Sunday, June 13, 2010

Delish. Nutrish.

Pistachio Chicken......mmm-hmm.

2 chicken breasts
a bunch of pistachio nuts, deshelled
some mayonnaise

Oven = 350 degrees



Chop up the pistachios.  Use a knife, a rolling pin, or (my preference) a blender.

Take a chicken breast, butterflied, coat in mayonnaise, roll in chopped nuts.

Lay carefully into a non-greased, warmed pan and flip after a couple of minutes.  This is just to brown the nuts and seal them together.  Don't worry if it falls apart.  You can eat the pieces....yumyumyum.

Once both sides are browned, put in a non-greased, glass casserole dish and throw it in the oven for twenty or twenty-five minutes.  Just until the chicken is no longer pink.



Tonight, we had this with wild rice and a BIG glass of cooooooool milk.  Happy tummy :)

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Cherries & Berries



Yesterday I saw someone get pulled over by a cop. On foot. On the Interstate. I'm not kidding!

I drove past the police officer who stood next to his motorcycle, spread-legged stance, radar gun to his eye, and just as I passed him, he walked out to the middle of the road and waved to the car behind me to pull over. I was genuinely impressed.

My husband has never gotten a speeding ticket, and he likes to bring up this point every time I tell him to slow down. He's been pulled over, I don't know, three? four times? Once we were picking some friends up from the airport and we got pulled over shortly after Rod made a wrong turn.

The officer asked his normal question: "Do you know how fast you were going?"

"60?" was my husband's innocent response.

"65. And do you know what the speed limit is here?"

"No, sir, I don't"

"It's 40."

Rod looked like he was about to puke. I was this close to searching the back seat for an empty paper bag or something, but I didn't want the cop to think I was reaching under the seat for my gat.

Long story short, the officer let us go after realizing we were lost. I could. Not. Believe it. It's like Rod has this magic ticket-deflecting aura around him.


My best story is that I was going 42 in a 30 and the lady-cop (whom I did not recognize) let me go saying, "I enjoy seeing you sing in church, so I don't want to give you a ticket." I thanked her and then the Lord.

When I told my friends at church, they were not impressed. "Well you're not a very good witness, are you?"




If I ever get pulled over again, I hope it's by an officer on foot. That is just so cool.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Mirror, mirror, on the wall....

When the only mirror you have in your house is about the size of a cafeteria serving tray and is bolted to the wall in your bathroom, you have to improvise when it comes to checking out your full-length self. You could just be boring and bring a step stool into the bathroom to make sure your paisley skirt and yellow peasant shirt at least kind of go together...but if you're like me, you get much more creative.

Sometimes I use the oven door. Sometimes (if it's dark outside) I'll use the bedroom window. But today I spent a fair amount of time standing in the living room staring into the dark television screen. Mind you, I was not checking my posture or coordinating my shoes with my shirt...I was posing. With my guitar.

My mom bought me a guitar strap for my birthday in April, and since then I have been practicing playing while standing up. This is not an easy feat, considering I have spent the last three years as a guitar player sitting on my buns. I realize now what bad habits this created in my "form." Bending over to see the strings, holding the guitar at an angle so I can check the placement of my fingers. Not good things.

So half the time I practice now, I do it standing up. And today, I caught my reflection in the TV and decided to experiment with different ways to stand while playing my guitar. Feet spread wide like an A. Or close together and slightly turned out like a ballerina. I even tried the I'm-really-getting-into-this-song-and-I-look-like-I-have-to-pee stance, which honestly looked the coolest.

After about 5 or 10 minutes of testing my new rock star poses, I realized how absurd I was acting, pulled myself together, and closed the TV cabinet. It's sickening how distracted I can get with my own reflection. I'm like a gerbil or something.