/c, even though I don't write Sci-Fi (although I've had a very cool story brewing in my mind about witches for some time now), the conference offered workshops on dialogue, plot, self-editing, etc. Well worth the $30 and not only did I meet a Klingon, but a Storm Trooper and Darth Vader as well.

Although it was a geek fest (sorry, but if you were there you know, it was), it was still a fun and interesting geek fest, and these geeks have some serious knowledge swimming about their brains.

Plus, I can't bring it in my heart to slam any conference that had the following advertisement. I'm paraphrasing b/c I threw my booklet out, but for some upcoming "Con," the ad read something like:

An absolute must on your "To-D0-Before-I-Die" list. Cross off "have a threesome" and include this conference instead! C'mon, be realistic. The threesome thing is just never going to happen.

Someone on the P.R. staff deserves a raise.

I'm off! Warp speed, Sulu. (I can't pull that off, can I?)

Ow ow ow

Interesting. I won't get out of bed and exercise on the weight machine and treadmill in the comfort of my own home. Rather, I feel the need to be up at 5:00 am, warming the car up by 20 after, driving 30 minutes to a gym, and only then exercising. I could have been done with my daily workout by the time I parked if I'd just stayed home.

But I'm bored. Bored, bored, bored. I will always love Billy Blanks and Tae-bo, but I simply can't face another tape. I can force myself on the treadmill to run a few miles, but I'm not doing any weight training.

Hence, the gym. I'm on a one-week trial membership, today being Day 1. My intent is to go every day and try new classes. However, I did a "Pump" class this morning which is one hour of lifting weights in an icy cold room while Pat Benatar screams punk rock love songs over a loudspeaker. I can take Pat. It's the one hour that scares me.

I did it, but I know, I just KNOW, I am going to wake up crippled tomorrow. You just can't dive into a class like that and expect to walk away unscathed. And here's the thing about aging...it takes longer to heal. When I was 20 and sore from a workout, it lasted an hour. 28, lasted maybe a day. Now at 34, it's 3 days of Tylenol and heating pads. I'm absolutely terrified of what my body will do when I turn 40. Probably drop into a short coma to heal.

The grass is always greener with me. For the past 2 months I've been thinking, "I want to join a gym, I want to join a gym." Now that I'm there, I found myself thinking, "I could be at home, I could be at home."

Maybe I'll try one of their yoga classes and see if I can get my mind to shut up.