Life is Complicated and Then...

Life is complicated and then...it just becomes more so. Yes, that's how I feel at the moment. It is 4:01AM on December 1st. As the photo attests, we are back home in sunny south Florida where today's, oops, no that was yesterday's temperature, was eight-two degrees Fahrenheit and the sky was as blue as Paul Newman's eyes. There were big, puffy, white clouds reigning over all. Is home good?...youbetcha it is!

It's now the wee hours of Saturday morning. We arrived home late Thursday afternoon. Our flight was two hours late out of London. We had arrives at Heathrow at 7AM, having awakened at 5AM. It, for once, due to the hour, was an easy drive into London. We returned the rental car and were shuttled to terminal 3. Because it was not yet even 7 o'clock in the morning, checking in and going through security was a breeze. Heathrow is the world's busiest airport so any measure of mercy getting in or out of there is much appreciated. We are always early airport arrivers. We'd rather sit and people watch than feel hurried. We had a really nice breakfast after which John settled in to obsessively watch the monitor that announces flights and gates even though ours wouldn't be posted for hours, while I strolled through all the high end duty free shops. I swear, I am having some kind of a life alterting change going on...I couldn't find a thing to buy. I'm worried about me.

After killing a whole bunch of time, we trudged down to our announced gate only to kill a whole bunch more time. There was some sort of baggage snafu, then a maintenance snafu and finally we boarded two hours late. The flight itself was uneventful except that I spent almost two hours sobbing my eyes out. No, it wasn't British Airways fault. I chose to watch the movie "Away From Her" based on an Alice Monroe novel and starring Julie Christie, who is still unbelievably gorgeous these forty five or so years after Dr. Zhivago, as a woman with Alzehimer's who must separate from her husband to live in a care facility. What a poignant movie. I cried more in this movie than I do watching "Imitation of Life" with Lana Turner and I've been sobbing through that one in reruns on late night Television for forty years.

Somehow, we made up an hour's time arriving in Miami only one hour late. My poor Dad was there waiting to pick us up. I love to travel. I love England and adore France. I'm always glad when we leave home for six weeks or so and rebond with our English family BUT...I love to come home to the states and to the people I love. I love our big highways and our fast pace and vast expanse of land. I am an America, a true baby boomer born as this country entered the 1950s. I've never known a time without television or two car families and really have little memory of a time without MacDonalds. I do admit to remembering the advent of color televison though...I was seven or eight. Our neighbors, the LaBells bought a color set, the first one in the neighborhood and to show off invited us over to watch the Rose Bowl Parade on New Year's day....wow! Afterwards, my brother and I begged Dad for a color TV, but he refused on the grounds that he is color blind! Well, all of that was a huge digression. Suffice it to say, I was thrilled to be home. I immediately shed my socks and my sweater and threw kisses to the palm trees we passed as we left the airport.

We arrived at my folk's house where my stepmom had prepared dinner for us. The French home exchangers were spending their last night at our house so we were sleeping five doors away at my folk's place. We ate and tumbled into bed as it was after midnight UK time and we had been up for almost twenty hours. I of course slept five hours and was up at 1 AM which was 6AM UK time. I watched TV and played on the computer until my dad arose at 5 AM and I had a playmate. Finally John crawled out of bed at seven or so. We showered and ate breakfast.

At ten, we headed up to our house to pick up our exchange partners and drive them all the way back to Miami. We dumped our suitcases in our house. I quickly found shorts, flipflops and a t-shirt to wear and changed. All of my tan has vanished. We loaded up the Frenchies' suitcases and headed off to Miami, dropped them and headed the ninety minutes home. We stopped for lunch on the way back, someplace in Ft. Lauderdale and I had a huge cheeseburger, American style...manna from heaven! Close to home I made a mad dash into the grocery for essentials.

I have six weeks worth of mail to sort, cases to unpack, laundry to do etc.. Today, in about four hours, we head up to Orlando to pick Taffy up from David and Tina. We'll overnight there and return home Sunday. And here's the kicker....

Upon our arrival home, we were notified by Ralph, our friend/rental agent, that he has rented our house out from December 15th to April 15th. We have twelve days to get this place packed up, dressers and closets empty, kitchen and bathrooms empty and so on and so forth as well as packing up the travel trailer to head off across the country for four months accompanied by my English BIL and SIL. I am trying to remain calm. But, if you're wondering why I can't sleep...it's a bit more than jet lag...try jet lag combined with high anxiety. John on the other hand, napped twice this afternoon, went to bed at 8PM tonight and is still snoring. I am waiting for the sun to rise over the palm trees...

Forget the Keys...

After entertaining at dinner Sunday evening, we were scheduled to leave for the Keys bright and early Monday morning.  To that end, I really scurried around until late Sunday night cleaning, straightening and packing up.  I finally got to sleep around 2 AM and then spent the rest of the night tossing and turning.  When I'd finally fall asleep, I be jolted upright by huge house-shaking rolls of thunder and sharp cracks of lightning.  By 5:30AM I was on the computer checking weather reports for South Florida.  Thunderstorms scheduled everyday until Thursday (today) and we were scheduled to come back home on Friday anyway.  I made the executive decision to cancel our trip.

 

We have had solid rain here Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  Pretty much torrential rains.  Our little lake is almost up to our back door.  There is palm bark everywhere.  This morning though, the sun is shining.  I have not been dismayed by not going camping.  I enjoy just being home.  Let's see, what have I done?  Well, for one thing I have spent a fair amount of time trying to teach Taffy to "Sit, down, roll over."  Actually, I've spent hours and hours.  Let's put it this way...she's not the smartest fur coat on the rack. 

When I taught Razz, she learned the command in about an hour and worked for small chunks of Swiss cheese.  I've been working with Taffy three times a day for the past three days and had to up the ante to Beggin' Strips.  The kicker is that she already knows "sit" and "down" so it's just the "Over" part we're doing that's new.  I sit on the floor and ad nausea repeat, "sit" (she sometimes "spins" (another trick I taught her) instead of sitting, then I yell "down" pointing to the floor and she goes down, but she's so excited she's twitching all over, then I grab her harness and roll her over shouting "OVER!" and then give her the Begging Strip.  She grabs the Begggin' Strip and starts spinning in circles before running and hiding under the dining room table to eat it. Every single time I have to haul myself up off the carpet and crawl under the dining room table to haul her out by her harness to go through the routine again. I look up at John who is sitting in his recliner with a book and say “She’s no Razz, is she?” He becomes all defensive and tries to explain everything away by saying “Well, she is Welsh, you know.” Evidently if I were English as he is, I’d understand the ramifications of his pronouncement based upon the dog’s heritage and ancestry.

 

When I roll Taffy over, I realize how fat she's gotten since Razz died on November 3rd at 4.57PM (not that I'm still traumatized by it or anything).  She's like a little barrel.  People will ask me, "Is Taffy still grieving for Razz?"  My eyes tear up at the very mention of Razz and I look over at that little traitor Taffy and reply, "Hell No she doesn't grieve and never did!  She was just as happy as could be to see Razz go!  ALL the food is HERS!  ALL the toys are HERS!  ALL the attention is HERS!  SHE has Daddy all to herself.  And, I've practically moved into the guest room to sleep because SHE and HER precious "Daddy”, as she refers to him sleep right smack dab in the middle of the king sized bed leaving me no room.  And, .they both snore.  No, she does not miss my beloved Razz Ma Tazz." Anyway, I am determined that this little spoiled scoundrel, the “other woman” in my life, is going to work for her treats. She and her “Daddy” may not remember, but long before I became an administrator, I was a teacher. I taught severely emotionally disturbed urban inner-city apprentice gang bangers. If I could get them on a behavior mod. reward system for performance I sure as heck can do it for a fur covered idiot savant. If she can, without fail and never vary by 2 minutes, twice a day at 9 AM and 3PM, spring up from a sound sleep, run into the kitchen, jump on the pantry door and bang the holder for her Publix poop bags signifying walk time, she can sure as heck roll over for me. I have no clue how she tells time, especially when we change the clocks and she’s still right on the money.  She’s got until Saturday to get the trick down pat or there will be consequences. I’m not sure what those consequences will be yet, but I can be very creative. And if John says one more time, “oh leave the poor dog alone, she’s not a circus animal, you know”, I’ll think up some consequences for him too! I am if anything….Stubborn with a capital S.

Speaking of the S word. Yesterday between teaching sessions I was determined to make a crème caramel as good as Edith’s. I scoured recipes and combined two that ummm…I dunno, just felt “right.” Husband and I always have big discussions about “intuitive” cooks vs. “cooks.” He contends that I am an intuitive cook which he tries to explain as sort of like being able to draw or paint. I think it’s just more a matter of lots of experience and an analytical mind. Who knows? If I do say so myself, my crème caramel was as good as if not slightly smoother than Edith’s …shhhhhh….I took photos as I went along.

Swirl caramelized sugar (1 cup sugar, 4T water, bring to a boil and boil for about 5 mins until it turns a beautiful golden brown) around glass bowl

5 eggs (I always use jumbo eggs)and 1/4 cup sugar

Wisk eggs with 1/4cup sugar, add 1 cup milk and 1 cup heavy cream, 2 tsp PURE vanilla extract (you cannot cook French and be a cheap cook!  Why do you think French food is so good?)

Bring the egg, sugar, milk, cream, vanilla mixture just to a boil and remove for heat.  Use a good quality heavy pan and stir often.  Cover and let sit for 20 minutes.

Place bowl of carmelized sugar into a roasting pan and fill with boiling water to halfway up the sides of the bowl.  Pour the slightly cooled milk mixture into bowl with carmelized sugar.  Cover with foil.  Pop into a preheated 325 oven for about 40 minutes.  I have a convection oven so your time may vary.  That's why it has that big fan in the back...see?I could not exist without my convection oven.

Check for doness by inserting thin blade knife 2 inces from rim.  Knife should come out clean.  Do not overcook.

Cool for 30 minutes.  Place in refrigerator for at least six hours or overnight.  Remove from bowl by placing a plate over top of bowl and CAREFULLY flipping the whole kit and kaboodle over.  Or if just for family and presentation isn't your thing (we can't all be as uptight as I am) just serve it out of the bowl in which it was cooked.

VOILA'!!!!!!!!!  NOTE:  THIS WAS INCREDIBLY EASY TO MAKE...sort of like sex, once you get past the mystery excitement of it all when you're young, you realize that it was much ado about nothing (don't you love Shakespeare mixed in with sex talk and cooking recipes?)

Last but not least…raise your hand if you think I should go back to work again. Thinking about what I just wrote I sound like a bored, slightly batty ,aging but still youngish and energetic retiree. Obviously, I’m losing it. Think carefully before raising that hand…there but for the grace of whatever goes each of you one day.

Last Night's Dinner in Photos

Perfect Pork Tenderloin

Brown a seasoned (salt, pepper) boneless pork tenderloin in a little bit of olive oil over a medium high heat.  Brown all sides well.  After well browned add a cup or more of finely diced shallots.  Pour in about a cup of white wine or apple juice (I always use wine since I always have a left over opened bottle in the fridge).  Boil/simmer hard until the wine reduces to about half.  Add 3/4 cup of orange juice and a big handful of fresh sage leaves.  Reduce heat to a slight simmer.  Cover and cook until tender.  Don't overcook or it will be difficult to slice.  Remove tenderloin.  Thicken pan juces with 2 T flour (I always use Wondra) mixed with 1/4 cup water.  Cook, adding water until desired thickness is reached.

Perfect French Onion Soup

Go to Costco.  Buy a box of frozen Plat Du Jour French Onion Soup, 6 to a box.  Remove each soup cube from plastic and plop in ovenproof soup dish.  Bake at 400 degrees for 40 minutes or until cheese is browned and bubbly.  It's a No Brainer, but impresses guests who rave over it.

 Skillet Green Beans

Snip ends from green beans.  Sprinkle with lemon juice.  Add a big handful of dice shallots and sprinkle with lots of Adobo Seasoning, and some pepper.  Add 1/4 cup of water.  Cover and steam until tender crisp.  Uncover, cook out liquid, drizz;e with a tiny bit of olive oil.  Place in serving dish.

Skillet Fingerling Potatoes

Once you remove the green beans from skillet, add sliced fingerling potatoes.  Season with salt and pepper.  Drizzle with EVOO and pan fry until browned and crispy.

Edith's Creme Caramel

I once asked E for the recipe.  She said, not in so many words of course, but I interpreted it as, if she told me she'd have to kill me.  I'm still alive, it's still a secret.  Thank goodness for French friends who cook and bring dessert.

Mellow and Then Some

Yes, I am...

Here in our world, there is no weekend.  Everyday is a Saturday or Sunday or holiday.  In some ways that fact makes it a bit difficult to mark the passage of time.  There aren't even any real seasons to help out.  There's "hot as hell summer" and there's "eighty degrees and sunny with a slight breeze and no humidity."  Other than that, well...there really isn't anything else.  Then again, some people believe in "Hurricane Season."  Now that we've got a new roof and have dropped our homeowners insurance because it went up to nine thousand dollars per year, I refuse to acknowledge hurricane season.  We have a plan for it.  As soon as a hurricane seems that it might become a threat, we get in the RV and head in the opposite direction of the predicted path.  I refuse to ever again live through nine days of no water, no power, NO AIR CONDITIONING, night time curfews  Nope, not me.

As part of my mellow morning I turned on the CD player, hit random and have so far heard Louie Armstrong sing "get your kicks on route 66", Jack Johnson crooning "it's better when we're together", Pink Martini singing, "dancez, dancez, dancez vous" and right now a magnificent rendition of "they call her Hard Hearted Hannah, the vamp of  old Savannah" by the magnificent Ella Fitzgerald.  The soundtrack from Chocolat is also on there.  I'm sitting here in the office type type typing and singing away.

Ohhhh, about the flag up there.  We bought the flag pole set up yesterday.  Husband put it up this morning.  I bought the flag for the RV, but can't resist flying it at home also.  It's the UK flag called The Royal Standard.  It is flown at Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle or Balmoral at certain times and signifies that "the queen is in residence."  That's me here, the Queen and I'm in residence so there ya go.  I find it especially funny to fly it on the trailer of a plain ol' American girl at some camp site.  Even my English husband thinks it's funny.  We have neighbors two doors down who are from Surrey.  They're not here yet for the season, but should be soon.  They are staunch royalist/conservatives, veddy properly English.  We'll soon see if they find me as amusing as I do.

Tonight at dinner we will be joined by B, E, C and B.  I'm making a pork tenderloin (it amazes me how often our  many Jewish friends request my pork tenderloin when I invite them to dinner),  fingerling potatoes, sautee'd French green beans, and E's phenomenal creme caramel which she so very generously offered to bring.  I also have six frozen French onion soups thingies from COSTCO.  They're terrific.  Just pop frozen into oven proof handled soup crocks, bake for an hour and serve.

Last night we decided to hop down to the Keys for 5 days.  I quickly jumped online and got us a reservation at Long Key Island state park.  It has 60 camping sites right on the ocean's edge.  We'll throw some food in the RV fridge and leave at nine or so tomorrow morning.  We'll be back Friday evening.  Here's what the RV sites look like. 

OK, I have to go.  I have twenty-five table napkins to iron.  They've been sitting in the basket just calling my name after each dinner.  I'll try to remember to take photos of tonight's dinner.  Before I scamper away, I cannot resist one more photo.  Last week when we were in Orlando granddaughter Keli, age 4, spent way too much time in the pool and became quite cranky and finally had a complete and total melt down.  Son took her in to the naughty chair.  I was soon dispatched to checkon her whereabouts as all had gone quiet.  This is what I found...note the sexy shoes.  We worry about her taste in clothing style.  If I should live long enough, someday I'm going to blackmail her with that photo...