Russian Tea Cakes-- the 18 min, impressive treat

I'm not Russian, nor do I drink tea, so its strange we somehow went from mother's Swedish Pancakes to Russian Tea Cakes. She loved to serve the fancy little dollops of sugar and fat on silver plates, but I liked them warm. Never could wait until they cooled, as is the proper way.

The batter-mix until it barely sticks together

The oddity came in handy today, when, in a panic, Porsche reminded me I had to make "something Russian" to go along with her world report on Russia (at 5! yikes). As she talks about how Tsar Nicholas and family were murdered, the sturgeon are slaughtered for caviar, and how Fabrege eggs are in museums (oh, and can she pleeese have more ballet), she is going to be giving out tea cakes.

I must say, they don't go over well at parties, even though they look as good as they taste. I don't know if people are averse to trying something new, especially when coated with powered sugar. I will say this: they taste great, are so easy a 5 year old can do it, AND take less than 5 min to make and 9 min to cook. if you are EVER in a pinch, make these.

Once again, the Sarah version, to use portions that are meaningful instead of wasteful.

Prep time: 5 min (if butter is soft)

Cook time: 9 min

Ingredients

2/3 cup soft butter

3 full tsp of powdered sugar

1 tsp of vanilla

3/4 cup flour

pinch salt

(walnuts if desired)

Preparation

1. Place butter and vanilla in a mixing bowl, and using paddle attachment, mix well (a minute or so) on med
2. Add the powdered sugar.
3. Add the flour and salt until just mixed (the dough will come off the sides of the bowl). If not, add a bit more flour



Form small balls (ab nickle size around
for kids. Larger for adults)

4. Remove and form in to small balls. As you can see from the picture, 2/3 butter recipe made more than enough for 13 5 year olds and teachers, or a silver plate.
5. Bake for 9 min or until the cakes are bouncy on the top
6. Remove and allow to cool
7. Roll again in powdered sugar

Bake, then sprinkle w/powdered
sugar (can roll in sugar  instead)

A note on NUTS: so many people are allergic to nuts of all kinds, I make this in 2 versions--with and without. Works either way. If you want some nuts, walnuts are best, and not much-about 1/4 cup, or else you need to change the recipe.

The finished product, 18 min later!

Another note on dryness: this recipe is interesting, in that the 'best' tea cakes, according to the mother-of-all-cooks, (mom), are flaky to the point of nearly falling apart. I'm not a fan of the falling-apart anything. It's messy. I'm sure she meant crumbling in the mouth. Regardless, play around with the measurements to fit your liking. These are by far, the easiest, tasiest morsels you'll make.

Veggie balls even a meat eater can love

I'm a proud carnivore that has rarely encountered a piece of flesh I won't try at least once. Due to slowing matabolism that now proceeds at the pace of a sap oozing out of a tree in fall, I rarely eat red meat, perhaps a few times a month (red meat takes 3 days for the bod to process). My husband is more fussy with cheeses and cholestoral-rising food than I, so together, we make a crazy combo.

Several nights ago, we both had a nervana experience that brought us one step closer to near red-meatless diet: vegie meatballs. Sounds lame, and that's what I thought when I bought a pack at Costco. Lured in as I was by the "organic and natural" packaging, and oxymoron for most items sold at the big box chain, I figured the five bucks was going to save a cow, reduce Rog's cholesteral and help me lose weight in one.

Tired of my day old lasagna (my favorite actually), Rog tore in to the package, cleaned up one plate without offering me so much as a bite, and proceeding on his second. I think he had about 20 of the poppers. Shocked, I stole on, ignoring his screech of dismay. In two chomps it was gone and I knew we had a winner. No sauce, only salt and pepper. We then went on to dissect the ingredients--all commonly found vegies.

The next step was seeing if I could replicate the experienced. Five bucks is cheap for 30, but I thought I'd be able to improve on the health factor a tad. The on line recipes were/are awful, in my opinion, since they all want some type of grain. The only one I went for was brown rice, though this gave the balls an odd aftertaste. I don't like oats in anything other than my cereal or chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, so that was out. I settled on old fashioned bread crumbs. The rest of my experiment included celery, carrots, potatoes (a wonderful, though starchy addition), onions--always sauteed in butter, though purists can go for oil), and then whatever else I wanted to throw in (a bit of colored peppers gave it a zing, not unlike my crab cakes).

I went French on this recipe, going by feel and texture than a singular recipe. When it came time to roll it all together, I added in an egg balanced this with the bread crumbs. (always do these last two at the end). You know what? The recipe was near identical to crab cakes, save for the spices and oils I put in both. The wettish mixture is dry and formable (my donkingism for the day), awaiting my glad-handing shake of the salt and pepper bottle, some Hungarian Paprika, oregano, thyme and a few other mish mash items that sound good at the time (e.g. celery salt).

Raw, the mixture was good (yes, I always taste it raw. I'm not a nut about the whole avoiding-raw-egg thing). Sauteed the balls in a pan covered with a thin layer of oil. The next time I make these, I'll add some pics or something. Verdict? Rog ate more of my homemade than he did of the store bought. AND, without the butter (and depending on the crumbs, if vegan) the entire dish can be vegan as well. (My mom is going to vomit now), but I'm quite proud of myself.

Here is the recipe, as best I can remember.

Prep time: 15
Start to finish: @45
Makes: @30 veggie balls

Ingredients
1/2 onion
1/4 butter (salted)
3/4-1 cup bread crumbs
1-2 eggs
cheese (if desired)
1/2 of a red, yellow and/or orange bell pepper (you can sub w/green if you prefer)
2 carrots
3 celery stalks
1-2 potatos (cooked, w/or without skin, depending on preference)
choice of herbs, such as oregano, thyme, celery salt, hungarian paprika

Preparation

1. Boil the potato.
2. Sautee the onion in the butter, adding the carrots and half way.
3. Remove and drain the potato, chop fine, or mash and add to the onion mixture (add more butter or oil if necessary).
4. Blend with salt and pepper, hungarian paprika and other dried herbs. Mix well (the aroma is divine)
5. Finely chop the peppers. (If you want a bit of zing, throw in a jalepeno, Rog loved this variation)
6. Remove the onion mixture, and add the peppers. Conduct a taste test for blandness, a common issue with vegie balls. if you want more zing, douse it with some cayenne pepper and/or tobasco. I use both and they are awesome (you can get vegetarian-friendly equivalent for hot sauce, though Rog, the purist he, refuses to use them).
7. Add the egg, mix well, then add the bread crumbs bit by bit. Test the consistency for molding, and add the other egg, and or more bread crumbs as necessary.
8. Heat the oil on the stove over medium heat, or if you have an old-school pan set at 300 degrees. (I have this huge, Italian metal frying pan with a temperature gauge that is perfect for all things meatball).
9. It takes about a minute to cook on each side, and I'll use tongs and/or forks to turn and cook. Another cooking technique is to use a cast iron bacon press and make the balls more like pancakes. It makes for a more even cooking job, and great for adding a topping but not technically, 'balls.'

I've tried a whole lotta sauces, from aeoli to dipping sauces ideal for vegies, and then some savory, though meat-verboten ones--like spicy teriyaki. Not bad. I've not settled on one perfect one, although I did whip up a cream cheese, roasted red pepper thing that some guests loved. That is probably my favorite thus far...

I used (these are rough measurements, as I'm becoming more French by the day-as in-winging it)...

• 1 8 oz package of full-fat (eg original)
• Red pepper, in the oven--convection or broil for a few minutes, until soft and quasi brown/black. remove and let cool.
• Put both in the blender (Cuisinart) and pulse a few times until just blended.
• Add salt and pepper to taste and wala!

PS--this sauce is meant to be a little bland--to cut the spiciness of the vegie balls.

P-dog returns

Dragging myself away from this blog was like giving up a short-lived vice, and really, I'm typing this to take a break from the Krinkle-treat induced, sleep-prevention diet I've been on ever since. (My cousin, mother and She will take great glee in this slight relapse...) here's what's happened...

I actually have typed out several chapters of Book 2 in Chambers, (Book 1 approved by the Studio last Thursday. Hurrahhh!! 4 years wasn't lost after all.). Also finished integrating the remaining stories of the casino boss in Starbound on Friday. If that weren't enough, I lost two pounds because I can read Bloomberg Mag and my Cowboys and Indians magazine while on the eliptical. Who knew writing a blog was so downright unhealthy and unproductive? (As i type this, rapid-style, I live in fear Rog will come down from tucking on P and give me h--l).

So while I can sneak it in, I must say I've been DYING to tell people about....

• the latest from Taio Cruz/Kylie Minogue, Higher, is awesome. Caught it on the Music Choice/Dance/Electronica that I have playing non-stop in the background, thanks to Rog's recent acquisition of a universal remote. I feel as though i've been translated and come back down, a universal remote my gift. That said, if I hear "like a G6" anymore, I may pull my ears out of my head.
• last month's InStyle Mag (with G Paltrow on the cover), reminding me I need to pick up Revlon's nude lip stain and Chanel's allure red lipstick. Figure it will do me in 50 bucks total, but red is hot right now.
• I've got 2 inches of grow out from my (suddenly) graying hair. What's up with that??? Is that what happens when books get picked up to movies? egads.
• My P-dog is limping badly, thx to a very rude maintenance man who told me to walk her on the grass, not the street, and in an attempt to avoid an 'incident', thrust P-dog through a ice-encrusted snow. She slipped, crashing through the ice, hurting her back leg. Two weeks later, she's still sore, making chasing the deer on our property harder than usual. She comes in, the race lost, her ego as bruised as her gimpy limb.
• oh-i think I'm going to get my face all lasered. Over the last few months, I've been noticing my upper lids are starting to sag down like the fatty skin on Pearl in Blade. Not good. For the price of getting a zip-line between my eyebrow and eyelash, I'm halfway to getting the whole thing tightened...and
• speaking of (not) hiding all things, I still see no point in why women (and some men) think that the rest of us, with eyes, are NOT going to notice the hair transplants, suddenly tight shirts (women), puffed up butts (very popular in certain male circles) and the general not here yesterday-but-here-today changes in waistlines, turkey gobble necks, underarm skin, above the knee skin removal. In general, I advocate honesty folks. If one is going to look better, by all means, be honest about it!

Ok-time limits up. 9:05, but go back to writing...

181 is the last one

Sunday is the day for reflection. A day for sitting on the couch. The day to hit the wall of reality smack in the face.

"Where's the manuscript," was what my editor asked me, ever so politely. Not done yet, I told her in so many words. I prepaid her for the work actually, and have just a few more edits. "The other one?" she continued, referring to the book that's already been optioned for a movie. Same answer. "Making the last changes now." Nothing.

Silence with an editor is never a good thing. Bad way to start the morning. Worse when I consider I had plenty of time. I just...redirected...to something more fun...or in my 5th grade, Elle Wood's, blond-moment language "funner!"

The culprit of course, is blogging. In three months, I've written 180 blogs. Each one taking between 10-60 minutes, depending on length. Let's say 40 minutes, since my earlier blogs were longer. I can write 1-3 pages of decent quality material in that time. I'll conservatively say 2 pages. That's 360 pages, or nearly a complete novel, that I've sacrificed for writing in this short form, that, while fun to write, get's me no closer to my goal of moving from an ok writer to a good writer, or a good writer to a great writer. (and tactically speaking, it's the reason I'm no more than 6 pages in on Chambers Book 2, and, have not moved beyond chapter 16 of my adult suspense novel).

Thus, the come to Mahatma moment with Rog occured shortly after brick wall. Loyal readers of this blog already know what happened next. He had a variation of "I told you so," since, well, he did tell me it was going to be a 'distraction, a nuisance, and take away from my (you guessed it) goal." We are a goal-driven people in the Gerdes household. It's "the curseeeee!"

Three months ago, I was rather proud I'd avoided Facebook, gloating that my miniscule minutes on the site was dwarfed by Russian social networking habits. This overpuffed, bloaty attitude dissipated in the mist when I threw in my own 30 hours+ per month. Not Good! said the Russian billionaire.

So as not to completely alientate readers, I'm going on hiatus. There is nothing worse than continually checking a site, hoping for a new post, feeling the pang of disappointment, then disgust, followed by apathy and the inevitable delete button. Better to not be present than to set expectations for another installment.

A silver lining does exist. I may pick up the phone more often now, assuming people want to go old-school to find out what's up.  After, the movie(s) are up and running, the next book well underway and the auction done, I may pick it up again. But don't count on it.

Beauty Bits for Life- more secrets revealed

This morning I was reminded that 42 years of life behind, in front of and aside from the camera is more than enough time to learn a few tricks to pass along to my fellow man (and woman).

Drink 2 glasses of water with lemon a day.
Said before and I'll say it again. If it worked to keep the skin and digestive tracks of my Swedish Grandma and Diane Sawyer in prime shape, it's good enough for me. I get full, get flushed and get my Vitamin C all in one short dose. Warm water helps, as does a bit of honey. Don't think. Just do. It's a great detox for the skin (I looked for Sawyer's snippet on the subject but no luck).

Hairspray and holding
My puberty happened to coincide with Farrah Fawcet and the dawn of big hair. Throughout the last few decades, I've strugged to calm the mass of my cousin It hair and still make it hold. With Modern Family hair at an all time high, girls need to know how to get sexy curls that will hold all night.

Apply hairspray BEFORE setting in hot rollers.
This is critical. Bumble and Bumble hairspray will work, along with the standard Paul Mitchell available at every beauty supply and hair cut shop. The B & B is spendy ($30) but lasts a long time. Comb out the hair, spray on some spray, roll it in the hot roller and let sit for about 10 minutes. BEFORE you are about to take the roller out, spray a bit more hairspray for a final set. Wait a minute or two then remove. You will have curls that will last you all night long. For extra insurance, you can spray when down, OR, for sexy, Victoria Secret-type curls, run your fingers through the hair, then spray. It will keep the curls in uneven patters. Whatever you do, DON'T brush the hair out with a big brush. This will strip the curl out.

Upgrade to a ceramin or titanium flat iron.
Even us gals with big hair need to assess the quality of a flatiron. My ceramic goes up to 200 degrees, while a titanium flat iron goes up to 400. Every time I emerge from the hair salon, I recommit to set aside the $ to spring for the titanium, but I never get around to doing it. Thus, my ceramic is relegated to being used AFTER I go through the above hot rollers saga, a near 2-hour effort that lasts for a week, unless I hit the water park. The titanium flattens and smooths my hair in a quarter of the time. love it.

Keeping make-up in place: hairspray
I used to be a dancing fool. As in, hitting the clubs every night of the week except Sunday. New York, San Fran, Philly, Miami---if it had a club that had great dance music, I was there. The problem was make-up. I looked like a drag queen after the third or fourth song. The heat and the sweat wiped down everything but my lipstick. The trick of the ages was given to me by a make-up artist: spray your face with hairspray after everything is applied. I was dubious, as I always am. But I tried it and it worked.

One more hair thing...if you struggle with thin, fly away hair, or thick, unruly hair like me, use Bumble and Bumble hair wax BEFORE you use the flatiron. It goes like this....put a pinky fingernail full of the waxy substance in your palms, rub together and then apply throughout your hair--top first, then underneath. You don't need a lot, just the tiniest bit. Take small swatched of hair, comb out then run the flat iron over it. For 5 years, I used the flatiron without wax and for the life me, couldn't understand why it would frizz the moment I got in the rain. One day I asked my stylist and she told me the reason. The wax removes the moisture from the hair, making it impossible to get moisture back. Even when it rains, it's as flat as a piece of paper. LOVE IT!!! As an aside, I've tried lots of other hair waxes, even the one my hairdresser eventually moved to, but none works as good as B & B, at least not for my hair.


Get a personal airsprayer
Every time I go for a commercial or show or something, my make-up is stripped off (and I want to be offended, but have no choice) and I'm sprayed with foundation. Then I'm sprayed with blush and sometimes, eyeshadow. I've even had a few spray on eyebrows. The lips are put on old-school, as is the eyeshadow (the accent parts). I take a certain pride in my eyelashes, as they are long and thick. The blond at the end is of course, colored dark with mascara. Guess what? Thanks to the Kardashian sisters, the tv folks demand the fakies are put on "to stand out!" After a few times of this, I've drawn the line on the fake eyelashes unless I'm going to be a catwoman on a mission to offend. All that aside, a personal airsprayer for foundation won't run off, come off or wipe off or falter for an entire day--or two if you don't shower. Spendy, but worth the investment (and NO, I don't have one. I guess I don't care that much...) but I certainly appreciate the women who go to this trouble. The result is beautiful.

Lose the dark lipstick during the day and lose the years...
YES, dark red or brown lipstick is glamorous and will get you lots and lots of stares. At the same time, it's aging. I can't believe the nice comments I'll get when I wear a nude, or nothing at all, during the day "you look younger," or "what have you done" and the only thing I changed was the color of my lips. Melanie, my make-up artist friend, confirmed this..."it's the oldest trick in the book." Speaking of which....

Keeping angry eyebrow hair in place
A face can be perfectly put together and then a Boris comes out. By Boris, I mean the one hair that sticks straight out and can poke you during a romantic encounter. Rog, my husband, has plenty of Boris's. AFter nearly losing my sight a few times, I told him to use some hairspray. I hate to make this entire blog about hairspray, as it reminds of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, where the cure-all was Windex. However, all you need to do to calm the errant hair is spray a bit on your forefinger and smooth it over your eyebrow. Females tend to own an eyebrow shaper. Use this before, and after you apply the hairspray. It will be stuck for days. If you have another 5 bucks to spend, purchase the eyebrow gel by Mabelline. It takes 2 steps down to one.

Spiking earaches, being consoled & my Swami

Perhaps it was the eighteenth email I received on a particular subject regarding my daughter's school auction, or unloading the car in the pouring rain. Whatever the trigger, at 3:30 pm I felt both sides of my throat pulse in pain, and twenty minutes later, the hole I use for breathing was nearly swollen shut and I felt a spiking earache at the base of both my ears. Putting my stubborn, I-can-gut-this-out mentality aside, I immediately looked at the clock. 5:58 pm. Two minutes before my homeopathic swami's sabbath was about to begin.

I called him and he begins with his usual greeting. "What's going on?" he asked. It's never "Hi, how are you feeling," or "how are the kids?" I only call the man when in sickness, never to chat. Pleasantries ended years ago. The second I told him the above and stopped talking, he asked, "Do you need to be consoled?"  My throat tightened and I lamely squeeked out an unconvincing 'no.' "Pulsatilla," he said, ignoring me entirely.

My state was such that I didn't bother to get offended over him catching me in a lie. I was already digging in my bag, quickly past the 30c, the lowest dosage, directly to the 200c. I tell Swami I need the hard stuff. "Don't!" he practically yells. "That's like killing a fly with a bazuka." Hmm. The 1M, the mother of all dosage amounts, looks eniticing. That must be the nuclear bomb, and for a moment I'm tempted. Then the miniscule green, quasi-Democrat side of me raises it's head and talks me away from the ledge. I pick up the 30 c feeling wimpy, how Joe Lieberman must have felt when he went Independent.

"Youuuu are going to get a fever in the next hour," prophecies Swami. "The body must expel the illness." Were it so simple with all what ails me in my life. Sure enough, within about 20 minutes of giving myself a single, white pill under my tongue, my face gets hot and my legs go weak. Shortly thereafter, I'm lying on the floor, my toddler crawling over my dead weight and Porsche is putting blanket over my shaking body overjoyed to be 'playing mommy.' The consolation, I tell myself, is that this will be twelve hours of pain instead of the three or four days suffered by traditional injection-shooting, non-homeopath course to health.

The next half hour of shakes gave me the opportunity to reflect on the state of affairs....Luckily for me, I can't find my phone, am too weak to get on email, and am blessedly free from interruptions. I troll through the last 12 hours like a movie trailer, scenes of getting up 3 x in the middle of the night for one child, then another, ignoring the meows of the cats and the dog rumbling her displeasure, seeking a repreive from the snoring of my husband. We have GOT to get another arrangement from this communal thing we have going on. Granted, we have a wierd house that lends itself to group quarters, a big, log pup-tent, but seriously.

The morning was grand. "Mom, something stinks in the bathroom," and I hear Rog blaming it on the sewer. They are all downstairs when I go to take a shower, flip over the bathroom rug and step right on the biggest pile of dog s--t one has ever seen. At that moment, it occured to me P-dog wasn't expressing displeasure. She was expressing her need to relieve her bowels. Since I ignored her, she got me back. Once I check my email, I read my mail that brings despair and joy. Despair is yet another flame mail from someone expressing displeasure I wore a cat suit to a parent event (I was doing a skit). It was nearly 2 wks ago. Did my big, fat arse offend that badly to scar someone's sensitivity. I breathed and moved on. I'm bigger than that (literally). Joy comes from read that Chambers is "a solid book" according to the studio, and now wants me to make minor changes. Separately, the studio also delivered me final financial paperwork for the biography that's being adapted. Stressful? Only that the closer I get to the finish line, the greater the anxiety about failure (plus, I secretly think my foot still reeks). Dozens of emails, three phone calls, a trip to Costco, changing Porsche's blood-soaked gauze and correcting an on-line banking account issue still don't bring me down. It's only 3 and I figure the night is going to mean a movie and relaxing w/Rog. I think the final straw was another request for info on the movie, combined with a flurry of seven more emails on said same issues above in the space of a few minutes and the finance guy from the studio called for 'one last conversation.'

It was Friday. My fingers revolted and sent a signal to my brain that I was done. Swami was right. I just needed to be consoled. Next time I feel overwhelmed, I'm going to assemble my possi and have a group hug. Right after I let the dog out.

Strengthening fingernails-the Trainers Choice

Dad has been on my mind a lot lately, and for all the oddest of reasons: His hard, ripply fingernails that resemble the top of an old, metal washboard, except a whole lot smaller, though not at all lacking in the steel-like quality. He nails could cut a lot of things, skin included.

Just don't ever do this," he said, filing his nails with his bottom teeth. I greatly admired my father's soft, round edges, the kind a professional manicurist would envy. Unfortunately, his Superman fingernail genetics skipped right over me, for I have thin nails, normal to ugly shaped, and not at all feminine looking. He did manage to pass me his thick, cow-milking fingers, nice and wide for gripping those 'teeeets' as my family says, and palms the size of a bear claw. Ever shake my hand and you'll recognize the grip of death followed by a quick retraction before you can actually verify I'm a man and not Pat in disguise.

All manliness aside, I strive for long, lovely, hard nails, and realized magazines make millions of dollars accepting ads for all types of nail hardeners (this is what I think about when I'm stressed). Don't go there. Instead, go out and buy yourself a small round of Heathly Hoof nail hardener. I was turned on this by my very first college roommate, oh-so-long ago. She hailed from Colorado, had horses, and said it was the oldest trick in the book. "Women have been using this stuff for decades!" she said. What? you say, in disbelief? It's true, the same way it's true that male hockey players wear women's nylons (preferably in the natural tan color) because it reduces the hair getting caught in all that stinky gear. "The Trainer's Choice," is the tagline for Healthy Hoof, and so it should be. In a matter of days, my nails were noticably harder. A few weeks out, the nails were long and strong. No breaking, chipping or flaking.

Usage tip--take a bit of the cream and rub it at the base of the cuticles, then around the top of the nail. Do this a few times on each finger-one hand then the other. A couple times a day for faster results, but once a day will do the trick just fine. Soon you won't need anything else on your nails--except a color now and then to mix it up. However, it doesn't work on nailpolish--so that will have to come off when you apply the cream. Now all I have to do is figure out how Dad keeps his hair so nice looking. 

A day late and inch smaller

To the peanut in the back of the gallery, leaving my readers hanging is a specialty born of writing suspense novels....to answer your question, isn't it obvious? It could be the trailer, a tent, some place other than the bedroom, the solice and comfort of one's own pillow as unattainable as a being a citizen without a passport. Entrance is forbidden to persona-non-grata. I'm  happy to report progress was had and I once again enjoyed the comfort and luxury of my bed. Thx to three nights of minimal sleep, I crashed. thx for asking.

Moving on...while I was unduring the above, endorfens were not to be had. I was without my weights, w/sick kids and unable to leave the room. Luckily, I had an item I'd never used before. A Giam stretchy-thing Rog bought at my request, but once recieved, had done little more than collect dust and serve as a toy for my daughter who had grown board of playing velcro fairies.
The FIRM® Cardio Sculpt Resistance Cords
The band is light, the route to removing the layer of bread stuck on my sides like a piece of one-sided velcro easy. Stepping on the center of the bend with one foot, only (e.g right foot, gripping the band with my right hand) and punching up at an angle. This is like my arm lifts, only with resistence. 15 reps later, I had broken a sweat. Not kidding. It wasn't the 4,000 elevation either. It actually worked me hard. Then I switched to the other side. I had grand ambitions of doing 100 on either side and give it up at 30, or in other words, 2 reps.

Thinking myself a complete wimp, I then stood on the rope with both feet and did a bi-cept pull up. 3 rep of 15 later, I switched and did side bi-cip pull ups. After, the boys were playing Call of Duty (I'm frightened I know this), so what's blood between family?

Truly and honestly, I thought nothing would come of such a lame attempt at working out, even with a few modest droplets of sweat running down my face. Imagine  my surprise and delight when, the following day, the fat roll on my belly and sides had given way to a little more toning. Be skeptical. I was, until Rog actually said that I'd been "doing a good job" on my sides. That was it. I was using those things nightly for 3 days, and completely bummed when I left for home w/out them.

For $9.00, I'm going to get an extra set, and I figure any one will do the trick. I'm sure Target has a few options. As I mentioned, light, easy to pack and carry, and flexible--as in, I got crazy, doing cross-cuts, back lat and back arm bends for toning these batwings in the making.

From the rabbit hole

Going dark on a blog is like ceasing to write a journal after 30-some odd years. It's odd, the routine upset or put off-kilter by uncontrollable circumstances, like the bristles on a toothbrush gone back before falling out entirely. While I could reminisce about the circumstances that have brought me to my current, pathetic posting of one in five days, I'll go positive, reflecting instead on moments of enlightenment.

1. When someone says "say that again," it's really not because your mouth opened and angels sang. It's because what you said was so unbelievably stupid, the listener had to ask again just to make sure. Ask Michael Lewis. 
2. The best place to find a used car is by searching the obituaries. It's not pretty, but it works, just like Volvo's. Fewer used cars mean higher prices. Driven to desperation, one becomes and ambulence chaser of a different sort.
3. When your son comes home from college for the weekend and gets sick, throat swollen like two pieces of popcorn stuck together, the flow of air reduced to a wheeze, forget Aconitum. Go Bryonia.It's what my Swami told me at 8 am Saturday morning, when skiing was traded for taking care of one sick young man.
4. When the weather man says "3 feet of snow," and issues an avalanche warning, think twice. Arriving anywhere at 3 in the morning with a car of of kids, a dog, and a Rockstar-maniac husband does not bode well for the weekend.5. Butter flavoring does not make a vegan happy. How dare I use butter flavoring (even the essence of butter)?
6. It's hard to find an unadulterated single dose, pure tetnus shot for a 5 year old, who "was trying to feed the horses," using a sushi-grade knife.
7. It is possible not to cry, hyperventalate or otherwise lose it when your daughter is getting stitches without novacane.
8. Tetnus shot is also the name of a song by Degenarte Highway, a fact not helpful when in a race against time to prevent an infection, caused by a love of a four hoofed animal.
9. People who need money the most are least likely to ask for it, and therefore, may deserve it a little more.
and...dun-dun dahhh...10. $20 dollars is definitely NOT worth sleeping on the couch

Harsh weather skin care find

Pelting ice rain doesn't not good skin make. Gusting winds and sub-freezing temperatures guarantee a nice, thing layer of skin is going to be removed without a luffa pad. No matter. The local health food store saved the next epidurmus layer from coming off overnight.

Burt's Bees Carrot night cremewas all Yoke's offered in terms of a nice, thick salve. I'm wary of this brand, since my experience with a few products have caused my skin to clog. My skin was in agony and the 7-11 wasn't likely to offer up a better product, so I spent the twelve bucks. True to form, it was greasy and gooey, but felt divine on my skin. The downside was I had to stay upright for about an hour after putting it on, made easy by watching a re-run of The Abyss with the family, an interesting, if not slightly slow movie with a happy ending that made me cry. The water moved over my skin like the rain off a wetsuit, so I gave the creme another 30 minutes. The morning after, my face felt like the bottom of a babies butt. At 3,000 feet elevation, this product is perfect. I expect it would do folks in the dessert some good as well....

With a good experience under my belt, I went back to the store and purchased Burt's Bees naturally ageless day lotion. It has pomegranate (a natural detoxifier) and para cress, which I had never heard of before. It was only after I used the stuff for a day (which I liked by the way--it is thin, dries fast, and yet leaves a nice protective coating. I might use this year round) that I looked on line to discover para cress is used by indigenous people for salads. It's properties are good for flatulence (what the...?), nausea and vomiting and, get this, deworming. I'm just happy that I now have the Trivial Pursuit answer for the questionas as to why the makers of a face cream is going to put a flatulence stopping, vomiting negating deworming function in the bottle.

Batting a thousand, I picked up the Naturally Ageless skin smoothing hand cream. Now, my mother is a hand creme connoissour. Too thick. Too thin. Smell is overly strong, or bad. Brand name or no name. All "jacked up" or natural. In her seventh decade, she's set them all aside to use Calendula hand creme exclusively (note-this is Mom's brand, the only one she'll use). It's not much money ($7.00 US), can be found at healthstores, and goes with her schitzophrenic Ferragamo meets Birkenstock lifestyle. (One thing I love about Mom, she mixes it up and keeps us guessing, a true example that a woman of style and class can also be a closet greenie, Earth lover). I'm not sure if she's tried this brand yet, so I'm not going to spend the money. I'll give her a dollup when I see her next and we'll do the test: can she snap her fingers afterward, and does it smell. My litmus is being able to type without residue (check) and like Mom, no smell (check). After a few hours of skiing, my hands weren't completely dried and cracking--progress. All thanks to Burt's Bee's, a brand I'd neglected for years...