is there such thing as a bad onion?

In honor of the pending doom that is the start of our respective school years, Sarah, Charita and I decided to continue family dinner every Sunday (a "tradition" inspired by the unofficial HHS class of '05 reunion a couple weeks ago here). This week's charge: chicken enchiladas.

Pretty much anything I cook that isn't my family macaroni and cheese or cake from a box, I have to utilize some serious hand holding. Because even if you have a recipe, there's still an assumed level of culinary background that just makes the whole thing too damn complicated. Take today, for example. Weakley and I decided to go off the cuff and figure out the enchiladas ourselves, without having to call our mommas for advice. Several problems immediately presented themselves:

1. I did not realize that enchilada sauce is not the same thing as salsa. Thus resulting in an argument in the Hispanic food aisle with Sarah, while intermittently commenting on the Phil Collins blaring in the background. We got some good laughs out of our fellow shoppers. Also helpful because the sauce can conveniently had a recipe on it so we had at least some direction.

2. I knew that onion would taste good, but realized that I neither knew which color of onion to choose, nor what constitutes a "good" onion. Firm or soft? Aromatic or no? I went with the assumption that onions should not be squishy, and the yellow one was the cheapest, so done and done.

3. I would have killed us all if I'd been in charge of the cooking, because thanks to my father I assume anything going in the oven doesn't need to be pre-cooked. Again, Weakley with the save.

They should be done in about 20 minutes, so we'll see if our improvising will pay off. I'm suspicious of the decision to go with the cayenne pepper...

And as a side note, the link to good onions is quite insightful. An excellent place to start for all you other kitchen novices.

can I get an amen

For some reason the past 48 hours have been brim full of introspection. Blame it on Teach for America, if nothing else.

It started with my mom asking me to help her with her Sunday School lesson for the week about support systems. I blanked when she asked "so how did you make all those huge changes in your life over the past 2 years? What was your support system?" I mean the obvious answers of great friends and my family came to mind, but more than anything else, it was more based in beings successful in spite of local connections. I wanted to prove to others, and myself, that I could create my own life, friends, living arrangements, and job without a hand to hold that was closer than 1,000 miles away.

Finding a church was no different. Unlike some church-reared, I've been through the experience of being the new kid on the block. It's easier in a sense when you're in high school because all the kids your age are in the same room (whether or not they like you is entirely a different story). But now, adjusting to flying solo in a new church is a whole new kind of awkward. One of the reasons I've kept going back to my church here is that so far, a new person has gone out of his/her way each week to greet me. It hasn't led to being remembered, per say (aggravated by my bouncing between the two services based on how much I feel like sleeping in), and sometimes I wonder if I would get the same reaction if I wasn't sitting alone.

I was going to conquer my ultimate fear of single-church living today by hitting up the all church picnic after the one service; I totally chickened out. And as much as I can blame it on the iffy weather, it was more just the terror of standing in the grass chowing on my burger and not having anyone to talk to.

So to answer you, mom, I guess I'm not as independent as I claim to be.

Abc's

As I head into my second year of teaching, I feel like I need to get a weight off my chest. For years, I've paraded around with this sense of superiority for knowing the correct use of a semicolon and the difference a hyphen makes in the word pompom (one is a weapon, the other is a fluffy symbol of school spirit).

But I can't spell to save my life.

Part of me blames this on growing up in the technology age. Even though we didn't get a home computer until I was in middle school, I wasn't exactly using complex compound words in my riveting* 5th grade report on the Stout-Hearted Seven. After that, automatic spell check became my crutch. Who needs to know where the a's and e's go when a little red squiggle line will gently remind you that you're an incompetent* user of the English language? As a result I also have very little tolerance for spelling errors in typed documents. The red squiggle is your best friend. Use it.

I could also blame this on my father, who, an English teacher himself back in the day, would bribe my sister and I to proofread his syllabus each year. Even now, my mom reads over any business* letter or document before he'll send it with confidence.

Only a few of my students caught on to my ironic existence* when they would ask how to spell a word and I would have to sit at the board with a furrowed brow and, after several erased attempts, tell them I wouldn't take points off if they guessed wrong. I vowed to NEVER be one of those teachers who answers the question of "how do you spell ____" with "D-I-C-T-I-O-N-A-R-Y." First of all, a dictionary is just another reason for johnny to have something to throw out the window. But secondly, you have to already know how to spell a word in order to find it in a timely fashion. For the 4th grade spelling bee I missed the word "immediately," and was sent to the dictionary to correct my error. But when my error was starting with an e instead of an i, an hour later I was in tears at my desk and may or may not have said some choice words to the long-term substitute.

I'm sure there's some sort of CD-ROM I could invest in that would teach me the rules for keeping/dropping vowels in compound nouns (judgment* always kills me), but honestly I'd rather invest in Rosetta Stone software. After all, spelling in Spanish is so much easier...

*denotes any word I originally misspelled in this post.

planes, trains, and a Vermont adventure

Train:
pro:

• excessive leg room. As in my legs didn't touch the seat in front of me if I put my knees up
• No one asks me if I want a beverage every 20 minutes
• (could also be a con): no security lines. I could've packed 20 pounds of shampoo and no one would have been the wiser.
• more spacious bathroom facilities
• less likely to be sitting next to a screaming child with ear problems from the pressure changes
• access to a cell phone, and outlets to charge said phone or other electronic devices
• significantly cheaper
  

con:

• 13 hours, and I only took enough OTC drugs to sleep for about 4 of these.
• The last 4 hours I had to ride backwards because of the track changes. No good.
• More likely to be sitting next to a screaming child because they're stuck on a train for 6 hours and can see freedom just beyond the window.
• no window shades
• no safety information presented except to mind the gap
  

Plane:
pro:

• Only takes about 4 hours, including layover.
• Easier to sleep
• more acceptable to fear for your life due to the possibility of freak accidents.

con:

• Two small planes in a row. I could tell you the eye color of every passenger, aka TOO SMALL.
• 30,000 feet in the air, including a stint over a large body of water.
• Larger ratio of wasted time due to my freakish need to arrive at an airport no later than 2 hours before takeoff.

Jury is still out on which I'll choose next time...

call me in 62 years (updated)

Lessons from my grandmother over the past four days:

1. "If you play with boys, you can end up pregnant. And a lot of boys are very convincing."

2. Always take the champagne if it's an option. Time of day is irrelevant.

3. Pie makes an excellent addition to any breakfast. Especially chocolate chip pie.

4. When you get older, you should find a younger man, because the old ones are only interested in your money. (I tried to convince her the younger ones were probably only after the money too, to which she responded "but yes they're more clever about it.")

5. Anyone scared to ride a motorcycle is a wimp.

6. Amanda (17 year old niece): "Yeah my boyfriend is coming over later."
Grandma: "So how many do you have?"
Amanda: "boyfriends?...um just one at a time."
Grandma: "oh well that's no fun. You gotta at least double up."

7. (while posing for a picture): "sex and cheese. oh wait, does that mean I have to choose between one? Can't do it."

snapshot from the vermonter 056 train

Somewhere between nyc and hartford, CT, a young man got on the train and, after pacing for a seat, chose the one across the aisle from me. At first I was quite pleased, since he is not exactly sore on the eyes and seems about my age.

A little past the hartford stop he got out his computer. As I was currently on my 4th episode of gilmore girls so far this trip, I glanced over to see if my aisle mate had similarly good taste for frivilous televison.

Heks watching P90X, an intense workout video for those of you who have yet to be assaulted by tony. But no, not just watching it. Rewinding to watch the scenes with women in spandex shorts and neon sports bras do push ups to work off the theoretical .5 lbs of body fat left on their chisled frames.

He's watching workout porn.and not even the carmen electra or kim kardashian poser workout kind. p90x makes you lose weight for no other reason that you're afraid if you don't finish that last mountian climber, tony will jump out of the tv and punch you in the abs because he knows you don't have any.

And this guy definitely knows that I know, because at one point he caught my wayward glances of shock and just gave the "I do what I want but still think I'm attractive so we should hang out" head nod.

7 more hours to go...

gearing up for round two

In the past 18 days, I have visited the: U.S. Capitol, Baltimore Museum of Art, Smithsonian of the art, american history, natural history, and zoo varieties, Supreme Court, Library of Congress, National Geographic museum (probably my favorite of the bunch), Union Station, Mt. Vernon, Alexandria, Ocean City, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, monuments of the Lincoln, Washington (both D.C. and Baltimore), World War II, and Vietnam varieties, Ford Theatre, and Ace Hardware.

Needless to say, Saturday entailed a very long nap.