crazy sandwich book

On Saturday I happened across a book sale at the main branch of the public library. The library is a gorgeous building designed by Cesar Pelli. An architectural triumph. Occasionally, when I'm hating on Minneapolis, it is the only building downtown that makes the city worth living in. The book sale was an event I had heard spoken of. I found three gems. Grand total 73 cents. I bought one book with the intention of ripping the pages out to adorn our kitchen wall. But after reading it through several times on the bus ride home, I could hardly bring myself to do it. It helped that I only spent 39 cents on it. Now the kitchen wall boasts little known culinary facts from a children's book published in 1975 called Sandwichery.



The book also includes recipes for sandwiches. Try the cottage cheese sandwich with radishes and cucumbers or the peanut butter, carrots and banana sandwich. And, as if politically incorrect illustrations and hodge-podge recipes weren't enough...sandwich jokes to boot.

Q- Why can't you trust a sandwich?

A- Because it's full of baloney.

Don't try to get all philosophical about it. I am not a sandwich.

weltanschauung

$4.00 means very little to me in a literal sense. But on a higher level- it means everything in the world to me. $10.00 a gallon would mean more. What bothers me most about paying $4 for a gallon of gas is that we haven't been doing it for 5 years already. I wish we had.

bad groceries

Yesterday I went to buy a can of sweet corn and did a doubletake. I realized I was holding a can of cream-style corn instead of the kernels. I would like to say this is the first time I mistakenly grabbed creamed corn. The truth is, 1 out of 10 cans of corn I buy is accidentally cream-style. These mistakes add up. Hence, the list I am starting today of all the groceries that people accidentally buy. I would be willing to wager that some of these accidents are foods that there is no market for whatsoever. It only appears that there is a market because people mistakenly buy them so often. I guess what I am saying is that dumb people shouldn't be included in market research.

things people only buy accidentally:

cream-style corn
refried black beans
Ry-Krisp NY deli-style crackers
granola with raisins
salt free cottage cheese
I Can't Believe It's Not Butter
papaya
ground pork sausage
almond filling
spice drops
non-waterproof mascara
grapes with seeds in them
unfilled long johns
sweet pickles
cherimoyas

If we didn't live in a democracy, I'd say pull the plug on them all. Which brings me to a more strident point. Does democracy allow for too much junk in the marketplace? With the state of the world being as dire as it is, couldn't we just declare the next generation of Bratz doll a low national priority? Chalk one up for socialism.

June 6, historically

A day rich in significance. D-Day. The death of Robert F. Kennedy. My birthday. This used to be a day on which I looked forward to a slumber party, or a trip to Chuck-ee Cheese (formerly ShowBiz pizza), or, at the very least, taking a treat to school. This year I could only think to myself, 'a lot of really depressing stuff happens on this day.' It hasn't always been that way.

top six birthday moments:

-mom's yellow cupcakes cut in half with a brownie in the center to look like hamburgers with yellow and red frosting as condiments

-the year my slumber party got busted for making prank calls and, later, when my friends were long gone, for the forgotten undies in the freezer

-Jon's gift of a pink Kitchen-Aid mixer, unofficially the world's most well-traveled mixer

-the year that my crush on Nicholas Cage coincided with Con-Air's June 6th release date

-realizing that my mom's decision to make krispie bars with generic crisped rice was undetected by my fellow students (until the unveiling in the classroom, I thought she had used rice chex and was completely prepared to be shunned by my entire third-grade class for bringing retarded rice krispie treats)

-warm biscuits with Jamie and Jon at the Clinton Street Bakery and Restaurant (see recipe below), followed by Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, which Jon now uses as proof of my birthday being a sentence that he bears annually. Fair enough.

This year I technically had two pre-birthday celebrations. I also opened every present and card as they arrived. I welcomed these occasions in the hope that I would not feel sorry for myself come lunch hour at the job on my birthday. It didn't work. On Tuesday, Jon and I went to a pre-birthday Twins Game in the company of our friends, Gretchen and Jeff. Jon insisted I share an action shot from the evening.


For those on whom the action is lost- that would be an airborne peanut.


* Clinton Street Baking Company biscuits I only just uncovered this recipe as I reminisced. Note that 8 cups of flour somehow converts to 'about a dozen' biscuits. Fair warning- these biscuits will be as big as your head and they will not be nearly as good as the biscuits at Clinton Street Baking Company. Biscuits are 99% execution, which is exactly why biscuit gurus don't mind giving out their recipe.

extreme weather

Spring has been short and extreme this year. The whole of it has existed in one of two states: something falling from the sky or something brewing. Exciting. Especially for the pedestrians among us. We walk around in a constant state of acceptance towards wet pantlegs.


Sno-cone party!! Bring Your Own Fixin's and Adhesive Plastic Strips. Pretty awesome. Just ask my shirtless neighbor who rollerbladed home from the lake in it and my mo-pedding neighbors screaming down the street at 15 miles per hour. (15mph + hail @ 15mph = 30 mph ice pellets the size of marbles to face) I watched the whole thing glued to the window, laughing out of nervousness- not cruelty. This season brings to mind a favorite quote. I only favor it because it reminds me of Marsja.

Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Cheesy, I know. I think I've seen it on a quilted greeting card. Probably in a gas station, which is the only place I ever feel compelled to buy cards. My goal is to one day read it aloud without sarcasm. My mom is a big advocate of the quote. But she says it differently- quit your bitching.

Extreme weather at home, too. Mom and Dad showed me the damage from a recent lightning strike to a tree along their horse trails. Frightening and marvelous.

politics

It is good to see our country euphoric over politics. It has not happened in my lifetime. I have only experienced political euphoria via video footage of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy. I have hope that our generation will be remembered for something more than letting a lot of shit happen that we didn't really agree with.

born again hats

remember this tapestry? Well, I said I saved it to make a hat out of. Shortly after, I washed it in my parents' washing machine and their washer effectively shredded it. Sometimes their washer does that. It also reduced a pair of my dad's jeans to fringe. This is one of the lesser risks inherent in visiting my parents. My hatsmanship, already limited in its own right, was further limited to the shreds of the tapestry. Last week I was finally inspired to make good on my promise. Which is to say- keep it. The end result was a disappointment. The hat appeared to be flawless until the final stages. Then, as is most often the case with my novice sewing projects, the truth became apparent. The lumpy misaligned truth. I stuck it on my gumball machine for the picture because my head made its flaws all too evident. The style is supposed to be a cloche, not a gumball cozy.


While I was at it, I made another hat. Out of upholstery I cut off a random discarded chair with a utility knife. I know. I also think it sounds like a bad idea. Cat piss, cheetos crumbs, hairs of all pedigree, etc. I thought of all those things. But it really wasn't like that. The upholstery was striking. It is true that the cushion and arms were worn to nothing but the back side of the chair was practically untouched. I snuck outside with my utility knife and harvested as much as I could before the garbage man showed up. It was over a year ago that I acquired the fabric and did the requisite triple wash of it. The cloth lost so much dye that I thought my sink would be red forever. Which lends itself to an appropriate biblical metaphor. Washed all the sins right out of it...I hope. Here's my born again newsboy. Fully lined, just in case.



I used Eugenia Kim's book for all of my patterns. I highly recommend it.