And another one bites the dust....

(I don't feel like writing today, so I'm handing the reins over to my new life coach. Please welcome Miss Prissy Spiffup, my guest blogger.)

To say the least, I was just not prepared for what met me when I stepped in Madame B's sty home. To be fair, it doesn't quite qualify for Clean House or the BBC's How Clean is Your House. There's still walking space, the kitchen is usable and I did not feel the need to use a fire hose. But...the woman does need help.

After what I thought was a tiny dog attacked my purse, I decided that the pets needed attention first. (Later I discovered that it was just a rolling ball of Golden Retriever fur that had self-animated. No teeth.) Five...yes, count them, five cats. Oh.my.gawd. Cats. I rounded up the cat cages and was attempting to remove these offenders from the premises when simultaneously, one of them sunk four-inch long claws (I swear I saw these things in Jurassic Park) into my back, another one defecated in my purse (and then chased the fur ball across the great room), and yet a third vomited on my Pradas, whilst the two Siamese sat atop the china cabinet and laughed at me. Why was I suddenly reminded of Lady and the Tramp?

Okay, so the cats stay, but I banished them to the garage and turned around and was promptly knocked on my derriere by a black and tan fur-covered projectile...with teeth. I think I might have cursed...or passed gas, I'm not sure which. After I peeled the creature off my face, I realized it was a puppy. Ew. I stuffed the puppy into a large crate, presumably meant for just such an occasion and gathered my pearls up from the four corners of the house. Again, ew. More fur balls. Giant fur balls. Immense...oh, wait, that one was a Golden Retriever. He was nice and looked at me with large brown eyes...and then sneezed in my face. After I went home and showered...

Next day. Arrived. The cats were out of the garage and man, were they angry. The Siamese were back up on the china cabinet and I could swear....do cats whisper? The ancient black one was determined to trip me, presumably to make me fall where the puppy could lick me until I drowned or the Golden Retriever could sneeze on me again. Who'd have though such a sweet face was hiding such a sinister mind? I thought quickly and threw handfuls of dog and cat food out in the back yard and then locked the door behind them all.

Dusting off my hands in triumph, I proceeded to face the daunting task ahead. I realized I was still surrounded...not by animals this time, but by mountains of clutter, buckets of dog fur, and dust thick enough I could have sprouted seeds. I pushed up my sleeves, gritted my teeth and set to it.

I paused a moment and looked around...and panicked. Born Organized People like myself were not supposed to quake with confusion like this. Where.to.start? I scowled, I stared down the clutter. It stared back. It howled.

No, that was the dogs at the back door.

I fell back on basic training. One.thing.at.a.time. I put a wadded up paper towel in the trash can and beamed with pride. And then remembered I hadn't put on my rubber gloves. After scrubbing my hands relentlessly for 15 minutes, I returned to the scene of the grime.

The dogs were hurling the cats at the back door.

Okay, logic. I got dusting supplies from my tote and found a step ladder. Dust the ceiling fan, dust the bookshelves. Dust the electronics. I stepped outside to shake out the dust cloth.

I did not know dogs and cats were so fast. Nor that they knew how to work sliding door locks. Yes, those were my keys the Siamese just flushed down the toilet...and my cell phone the puppy was teething on.

Five hours later, when Madame B found me...digging for scraps in the compost heap...I was quite fine, no, really...

Happy Vegesaurus Mouth :)

One of the things I really miss about becoming a vegetarian is good ol' Texas Tex-Mex food. Ground or shredded beef or pork, and chicken, (and things like menudo that you do not want to know what they are) are essential ingredients of Tex-Mex and it's hard to just do refried beans (making sure to either make your own or find the ones without lard in them...lard is an essential ingredient of Tex-Mex, too, after all).

In the past week I've made two discoveries that bring one of my favorite food categories back to the forefront. One is vegetarian chorizo from HEB and the other I just invented tonight: vegetarian enchiladas. Now, you say, many restaurants have vegetarian enchiladas, and you'd be right. But these are ones that I invented and I can make at home and they made my mouth very happy. I made them deep-dish like my grandmother's enchilada pie.

I'm guessing on the amounts, because I had to work with what I had, so these are approximations for three layers in a 9x9 glass baking dish--your mileage may vary, as they say.

1 lb. white mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
1 medium onion, diced to your choice
1 bag fresh baby spinach, chopped into a chiffonade; divide into 3 equal portions
5-6 garlic cloves, finely diced--or the equivalent in a bottled, minced garlic, about 2 heaping tsp.
Salt, cumin, and chili powder
1 doz corn tortillas
1 lb of Colby longhorn or Colby jack cheese, grated (I was not picky about this, but if it matters to you, find a rennet-less brand)
1 can vegetarian enchilada sauce--I used Rosarita. My old time fave, Gebhardt's, it turns out, has rendered beef fat in it.
1/4 cup vegetable oil
butter
1/3 cup red wine (I used Shiraz because it's what I had.)
Optional: cilantro, cayenne, sour cream topping,, diced avocados (for a topping)

Preheat the oven to 400˚ F.

Melt the butter in a large skillet, sauté the onions, garlic, and spices until soft. This would be the time to add the cilantro and/or cayenne, if you wanted them.

Add the mushrooms and a bit more butter. Cook the mushrooms for a few minutes, then add the wine, keep the mix moving and cook the mushrooms down until they are soft and well-coated in the onion-wine mix. I like my mushrooms cooked a bit more than I think a lot of people do--just remember that you don't want them crunchy, but they will be in the oven for awhile, too. Just make sure the wine is cooked down...you might even want to add it to the onion mix before adding the mushrooms.

*With your fingers, coat the tortillas, one at a time, with the oil and tear them in roughly 2-inch pieces. Place one layer of the tortilla pieces in the bottom of the dish. Overlap the pieces and cover the bottom. Place one portion of the spinach on the tortillas in an even layer. Layer 1/3 of the mushroom/onion mix on top of the spinach.

Layer 1/3 of the grated cheese on the mushrooms, then pour 1/3 of the enchilada sauce on that.

Repeat from the * two more times and top with a bit more of the grated cheese.

Pop in the 400˚ oven for 15-20 until it's bubbly on top. Remove from oven and allow to cool/set for 10-15 minutes. Cut and serve like lasagna and top with sour cream, fresh cilantro, and/or avocado, if you like.

Happy vegesaurus mouth!

Why web?

It’s a fair question. Why do a web page? Because everyone’s doing it? Because it’s a free, fairly safe way to express your exhibitionism? An outlet for frustrated authors? A venue for your repressed need to teach? Someplace to thrust the kabillion pics of your grubby toddler on the world? All of these?

My friend who helped me connect up WordPress to my StartLogic account (why is everything now XxxxXxxx?) asked me this same question, “Why do you want a webpage?” Well, more correctly, she asked me what I was going to use it for. I had to think about it for a moment. At one time, I was an active costumer in the SCA and wanted to post photos and “this is how I did its” on my site. Maybe force some of my pathetic writing on people. Although, it’s very difficult to force anything on anyone on the web, since you can always navigate away from the page—that solves the grungy toddler pics right there.

This made me start thinking about why the average Joe, or Jo-Anne, puts up a webpage. I think we have something to share. Even if it’s some crackpot notion like the faking of the moon landing or bizarre conspiracy theories. After all, the person posting those sees them as valid and something worth sharing with the rest of the world. I’d like to find some tranylcipromine and share it with them, but that’s for another post.

Some bloggers have huge following and their lives become endlessly fascinating to their fans, so they put up a website. Witness “Dooce.” At one time, Dooce was hilarious. Her rants against motherhood and other institutions were infamous. But then she went commercial, and even worse…she got pregnant. During her pregnancy, she was still funny, but afterwards…it was kind of like after Kathleen Woodiwiss got religion: her novels sucked. Heather's (Dooce) angle has changed (she had a nervous breakdown, too) and I would imagine that for the most part she now has an entirely different fan base. She must have one, since she’s still up and running and has two (count ‘em) books out. And, just be damned if she didn’t drop another spud this month, too. Life is odd.

Why do you web?