Guacamole For Dummies

 

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This morning before I got out of bed I solemnly promised myself that I would answer the WordPress Daily Post prompt, no matter what it might be or how much I didn’t feel like it.  Unfortunately for whoever might be reading this, here it is.

(Your Thing) For Dummies:  Take a complicated subject you know more about than most people, and explain it to a friend who knows nothing about it at all.

So would you really like to hear all about fitting eyeglasses and contact lenses, doing follow-up adjustments and appointments and assessments?  I didn’t think so.  All you need to know about all of that stuff, really, is to take your problems to a professional.  Don’t do your own adjustments.  Don’t put your glasses in a microwave, a dog’s mouth, or under a moving truck.  When your contact lenses are uncomfortable, get them the hell out of your eyes.  If your glasses don’t sit all perfectly balanced on a flat surface, but look okay on your face, ask yourself if your head is a flat surface.  Then just get on with your day.

My second thought was to explain my artistic process, but the big thing there seems to be how I’m very good at ruining a lot of clothes and desk tops and floors with paint and glue.  And you probably know better than I do how to avoid all of these things already.  If you don’t, I’m sorry, I can’t help you.

Guacamole, on the other hand, is something I can talk about and I guarantee you will learn a couple of new things, even if you think you already know absolutely everything there is to know on the subject.  I’m still in the learning stages myself, but I know there is perfect guacamole out there somewhere, just waiting for me to discover it.

Here are the secrets I have uncovered so far.

1.  Three cloves of garlic for three avocados is probably too much garlic.  Just because you peeled that many does not mean you should use all of them at once.  Your first clue would be how your fridge smells after placing the guacamole inside it in a sealed container, and still being knocked over backwards by the overpowering garlic odor whenever you open the fridge door.

2.  When they say roma tomatoes, they mean tomatoes that aren’t excessively juicy.  Ordinary tomatoes will work if you scoop out all the juicy insides and pat what’s left dry on a paper towel before chopping them up.

3.  The fact that you seem to remember the recipe calling for the juice of half a lime may annoy you.  Or maybe that’s just me.  Anyway, it always seems like such a waste to squeeze out the juice and throw the rest away.  And then there’s that other half of the lime which slowly shrivels up and dies before you can think of something else to do with it.  I’m talking about big limes.  If the lime is tiny, go ahead and juice the whole thing.  However, if you are ever inclined to just throw the entire gigantic peeled lime into your food processor with the chopped onions and garlic, AVOID THE TEMPTATION.  Yes, I am yelling at you.  This is not a good idea unless you want your guacamole to taste like really bad after shave.

4.  If you ignored my warning and did use the entire lime, throwing a bit of sweetener in after the fact to cut the bitterness of the lime will make your guacamole edible.  That’s it.  Delicious is just not going to happen.

5.  If all else fails (and in my case this is always a possibility) print a recipe off the internet and FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS.  Now I’m just yelling at myself.

I sincerely hope this has been helpful advice for the guacamole impaired.  Anything else you need to know, just ask.  Or Wikipedia is also helpful.  I’m not pretending to know everything.  Or anything really.  So, yeah.  You may now get on with your day.

All I Need Is The Air That I Breathe

English: Tilia sp. buds opening in spring.

English: Tilia sp. buds opening in spring. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Suddenly, almost over night,  the leaves are appearing everywhere here.  It feels like I’ve been waiting forever to see them this year.  All that delicious green is exhilarating, almost breathtaking,

Would I know this if they were here year round?  Probably not.  This morning I looked out the kitchen window and this phrase popped into my head –  peace came upon me.  My brain has little storage areas for random song lyrics that zing themselves into my consciousness without warning.

This beautiful and timeless song was a big hit for the Hollies in 1974.  Alfalfa sings it to Darla in The Little Rascals movie.  It’s been covered by Phil Everly, Olivia Newton John, Julio Iglesias, Judi Collins and many others, including the Brazilian country group “Chitãozinho & Xororó” with Portuguese lyrics under the title “É Assim Que Eu Te Amo” (translated as “This is how I love you”).  That last bit is straight from Wikipedia, not some random trivia I had floating about in my head.  Yes, I’m relieved to hear that too.

Take a deep breath, have a listen. Realize you already have everything you need to be happy.  And then get yourself out there and have a fun green day.

If I could make a wish
I think I’d pass
Can’t think of anything I need
No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound
Nothing to eat, no books to read

Making love with you
Has left me peaceful, warm and tired
What more could I ask
There’s nothing left to be desired
Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak
So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe
And to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe
Yes to love you
All I need is the air that I breathe

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak
So sleep, silent angel, go to sleep

Adventures in Album Cover Creation

as much as i can stand

Hey, wanna buy an album cover? Yeah, just the cover. There’s nothing inside. When I come up with a band and some songs I’ll let you know.

This great idea comes from Edward Hotspur with step by step instructions on how to create just such a thing.  You’ll have to go there to find out how I did this, because I’m way too lazy to repeat it all.  Obviously he is good at doing this and explaining things, because even I got it.

So give it a try!  It’s fun!  Maybe there’s a market for this!  Maybe not!  Whew.  Enough excitement for one morning.

Ophiuchus? Really?

Yesterday was my birthday, the 13th of May.  I had a brief panic attack, which surprisingly enough had nothing to do with my age.  It’s all this nonsense about a thirteenth sign of the Zodiac. And a perfect example of a little knowledge being a dangerours thing.  And jumping to conclusions being stupid.  And stuff like that.

Turns out it’s a technically inaccurate description of Ophiuchus when it’s being called a ‘sign’ of the zodiac, although the public misconception dates back to the 1970’s  and a misunderstanding about the differences between the Tropical and Sidereal Zodiacs, and the Parazodiacal Constellations.  Which, when you think about it, is not that hard to imagine happening with all this astronomical gobbledegook being thrown about as if we’re all supposed to understand what the hell they’re going on about.  I blame it entirely on the stars and the planets which don’t seem to remember from year to year how to keep themselves properly aligned.  According to Wikipedia “the irregular astronomical demarcation of visible constellations does not relate to the separate frame of reference provided by the equally spaced twelve-fold longitude division of the ecliptic into zodiacal signs.”  So we all need to calm down.

My alarm was caused by suddenly noticing a discrepancy in the dates.  By the Tropical (Western) Zodiac I’m still a Taurus, but by the Sidereal (Eastern or Hindu) Zodiac and the Constellation calculations I’m Aries.  Inconceivable.  No offense to Aries people, but seriously, I am nothing like you.  Even on the cusp, I do not share your traits.

Adventurous.  Not even remotely.  If you ever ask me “Where’s your sense of adventure?”  your question will be met with a blank stare.

Ambitious.  Huh.  Not really.  I strive not so much for success as for creature comforts.  I am ambitiously involved in the pursit of laziness and inertia.  With a less than normal  level of enthusiasm.

Impulsive.  Rarely.  Everything I do requires thought and planning.  Sometimes to the point where nothing much at all gets accomplished because the thought and planning hasn’t yet ended.  Maybe it never will.

Impatient.  Never.  I am the most patient person on the face of the earth.  I can wait you out no matter what.  Let’s just wait and see what happens is always the relentless phrase in the back of my head.

Self-reliant.  Well sort of, I suppose.  But I’d never refuse help.  And if you want to do whatever it is on your own for my benefit, that’s certainly fine with me.

Undiplomatic.  Quite the opposite, actually.  I will do just about anything to avoid conflict. I will knock myself out to see the other person’s point of view.

Then there are the Taurean traits which (in some cases unfortunately) describe me a whole lot better.

Stubborn.  Sigh.  Yes.  Just because I’m diplomatically seeing your point of view and smiling and nodding like I get it, doesn’t mean I’ll ever change my mind about anything.  Because I’m always right.  Just ask W.  And if he says no, he’s obviously lying.

Dependable.  Yes, I am reliable and responsible to the point of boring everyone to tears.

Persistent.  Yep,  In an elephant never forgets sort of way. In for the long haul.  Stick in the mud forever without end.

Materialistic and Possessive.  I admit it’s true.  I do like lots of things. I like lots of things to be mine.  I prefer that you do not borrow my things.  In fact don’t even touch them.

Affectionate.  Of course. It almost goes without saying.  Doesn’t all of the above make it sound like I’m just bursting with love and kindness and benevolence and magnanimity?  Well, I can be sentimental and emotional.  It’s the same thing, isn’t it?

What it all boils down to is the fact that I am not adventurous or impulsive enough to embrace a different zodiac with altered dates after all these years of stubbornly and persistently believing myself to be a Taurus through and through.  If I ever move to India perhaps I will have to accept the Sidereal one which tells me I’m Aries, but since that’s not ever going to happen in this lifetime, I’ll just carry on and wait for the next one and then see what happens.

And if you think you might be an Ophiuchus (November 29th to December 17th) chances are you’re still a Scorpio or a Sagittarius here in the real world and some hot shot astrological buff is just pulling your chain.

Extreme Bocce

Until this very morning I was completely unaware that I had already learned an extreme sport. It didn’t cost me a thing. Well, except maybe for some dignity, but that’s minor.

Wikipedia has lots of brilliant information on extreme sports – the kinds of asinine activities that involve high levels of danger; speed, height, physical exertion, wild stunts, uncontrolled variables (rocks, ice, waves, weather, terrain), and of course the huge adrenaline rush one gets because of the very real possibility of injury and even death.

I am not a big fan of any of those things. But I was rather intrigued to discover links to such things as ‘extreme ironing’ and ‘extreme croquet’. It seems that it is possible to make almost any activity “extreme” by doing it in some bizarre location and throwing out all the rules.

Been there and done that! We have a Bocce ball game at our summer cottage and no lovely flat regulation court on which to play it. So I really do believe our version of it could be classified as extreme. The dangerous terrain consists of rolling hills and rocks of all sizes and many many trees. Add a lot of bugs to that, depending on the time of day. Mix in some unpredictable small children, slippery moss, low hanging branches, the possibility of encountering wood tics, and smoke from the fire which could choke and blind you if the wind direction is right, and I think we have a SPORT going on here, and not just some wimpy game.

Before you dismiss this activity as highly unlikely to involve injury or death, consider the amount of alcohol that it is possible to consume during one of these events. I’ve never been hit in the head with a bocce ball, but the possibility of such a thing happening is definitely plausible. And who knows what perils could befall the idiot stumbling back to the house in the dark to get more ice. There are no doubt many more hidden hazards that I can’t even wrap my head around right now. Perhaps if the sport had some kind of rules about sobriety I could pay closer attention to all its lurking pitfalls.

So what the hell do we need sky diving for? Come on. Live dangerously. Break out those bocce balls and yes, if you dare, bring it on!

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