Yes, the rumors are true: There will be a "Cars 3," and hopefuls already are lining up for auditions. (Photo taken on U.S. 72 West between Barton and Cherokee, Ala.)
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Category Archives: Alabama
I Chopped Vegetables — And Didn’t Hurt Myself!
I love taking cooking classes. It’s so much fun to be with other folks who
— as hard as this is to believe — are as culinarily-challenged as I am. Yes, it’s true — there are a few of them out there. However, it’s also true that most cooking-class students are talented and innovative food fans who want to improve their skills and increase their repertoire. I mainly just like to eat. Every once in a while, though, I am able to impress. Such as during a recent class I took at the Shoals Commercial Culinary Complex. “Ah, you’ve done this before,” the instructor/chef said as he observed my onion-chopping technique: While keeping the ends intact, slice the onion in half and then half again to give yourself a flat base to work from, remove skin but don’t slice off ends, then make horizontal cuts and then vertical cuts and then cross-cuts, resulting in quick and easy diced onion. Of course, I learned that from my friend Sherry, who is a Shoals-famous cook and cooking instructor now working far away from home. Temporarily, we all hope. I mean, the chef teaching in her absence at the Culinary Complex is a nice guy. He knows what he’s talking about and is helpful and patient and everybody enjoys his classes. But is he Southern sassy? Does he know the difference between oatmeal and grits? Is he willing to stop at every Starbucks he sees on a road trip? Come home, Sherry! We miss you! I’ll even chop up some vegetables in your honor.
Reflections
It was a good weekend for reflecting ... and telling the people you care about that you love them. (Photo taken 9/10/11 on Wilson Lake at Doublehead Resort, Town Creek, Ala.)
Eats, Shoots and Tofu
Picking the right spot for lunch is important. It can set the tone for the rest of your day, so you want to make sure you get it right. For example, if you’re in Huntsville, Alabama, and you want someplace quiet and sleek and soothing in a grownup sort of way, then go to Sun Cafe on Old Monrovia Road. This gem of a restaurant offers Asian dishes and an innovative sushi bar along with attentive service that is so good you’ll be in & out within your alloted lunch time without ever once feeling rushed — or abandoned. The food is flavorful and fresh, and you’ll return to your desk feeling reinvigorated. Unless, of course, you’re there at the same time as we were: a trio of grandmother, 7-months-pregnant Older Daughter and incumbent grandson 3-year-old Capt. Adorable. Older Daughter and I, for the most part, behaved ourselves. and the Captain did not misbehave, exactly. He just, in his usual “I-love-everybody-and-I’m-quite-sure-everybody-loves-me-too” 3-year-old way, talked to everybody he could see when standing up in our booth. And then, when socializing got too much and he needed a break, he flopped down on the cushion to take a quick nap before popping back up to continue his conversations. Luckily, everybody there smiled patiently and thought to themselves, “I would never allow MY children to behave like that out in public,” seemed equally as delighted to share their lunch hour with the Captain, so it all turned out okay. And I have to apologize for the lack of photos here. I’ve got a new camera — a Nikon P90S or something — that I’m still figuring out how to use. My centuries-old Kodak EasyShare was a clunker in comparison, and I’m unlearning all the quirky bad habits I had to develop to work around the Kodak’s limitations. It’s as if my new camera can actually read my thoughts and KNOW what I want to do before I actually do it. This means I have to think nice thoughts such as “Oh, the light is lovely there so I need to press the shutter NOW” instead of “Why won’t this #$%^& shutter press when I want it to?” It’s a challenge.
These Are Not Your Mother’s Maternity Clothes — But If They Are, Ask If You Can Borrow Them
Have you seen maternity clothes lately? If you didn’t know these photos were taken in a baby/maternity boutique,
would you have guessed? These are from Older Daughter’s current favorite shopping destination — Posh Mommy, in Madison, Ala. At close to seven months pregnant with 3-year-old grandson Capt. Adorable’s younger brother, she ends up here anytime she’s got a few spare minutes. Her favorite part of the store is the baby and children’s sections – more on that later — but she’ll still wander through the maternity aisles and point out her favorites. However, always the practical one, she won’t let me buy her one of these pretty dresses since, as she says, “I don’t go to an office anymore and I just wear yoga pants and t-shirts all the time so you should save your money.” But she looks beautiful and glowing in whatever she wears, and since she generally has better financial sense than I do, I keep nagging her to try something on until she gets irritated and goes to look at receiving blankets graciously give in and do what she wants. Back to my original questions, though. Did you realize maternity clothes now are practically indistinguishable from regular clothes? I first noticed this trend four years ago during our first round of maternity shopping, but this time it’s even more pronounced. And I think I know why: Maternity clothes have become much more stylishly mainstream in the past 30 years or so (combining runway details with hidden expanding-tummy tricks) and, at the same time, regular clothes have become much more maternity-like (with empire waists, soft fabrics and flowing lines). It’s as if the two met in the middle and created a love-child of chic and sexy yet comfortably wearable non-maternity maternity wear. And yoga pants.
Jana & Claire: Do Not Read This Post. Look Away! Thank You.
My house was blooming the other night when friends who are co-hosting a bridal shower for the daughter of another BFF came over to make tissue-paper flowers for the decor. These colorful blossoms have been popping up everywhere recently — I see them in store windows and displays. They’re even Martha-Stewart-approved, and she has a video tutorial on how to make them. But we tapped in to our many-decades-ago high-school memories of decorating homecoming floats and transforming gyms into dance floors and didn’t even need Martha’s help. You just layer sheets of tissue paper, pleat as if you’re making a fan, fold in half and scrunch up the center and secure with a pipe cleaner. Then, it’s on the fun part of separating the layers and shaking them out into a flower. We got better with each attempt and soon were experimenting with different colors and sizes. We’re not exactly sure what we’re going to do with them now, but they sure are impressive! This is easy
enough for even awkward, uncoordinated and clumsy non-crafty folks like me to attempt and yet creative enough for talented crafters, like my friend on the left in the photo above, to be inspired. You see, after our flower-making marathon, she went home and stayed up until 2 a.m. making corsages out of fabric and netting, using the same tissue-paper principle. I, on the other hand, drank more wine and went to bed.
P.S. I warned Jana & Claire, the mother of the bride-to-be and the bride-to-be herself, not to look at this post, but they probably did and now are hoping that my flowers somehow don’t make it to the shower in favor of the gorgeous ones everybody else created. But I’m redeeming myself by bringing coffee and herb-cheese biscuits, so maybe that will help.
Teenagers, Parents and Peach Jam
To all parents who look at their teenagers — those strange alien creatures who know everything and about everything and believe you know nothing about anything — and cannot imagine them as coherent and responsible adults, I promise there’s hope. For instance, let’s say you have a teenage daughter who sports purple hair and multiple piercings (when she can get away with it) and has the annoying habit of seeing how far she can stretch your patience parental boundaries. I just
happened to randomly pick this example, by the way. Nothing to do with any real person at all. Not at all. Anyway, if you’re in this situation, do not despair. It will seem as if one day your teenager incurs multiple weekends of enforced home time due to multiple infractions of parental rules (“No. 3. Being home by curfew means all parts of your body are inside the house and the door is closed. It does not mean you’re in the same general zip code.”) and the next day she’s a wife and a mom and a Martha Stewart devotee who gets her whole family involved in making batches of lovely and delicious peach jam. Promise.
The Cookin’ is Easy
When I was little, I hated vegetables. Hated them. Avoided them at any price. Would not eat them unless I was forced to, which generally was in the form of having to stay at the supper table until I cleaned my plate. And we all know how wonderfully delicious cold lima beans are. (Parents!) But now? As a card-carrying adult — and that’s an AARP card — I adore fresh vegetables and eat them any chance I get. Luckily, folks dear to my heart are skilled vegetable cooks so I get to enjoy the fruits of their labors. Such as Older Daughter, who replanted her vegetable and herb garden after the April 27 tornado near Huntsville, Alabama, pretty much flattened it. Today, less than three months later, it’s thriving and healthy and all she has to do is walk across her back yard to get makings for the lightest and most flavorful vegetable & pasta dish ever. I’m not a big fan of pasta — although I love the way Nigella Lawson says it: “Past-ah.” — but I asked for seconds of this. It was that good. And then my friend Evelyn made a yummy summer feast that starred a cool and refreshing watermelon salad along with lightly cooked and delicious yellow squash. Now, what’s for dessert?
My New Favorite Getaway Destination
Isn’t this the prettiest and most relaxing bedroom ever? I stayed over at
a friend’s recently after a particularly energetic book-club meeting (we kept toasting the fact that the hostess’s husband had not set himself on fire when the gas tank ruptured as he grilled our dinner). My friend graciously put me up for the night, and I promise it was like staying in the coziest bed-and-breakfast inn ever. I did not want to leave. I love her color scheme of white with blues, pinks and oranges — it was cool and summery and so clean and fresh. And can you get a close-up of the bedside tables? How cute is that? My friend — oh, let’s call her “Susan,” for no reason whatsoever — loves color and design and knows how to make it all come together. Plus, she’s an excellent shopper and always finds the bargains everybody else passes up. I’m definitely going to have to come up with another excuse to stay here again soon. When’s the next book-club gathering?
The Captain Gets Crackin’
It’s true I started this grandparenting adventure three years ago with grand dreams of all the wonderful stuff I was going to buy Capt. Adorable. Luckily, his parents — Older Daughter and Best Son-In-Law Ever — knew better. They’ve created a home where the simple pleasures are valued more than the Toy of the Day. And really, what else does the 3-year-old Captain need for an afternoon of family fun than a $2 bag of unshelled pistachios? At least
that’s what I was hoping when that’s the present I brought to their house recently because grandmas always bring presents. And it was a hit on all levels. First there’s the joy of bypassing the bowl Grandma Kacky conscientiously set out and simply dumping the whole bag on the table. Then there’s the careful consideration of each nut, carefully assessing its ease of crackability and gauging the likelihood for one or both halves and/or the nut itself to go flying across the room when opened. When it comes to the cracking part, extreme concentration is required — and even sometimes requests for some help from above. Finally, there’s that lovely salty and green-nutty satisfying crunch that makes all that hard work worthwhile. Well … for the Captain, anyway. After going through about two-thirds of the bag, he hops down and is ready for the next adventure — building a pirate ship out of the couch cushions, maybe? — but I have to hurry and find the broom and other cleaning supplies before the Captain’s parents come home and find the huge mess we made so I can impress them with my grandmotherly housekeeping skills.
Coffee with Cathy 