my best attempt at this whole domestic thing

I definitely did not make these delicious looking pancakes.

But I did get a mass email forward that I would typically ignore but the subject line said “Pancakes” so how was I going to pass up a riveting subject like that. It basically told this story about some lady who made her family pancakes from expired pancake mix without realizing it, and how her son said “these taste funny” but ate all of them, and then he died.

It turns out that pancake mix, once expired, can grow some super gnarly mold it grows and people can die from it. Obviously this is horrifying, especially if you read the last post about how I sometimes rebel against expiration dates.

It’s a scary world out there. Death by pancakes? I just wish they had a more believable or legit expiry date system. Its like, some stuff you can’t go one second past (read pancakes) but other stuff (eggs hopefully, oh and Brita filters) you can push a few or even several days. FDA get on it!

Have you ever tried to make Guacamole and really failed? Are you a regular cracka who just can’t get the authentic dip/sauce (which one is it technically?) correct?

Well guess what, its time for a Mexican roommate. We have one and by association I figure I am like 1/4 mexican. He taught us how to make homemade delicious guacamole and since I have the attention span of a ladybug I only picked up on a few of the ingredients and made it randomly with the brief parts I remembered, and it was SO DELICIOUS that it was worth posting here. I had some for dinner along with 3 egg-whites, mainly because I noticed a guacamole was perfect ripeness and also I heard that egg whites are good for you, and also the eggs are expired by 2 weeks but said roommate said it would be okay and also I figure if any part of said egg would be rotten it would probably be the yellow part and not the white. Either way, probably not the gourmet stuff most regular people have for dinner but we plan on going to the gym tonight so I figure as long as we are there for 4 hours, I *might* come close to breaking even on the caloric intake I had for supper. WIN!

Anyway I want to share this cheap and easy guacamole recipe, which by the way I pronounce “hock-a-molee” because I heard its supposed to be like “walk-a-molay” but I’m pretty sure the REAL way to say it is “hoo-wok-a-molay” but I get lazy and it comes out like the first way. I guess this is important because if I am going to share my Hockamolee recipe with the world, it should be known that its the cheater/lazy version of the real stuff. But get real, if you are craving it you just want to make it to eat it already, and not spend half a day getting it together.

So the picture is pretty self explanatory, but if you are like me and need STRICT MEASUREMENTS you need to get together 1 avocado, 3 dollops of sour cream, 10 shakes of pepper, and a quarter size whomp of garlic salt. AND THAT’S IT. You mix it all together and its ready to eat. Oh and also, if you leave the big magical avocado pit in there it stays green and doesn’t turn brown FOREVER! Seriously! We (I) accidentally left it out during a spontaneous Boba run and when we got back only the very skim top layer was slightly gross and discolored…. the rest was bright green like you had just made it. I love nature!!!

After months and months of just laughing at the house horror stories and NOT documenting them here, I realized that one day in the distant future I’m probably going to be contender for world’s most domestic goddess so I better start recording these stories now, so I can look back and laugh at the naive little pre-contender I once was. Basically, how can you really measure your success if you’ve forgotten where you came from??? I realized this after I took a photo of me in an old baggy shirt and nasty sweats while holding a vacuum (waiting for it to warm up) and submitted it to one of those “age enhancement” programs and the above photo came out. And it was a stark and abrupt realization - it was definitely time to start recording these stories more frequently because they wouldn’t be lasting for very long. Not when I’m world’s best domestic goddess ever!

A lot has happened in the past few months! So much that tumblr took a back seat. Sorry tumblr :(

So, this recipe called for “Dry Cooking Wine”, I was bummed we didn’t have any in the house, but figured that was a quick enough fix - tacked it on the the grocery list and off we went. The Albertson’s dude suggested a fine Sherry. Whatever you say man… is it dry? Do we cook with it? Yes. Good enough for me. We purchase, I take home.

Fast forward to weeks later, and I’m like shoot, I have this fine dry cooking wine or whatever, what recipe was that for?? I search and search through my unorganized bamboo recipe box. The one I HAD to have from Bed Bath and Beyond. The one where I was going to hold out and find the perfect recipe box on Etsy.com, but sold out for because Bed Bath and Beyond physically MAKES you buy stuff. How can you not use the 20% off coupon? Its impossible.

I have no idea what I wanted to originally use this stupid wine for, but settle for a crock pot recipe. It sounds awesome and I haven’t messed up a crock pot recipe yet. So I bust out the super fancy wine opener set my mom gave me/let-me-steal, and go about my normal wine bottle opening routine. I’m even impressed with myself because I used the label cutter correctly (something I’d never done before).

EXCEPT! When I crank the arm of the opener back up, NOTHING COMES OUT! I’m like HUH? Did I do this incorrectly? I try it again, this time paying attention. I’m holding it right… I’m driving the arm down into the top right… pull it back up… NOTHING! This is so strange. I try it once more for good measure, and then commence freak out. All of my ingredients are already in the pot! I need this to finish! I’m on my lunch break, I’m running out of time. What the hell. I even try to dribble out 1/2 cup through the 3 holes in the top, but there is no way its going to happen in anything less than 2 hours of dribbling.

Desparation. Think Emily, think!!!!!!! Minutes past. Too many minutes.

Well… guess what. Realization eventually sets in, and it sets in hard. Hard like a 2x4 to the face. Can you believe this cooking wine came with a screw top?!?!?! YOU’RE KIDDING ME. 

Days later… roomie is rummaging through cabinets. Discover’s fine cooking wine. “Emily, why is there 3 holes in the top of this???” Ugh.

I’ve definitely been neglecting posting, an action that can also be applied to the house that has also been getting some serious lack of attention. The whole place has been pretty sloppy lately and in dire need of some legitimate TLC.

Not like any excuse is good enough but there has been plenty of things going on, of which I like to think PERMITS my lack of attention. For one, we had this funny little pup over at hour house while her owners were off traveling in NY for a few days. Motzzi had the time of his life but the house was like really? Can you get ANY MORE fur off of you and onto my carpets? Our usually light blue carpets turned a lovely shade of dark brown for a few days. Side note: we have officially decided to get new flooring. More on that potential disaster soon I’m sure.

Also, organization seems to be a huge issue at the place. It all started going south when our beloved 3 hook fixture (that I inherited from my nephew when he moved out) bit the dust when one-too-many purses was hung from it. I must not have realized the hooks weren’t made for like 100 pounds of purses and book bags and camera bags… but the fact that it ripped out of the wall now just means my items that are meant for hanging are now forlorn and strewn about the place. Its a Stage 4 disaster.

However, I will say that I think a breakthrough is coming… yesterday, approximately 10 minutes after my buddies picked up their little pup, I busted out the glorious vacuum powder (which was now a semi-solid chunk mixed with coffee grounds, thanks to Mr. Sinkerator for busting & leaking again), smashed it inside a ziploc bag thanks for genius roomie to get it back to powder status, and vacuumed like a crazy person for a good doozy. My triangles weren’t perfect but I DIDN’T CARE. It was exhilarating! and clean! and awesome.

Today’s epiphany: there are really only 2 things that have come a really long way. Technology, and fake mashed potatoes.

Ever since pagers were considered cool, I’ve considered boxed mashed potatoes absolutely nasty. I used to gag a little every time I even THOUGHT about them. At my friends house, I would choke down their parents fake taters because lets face it, I was damn spoiled with my own mom’s homemade mashed heavenly goodness.

But the facts are these: I really don’t like grocery shopping to go often to buy fresh taters, and the first (and last) time I bought a bag of potatoes I forgot about them in the cupboard, and by the time I remembered they had grown these monstrous like claws and weird discolored vines that I didn’t know what to do and  just threw them back in the cupboard like the freaks they were. Cat Cora HERSELF could tell me they were ok but I would still have my reserves, they are just not normal. So at Sam’s Club the other day, it had come down to a 50 lb. bag of Russets, or this red box with Idahoan splattered across the top. And going off of pure instinct and the justification that since it says “Idaho” somewhere on it its got to be good, we purchased it and I crossed my fingers.

Fast forward a week to tonight, and after the weekly softball game I just wanted a nice hearty meal. The usual PB&J or lame attempt just wasn’t going to cut it. So on my way home I remembered this AWESOME breaded chicken my mom used to make… they made the house whole smell so delicious, they looked easy enough and man… some mashed potatoes would be so perfect along side them. BUT WHAT IF THESE WERE SUB PAR? What if they made me want to vomit like many past fake taters?

But oh the contrary. They. Were. Awesome. I was sooo doubtful at first. But I even tasted the raw bits and even THEY tasted good! The roommate remains skeptical. But thats because HE DIDN’T TASTE THEM! But Mike flipped out of socks when he saw I had made mashed potatoes, and scarfed all of it down. It was a success :)

Yesterday was this guy’s 2nd birthday.

He’s not exactly an upgrade or new fixture to the house but his presence in the house is definitely worthy of mentioning on here, especially since we make such stark adjustments to our home for him and he doesn’t even pay rent, have a job, or pitch in with household chores. In fact, all he does is eat, sleep, and party up and down the stairs, jumps on our beds, demands attention, is sometimes rude to new guests and is always rude to little kids, and leaves his toys strewn about and doesn’t even care.

However! All he has to do is give us that ONE LOOK, plop right on top of our feet, squeeze his little head by your laptop and onto your keyboard, behave alarmingly well in a situation, wag his entire butt when we get home… and instantly our hearts melt like butter and all that other stuff goes out the window. The fact that he is a neurotic piece of work makes him all the more endearing. Maybe just to us, but still. :)

He is crazy and has issues but we really love him and couldn’t imagine life without him. Motzzi is the best mistake we ever made!

And now I’m wondering if my mom could substitute “she” for “he” and “Emily” for “Motzzi” and repeat everything verbatum. Yikes.

All I wanted was a temperature gauge for the grill.

Mike’s brother came over and brought steaks and said “wheres your thermometer? I need to know when the grill gets hot enough.” After laughing at him for thinking this was Bobby Flay’s house I said just let it warm up man, it will be fine. 10 minutes later he checks on it, and comes screaming back in the house because flames are licking the top of the grill and coming out around the side and Rob’s gasping “IS THIS NORMAL?!” We check on it and sure enough, the grill is not normal. 2 foot flames are fueled by pent up grease and I’m like “Hey Rob! Get your steaks, I think its warm enough!”

Anyway, fast forward into the week and I’m using any excuse to get back into the homeowners paradise called Bed Bath and Beyond, and that thermometer sounds like a good enough reason to go. I figure in case we attempt steaks on our own, I don’t want Mad Cow disease or anything. So Mike and I enter BB&B and as we are holding hands and skipping throughout the place with glee… all of a sudden, BAM! My world was knocked UPSIDE DOWN by this automatic soap dispenser sensor thing. um WHAT! Excuse me, I NEED THIS! I looked at Mike, and without even speaking he knew. I tried not to want it. I really tried hard to rip my eyes away from it. I tried to act like I could live in a world without it. We even looked at other normal soap dispensers for a moment but all I felt was emptiness inside. I imagined my hand under the sensor! I imagined how efficient, and magnificent it would be! Cleanliness, with great ease!

It had to be done. I snagged a recipe box, 2 frosty mugs, the soap dispenser from 2030 and walked away extremely happy.

Wait… oops. Forgot the thermometer. Aw shoot. Guess I’ll have to go back!!! ;)

Ok. I’m done messing around with my 3-5 wine bottles and the constantly half-filled rack. I am trying to figure out how in the world I can accomplish this wine cellar pictured above. HOW AWESOME IS THIS?! How long do you think the battle with HOA would be? Or technically, could they say anything since its not outside the house? I need to re-visit the CC&R’s on this one. Either way, this is a goal I am adding to The List. Please don’t be worried when you hear the sounds of demolition reverberating from my house. Wine party when I’m done! :)