Fondue

I love cheese fondue. It is one of those weird foods that you never really think to make for yourself, but there's no good reason for it. Over the last few days, I have not been able to stop thinking about fondue. As it happens, my dear friend gave me a fondue pot that she picked up at Goodwill for a buck. At first, I thought, "Yeah, cool and everything, but I know I'll never bother to make fondue. And I sure as hell don't need something else cluttering up my kitchen." But tonight, I decided to give in to my recent obsession, get a little Gruyere and go for it. I scoured many recipes and decided to go with Emeril's classic cheese fondue. I thought it a little heavy on the lemon, but I had a go.

Let me just say that this may be the single most delicious thing to ever pass my lips. It was better than The Melting Pot. Better than The Cheese Cellar. This is the best thing I've ever had. You've gotta make this stuff. The heavy addition of lemon made it absolutely sublime. Nothing like it. I skipped the nutmeg because I'm not a big fan of it, and I added extra garlic. Otherwise, I went for the recipe as written. Now all I have to do is wait a sensible amount of time before I have this again. There are no words. I'm tearing up a little just remembering.

Spring for the damn Gruyere. It's worth every penny.

Emeril's Cheese Fondue

For the record, we dipped French bread cubes and tart apples.

Dynamite

See this movie. Immediately. Or I'll come after you with my Rex-Kwon-Do skills and a bowstaff, whatever that is.

Spike

Spike was here when I got home this afternoon. He was all decked out with homemade streamers, and is trying to give me a strange glowing cube as a present. I'm a little afraid of that. It could be anything. Also, he says it's his birthday, too, and he's going off to get drunk and play kitten poker. Disgusting.

Old

As of 1:28 this morning, I am old. I don't feel old. I feel rather childish and irresponsible, actually, and I'd like to continue to act that way. But I must face the numbers. Numbers never lie. I am 36 today, and I need to go out and buy some Oil of Olay. Or, as my dad called it, "Oil of Ol' Lady."

On the upside, I don't have grey hair, I don't have any lines or wrinkles (nor will I get them, thanks to Oil of Olay), I don't have any kids, I still like the cool music, and I have a sweet ride. With any luck, I've inherited my mother's ability to age imperceptibly.

So, I mean to take this on with aplomb. I'll forget about it in a few hours and go back to acting like an ass. I did when I turned 35. And this weekend, I will gather with many of my overeducated thirtysomething kidless compadres, eat cake, get drunk, and sing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" poorly, and in front of many strangers. Somehow, you get away with that when you are the loudest and largest group at the bar. Then I will realize how lucky I am.

My goals for my new year are as follows:

Lose the weight.
Make tons of sweet, sweet, moolah.
Watch Napoleon Dynamite at least once per month, just to keep me in check.
Get more mad skills.
Learn what a bowstaff is and how to use one.
Finish the book(s).
Stop writing depressing blog entries, and get on with the nonsense.

"My name is Sally O'Malley, and I'm here to reclaim the runway for real women! And I'm FIFTY! I like to kick, and stretch, and KICK! I'm FIFTY!"

Kelly

Ever the queen of procrastination, I finally got around to adding Kelly to my blogroll. Welcome, fellow lover of all things Buffy.

Cowher

I feel I just need to say, for the record, that this loss does nothing, and I mean nothing, to change my feelings about the awesome might that is Bill Cowher. Belichik be damned. Cowher is the greatest coach in the NFL. And I swear, if I hear any sniping and grousing about how Cowher can't win "the big one", I will come after each and every offender personally, and kick some whiny ass. Every single fan, if they're being honest, KNOWS that Cowher is not the reason for this loss. So I DO NOT want to hear it.

Blame Canada.

Anxiety

If you've read my blog in the past, you know that I am a person who is susceptible to anxiety. Really susceptible. Not depression, so much, but anxiety. And I'm here to tell you that right now, there is just too much going on. I'm forced to stop and physically calm myself rather frequently. I LOVE YOU, YOGA. But even with the yoga, I'm kind of freaking out. Here's the INTJ list of anxiety-inducers:

1. I am turning 36 in less than one week. That is unacceptable, and I think I am about to have a crisis over it. I'm still unsure about what I'm supposed to do with my life and if I should have children. I feel like I'm always watching that 60-Minutes clock.

2. China is building up, militarily, along their borders. Maybe I'm making too much of it, but it feels bad. It's China. They don't have a history of being reasonable.

3. War in Iraq, scary. General world situation, scary. I can't take hearing the word "Fallujah" one more time. I can't bear seeing one more picture of prisoner abuse.

4. Every time I see football on TV, any football, even the mere mention of football, I start to taste metal. I don't know if I'll make it through this Steeler game on Sunday. A desire this great over something as stupid as football is lame, I know, but it's me. Last night, I watched a re-hash of the Jets game and I started yelling at the TV as if it were all happening all over again. And I got so tense that my shoulder almost became lodged in my ear.

5. My house is a mess right now and I can't get it under control. I clean and my spousal unit goes through it like a tornado, and I can't stand living in clutter.

6. I am trying to write a book, and it feels like I keep taking three steps forward and four steps back. It's starting to get to me. I think I may have to start working outside my home for awhile, to see if that helps. Cafes, libraries, something.

I could go on, but I won't. Suffice it to say that this is a really good time for me to be staying away from caffeine. Maybe I'm just going through one of my hermit phases, and I'll feel better soon. I hope so.

In the interest of losing weight, I have limited my wine intake to one night per week. I think this is good, but maybe the drinking was keeping me calm. I'm not finding it difficult to stay at one night per week, and I don't crave the booze, but maybe my nightly glass was keeping me saner. Is this possible?

Hat

You know, I had a very close male friend in college who was very fond of being "properly dressed" all the time. And I do mean ALL THE TIME. People would make fun of him for wearing pressed pants and French cuffs every day, and a fedora when he went out. I always wondered what it is in people that would compel them to make fun of someone for looking spiffy.

A few years back, I was in Texas. While there, I bought a really cool cowboy hat. I had no good way to carry it home except to wear it. In the Dallas airport, I was ignored, as my attire was de rigueur. Once I got into Pittsburgh, though, I got stares, and one guy found it necessary to mock me by saying, as I waited for my luggage, in toothy redneck-ese, "Well, I reckon we're in for a cool snap." He laughed right at me and clearly thought he was the cleverest man since Shakespeare, and so did the bimbo on his arm. This from a guy who was wearing a leather jacket with billiard balls on the back. Beside the point, I was forced to respond in perfect Pittsburghese, "What kinda jagoffs are yinz anyway?" Then in upper-crusty English accent, "It's just a hat, for heaven's sake. Do, get a life for yourself." Not a witty retort, I realize, but it certainly shut him up. I think I confused him. Dick.

One other time, my friend and I went to Metropol (a formerly-cool Pittsburgh night club)and she wore a hat that she had bought at a thrift store. It was clearly vintage and had a very cool 40's vibe. Back in the day, Metropol was a place where you could express yourself with strange garment decisions, and nobody would be bothered by it. But by then, it had turned into a backwards-hat-fraternity-asshole paradise. These stupid walking beer bongs had no idea what the music was even about, and the cool punkers had moved on. So anyway, the hat got stares and a few mean comments.

And so, I put it out there: Why are folks so threatened by someone who can boldly be different? Why would people judge you by your hat? Does this make any sense at all? And furthermore, why is the baseball cap the only legal hat these days? I like hats and I want to wear them all the time. Can we all just please wear hats? Do I need to create a national holiday? I have many cool hats and I'm afraid of wearing them.

So that's it. National Hat Week. I'll figure out the dates and create a button if you will all vow to be chapeau-ed. Wheeeee!

Nerd

Well, now here's a real shocker.

Meatless

(or, Why I'm a Vegetarian)

Kelly put the question out there, and I will answer it here. I have railed against meat many times on my blog, and I suppose it's time for me to come clean and explain exactly why I choose to follow a meat-free path. I do not consider myself to be a true vegetarian, because I sometimes eat fish (ONLY wild-caught), and am not above taking a wee taste of my husband's Chang's Spicy Chicken from time to time. That said, I otherwise do follow a vegetarian diet. The reasons for this are probably different from any others you'll see, because I am slightly crazy. I choose to avoid meat for the following reasons:

1. I love animals. I love them all. I am such a sucker for them that it's ridiculous. Despite that, I do not think it's wrong to eat them. I just think it's wrong for ME to eat them, and I think each person needs to make an educated decision about this. I know that I would not kill a cow, not even from a distance. I just could not do it. Therefore, it is wrong to let someone else do it for me, clean up the smelly guts and carnage, and then serve me a "burger". Not a lump of dead cow flesh, a "burger." That's crap, and I'm a hypocrite as soon as I take that first juicy bite. It's the sanitized, misleading form of death.

2. I am disgusted by the degeneration of "animal" into "product". I would more willingly eat a deer that someone shot than a Big Mac, because at least that deer was allowed to be a deer while it lived. Chickens have their beaks and feet cut off on poultry (and even egg) farms. Cows are fed completely unnatural diets and treated like, well, like cattle. Veal, hmmmmph, don't EVEN get me started. Pigs, proven more intelligent than dogs, are often left for dead when they fall off of livestock trucks, and suffer for hours and even days. To me, this is appalling and makes me actually cry. So again, I'm a hypocrite at the first bite of crispy, delicious bacon.

3. I may be a registered Republican, but I'm not crazy. I think when God said we have dominion over the Earth, I think he meant to entrust us with its care, not its rape. Certainly not the adulteration of everything that is beautiful about life, which is what I believe modern farming practices do. And abortion, and capital punishment. And before you get all over me with the tired, old "what about the poor vegetable" argument, rest assured that it has been duly considered. The vegetable doesn't come when you call it. If you can't see the difference there, then I just feel sorry for you. When I cry, my dog jumps on my lap, shaking, and licks my face. No ear of corn ever did me aught.

4. I am thoroughly disgusted with people who willingly bite into a piece of chicken while being appalled that a Chinese restaurant would serve cat. I ask you, what the hell is the difference? An animal is an animal. These unthinking people are valuing one worthless beast over another, and how stupid is that? I say with all sincerity, if the thought of eating your cat or dog makes you sick, then so should the thought of eating a cow. Pick.

All that said, if you DO choose to eat meat, I say, "fine!" and I will never hound you about it or try to ruin your dinner. I do not feel disgust when a dining companion eats a big porterhouse. I won't even bring it up, unless they ask. Hell, I even cook it for my family. I'd rather not, but I do it. For me, it is a personal choice. I feel better about myself and the world when I am meat-free. It is a choice about which I feel very passionate. I have no problem with others making their own choice as well. I just hope upon hope that it is a thoughtful choice.

I can't go on and on about hypocrisy while being a giant hypocrite myself. It's a struggle sometimes, but I must always try. Living with honesty is always a struggle because complacency is so easy. If I don't at least make an earnest effort, I'll be just like every hypocrite liberal.

And so, there you have it.

PS. It also doesn't hurt that my cholesterol, at last check, was 110.

Alarming

OK, Bill O'Reilly reported that four Philadephians were arrested for "hate speech" for quoting the Bible in public. They were protesting a gay pride event. I am not making any suggestions about my own feelings toward homosexuality, as they are irrelevant, but this story is most alarming. Check out the link. Now, back to my useless drivel...

Feet

I hate it when people think they are so brilliant and artistic because they took pictures of their own feet.

Hair

OK, here's what I want to know: Do men prefer women with long hair? That's all I want to know. Is this a real preference, generally? If so, why? Just very curious. Wow. Talk about your un-deep posts.