Hot Headed!!!

(you'll have to just use your imaginations for the sounds I sort of screeched after prancing and dancing my hot footed way back inside to the house after this photo. Patio HOTTTTTTTT, owie! Also, when the temperatures read THAT high the *F* no longer stands for Fahrenheit...)

I just love hot weather.
Yep, love it.
Me and skin blistering, face melting, hair wilting weather get along like two peas in a pod. Well.... more like two peas in a pot of boiling water, far far far removed from the sweet blissfully cool serenity of their little pod.
L.O.V.E. it.
*bares teeth in an un-holy grin*
Yep, love that hot weather..... love it just like an un-invited guest who shows up on your door step and makes themselves entirely too comfortable on your living room sofa, wiggling THEIR ass into your ass's indent on your side of the cushions and lets loose a long hot winded sigh of contentment that foretells of a long, long, lonnnnng visit.
From hell.
And you can't say anything, ohhh noooo you can't dare let it know it's uninvited, unwelcome and needs to get the heck off your back cause 96 degree F just aint cool with you.
In fact, screw all of those high pressure, low pressure easterly south west winds mumbo jumbo. I know all about hot weather, when it's so hot that walking through the living room is like easing my legs in to the oven on broil, I know where that weather comes from.
Hell.
Yep, it's the warm breath of Satan sweeping across his fiery pits and up through the cracks in the earth, whipping across the oceans, up the mountains, down the valleys, across the plains and finally through my living room window. Where it finally trickles in, a limp, stagnant breeze that promises summer's gonna be one hell of a cranky bitch.
Excuse the language, it's just that the crushing, mind numbing heat that presses me further and further in to my chair until finally I feel as if I've been strained through the very fabric of the seat and am even now looking up through a sweaty cross hatched net of what's most likely polyester causes me to lose a bit of my vocabulary.
Once in 11th grade English our teacher said that people who use swear words just didn't know any better words to use. Implying I guess a lack of creativity, schooling and manners. Like I really ought to be saying, "well gosh darn it, it's like a deep hideous vat of 3 week old, fast food joint, deep fryer fat, out and about today isn't it?" That might be polite-er...but in all honesty...it just feels like hell.
Don't worry though I'm taking advantage of the weather...working on a tan? Goodness no.
This isn't tanning weather, this is crisped-to-a-golden-crunchy-exterior-that's-heading-quickly-towards-charred weather. No tan for me, I'm taking advantage of the heat by making it work for me.
You hear that never ending beating rays of sun?
Do my bidding and I shall laugh from the relative discomfort of my sweaty office chair at your huge and mighty self being relegated to menial chores like making my tea. Why don't you brew my coffee while you're at it?
And ya know what? It does!!!!!
I sit here moaning about the weather and the heat and my chair and about being too lazy to look up alternative words for hell and the sun is out there, even as my heat addled fingers fumble across my keyboard, brewing my beverages.
*muahhh ahh ahhh ahhh*

(sun coffee on the left, sun yerba mate tea on the right)

And I shall call said beverages...sun tea.....and sun coffee. So that forever more all who partakes of my iced down beverages on this day and the next shall know who had to make it.
I mean it's like getting to say you're eating Queen Elizabeth toast. Wouldn't that just be the grandest to get up and have some lovely buttered toast made by the Queen????
Ohhhh man it's too hot for toast....can't.....think...about...toast.
I just can't think at all.
Later I will slink out on to the patio, bowing under the mighty weight of heat that wants to crush every bit will power outta me and I'll snatch my bottles of steeping tea and coffee, scramble back into the shade of the house and pray like mad I remembered to refill the ice tray the last time I stuck my head in the freezer for a 5 minute snooze, aka checking to see what to thaw for supper.
Supper? Who am I kidding?
That involves solid foods, and the only supper we're having tonight is an entree of iced sun tea followed by a dessert of iced sun coffee.

(Sure it looks pretty and inviting outside but trust me...it was hot as...well I'm sure you know by now....)

FREE Tutorial: How to turn....

STEP ONE: the first requirement for turning 30 is that you must be at least 29 before beginning this process.
If you are unsure of your age then please, let me help you determine if you are about to knock on 30's door and actually have it answered.

• Do you scowl at clusters of teenagers and wonder if giving the finger is illegal?
• Do you find yourself backpedaling at high rates of speed away from persons who are so heavily doused in scent they smell like they own stock in a perfume/cologne factory?
• Do you reach for well aged whiskeys and tequila over sugary candy colored schnapps and gag at the idea of neon green margaritas?
• Do you avoid going to the theater when it will be full of youngin's?
• Do you know what calories are and hate them with a passion born in the fiery depths of hell over their DAMNABLE existence?
• Do you feel like you know the answers to every body else's problems and have to bite your tongue in half to avoid speaking said answers aloud?
• Do you drink water?

If you answered yes to all of the above then you are probably about to hit 30 and can proceed with the rest of the tutorial.

STEP TWO: The second requirement for turning 30 is at least two kinds of homemade ice cream. Any less is unacceptable and any more isn't fair as I myself only made two.

(salted butter caramel ice cream from a recipe by genius David Lebovitz.)

STEP THREE: Turning 30 is a big deal, it's important that you let loose and go a little wild on this most important day.
Remember that in most countries what ever you do on your 30th birthday is considered legal no matter what it is.....huh?.......WAIT!
This just in, my conscience/legal adviser has asked me to add that actually all the same laws apply to a 30 year old as they do to a 29 year old..............umm......I may have some explaining to do to the kind people at the San Diego Wild Animal Park then. BUT in our own defense we make out a little in every elevator we get on...so.....it's not like we're amateurs here.

(face to face with a lion is a truly wild experience, sure there was an inch of glass between he and I but when he roared...my skin crawled in a deliciously scaredy cat way.)

STEP FOUR: This one is a little trickier, as you need to have at the VERY least 2 strong espresso type drinks on the day celebrating your birth. Preferably iced, with a tiny touch of sweetness and a drop of raw cream. They should be had at such times as to fully experience and enjoy the wonder that is fricking good coffee. It will be up to you to decide if that is in the morning, in the afternoon...one right after the other or spaced apart? There are a lot of variables and you should really start planning this special day weeks in advance so as not to find yourself chugging coffee at any moment just to get it down so you can move on to the next item on your birthday list.

STEP FIVE: The feast. Every 30 year old gets a feast on their birthday. It's a known fact. You may choose up to 86% of what your feast will be.

(My feast consisted of fast easy home fries that I will blog about in the future, homemade tartar sauce with horseradish and pickled jalapeños, beer battered cod, GIANT crab legs, mixed lettuce salad and every sauce and condiment I could carry. Please note these TV TRAYS are the bestest things for your dinner AND a movie turning thirty celebration.)

What ever you choose, it could be anything, just be sure it's the sort of meal that makes your husband say things like "Good God, the fridge looks niiiiice." when he's digging in it for ingredients to help cook your fabulous meal extravaganza.

STEP SIX: A good movie and good company.
You will need to rest your feet anyways after a long day of running wild. (see above step three).

(my good company, best husband in the world!!)

The movie should be sufficiently scary that you gasp in shock at least 5 times but not SO scary you are a quivering ball of fear whose hands shake so bad they are nothing but a blur of 30 year old fingers.

STEP SEVEN: This is not so much something that you do as it is something that will just happen. When you turn 30 you will be endowed with special powers. The sort that makes people look at you with shock, awe and respect. It may or may not involve levitating and mind reading, every one is different. If you start shooting lasers out of your eyes though I'd be interested to know as that's the one I wanted to get and I didn't.....aw well, luck of the draw I suppose.

Congratulations, if you have followed these steps carefully and with great reverence then you too are now 30 years old! Welcome fellow Thirty-arian!

A Recipe for Confessing....

Confession is good for the soul....
So they say, though I doubt it's as good for the soul as chocolate or coffee....or...(hang on to yer britches people) Coffee AND Chocolate...hummina hummina
So anyways believe it or not I wasn't a rebellious teenager. *gasp* are you shocked? Or perhaps not so much. The only two times I've been grounded in my life were for wearing mascara when I was 13 and for lighting a match in my bedroom. Ohhhhhhh what a rebel eh? Anyways my point being I didn't do any horrendous teenage acts of rebellion that had my parents chasing me round the country side, that involved authority figures (except for getting kicked out of school, one time for a fight I barely participated in) never went cow tipping, parking or soaped any windows. I never smoked, except when I was 4 and I took a drag off my father's girlfriend's cigarette and it was NASTY. I never stole (cookies, ice cream and chocolate and chocolate related paraphernalia do not count.) And the only deliberately malicious thing I ever did was start a rumor that 2 guys in my class who I detested in grade 9 were having a secret love affair with each other. That was pretty satisfying, though now I feel a little bad because what if they really were secretly gay and I destroyed them emotionally by starting the rumor, and also I don't think there's anything wrong with being gay so I've felt a little guilt over that one for a long time. Anyways the rumor didn't really take off but I felt satisfied that I'd done something to express in a creative way my dislike of these two, macho idiotic jerks. I can't remember why I thought they were jerks but I must have had a good reason. Like maybe they were breathing the same air as me, when you're a teenage girl in the 9th grade that's reason enough. Oh shoot, while I'm confessing I used to kick this one other guy in high school, I'm a tad passive aggressive I am now realizing. Him and his buddies all sat in a hall way and stuck their legs straight out as if they owned the place, as if they had the bloody right to be quietly rude to every one who walked by making them have to step over their legs. Funny thing is, I always *tripped* on his legs....*snicker* oh my how clumsy of me to always accidentally kick him. I quit doing that though when one day he *accidentally* raised his leg higher and *accidentally* tripped me as I was *accidentally* kicking him, wouldn't want an accident to happen would I? So I found a new hobby, er route through the school.
My point?
There is no point, I'm confessing, it's supposed to be good right?
I thought I'd start off with the heavy duty stuff like bruising some poor guy's legs every day at lunch time with my sneakered feet and end with stealing 97% of the delicious, mind blowing squares that were too damn good to share with people at the baby shower I brought them to.
It's my cousin's fault. (hee hee)
She lusted after those squares as much as I did, one little nudge in the direction of greed and gluttony was all it took. Actually I don't remember who suggested it. All I have is a faintly chocolate and coffee infused memory of arriving at a baby shower, hosted at my cousin's house.
People frown upon bringing tequila or twister to a baby shower where I come from so my Mom and I settled on a classic. Super, uber rich Arrowroot squares. (a family favorite recipe)
I had to hold that plate full of sinful goodness on my lap all the way to shower during the car ride...if I accidentally stuck my fingers under the plastic wrap and a bump in the road jostled my arm into hastily flinging a chunk of square into my greedy little mouth, can I be blamed? Hell no.
One taste was all it took to fill my dazzled mind with thoughts of sweet thick coffee frosting layered over chocolatey heaven. Do you really want to know how bad I had it? Do you reallllllllllly? I haven't a fricking clue who's baby shower it was I was going to, not a clue. I was all like "Baby? What Baby?"
I carried that plate of loveliness into my cousin's house with more care then I've ever held a kid, if some kindly relative smiled hello and asked "What ya got there dearie?" I growled, maybe drooled a little.
Thank goodness my cousin was there, she saved me from having to wrestle Auntie so-and-so or other cousin whats-her-face to the kitchen floor. My cousin in all her genius saw the potential of that plate of arrowroot squares to be OURS. And only ours, as arrowroot squares were so obviously meant to be.
With a little diversionary tactic that consisted of loudly saying "I'LL JUST PUT THIS PLATE OF SQUARES ON THE COUNTER OVER HERE!" Then we oh so cleverly slid off one or maybe two of the teensy tiniest squares from the whole batch onto another plate. See how clever that is????? All the relatives would each think the other relatives had gotten to the squares before them! Brilliant! While off we made with the loot, down to my cousin's bedroom, where we shut the door and proceeded to scarf down sickeningly vast amounts of Arrowroot squares. Hummina Hummmina Hummina. Oh man, if one of something is good then you KNOW a dozen of it is heaven.
The baby shower...it's a sugar induced high like blurry memory. I don't even remember going home, I remember when we shut the bedroom door and started in on that plate of stolen sweets and then....nothing.
Hmmm, I feel a sort of tickling sensation on my right foot....is that my soul? Feeling better after all this confessing?
It's not as satisfying a sensation as I expected...damn.
If you have the urge to make your own Arrowroot Squares let me tell you this.....if you can find a way to some how steal them from yourself or deprive others from enjoying them they'll taste ever the more sweeter. I'll have to ask my Mom where we even got the recipe. The original called for Arrowroot cookies to be crumbled up in the base but me dear Ma and I always used chocolate chip cookies. The name Arrowroot Squares has stuck for us though.

Arrowroot Squares


Lightly grease an 8"x8" pan and prepare your self mentally for a sweet mind altering experience.

In a bowl:
30 small crunchy chocolate chip cookies (or the cookie of your choice)
crumble these up leaving some dime size pieces and chunks. you don't want them too fine.

In a pot combine the following and cook on medium heat, constantly stirring for 8 minutes:
8 tbs. of white sugar
2 eggs well beaten
1 tsp of vanilla
4 tbs. of cocoa
1/3 cup of butter
1/2 tsp of salt

After 8 minutes dump the mixture over the broken cookies and stir up, then dump it in to the 8" pan and press down firmly.

Icing:
In a bowl combine:
1/3 cup of soft butter
1 1/2 cup of icing sugar
1 tsp of vanilla
1 tbs. of cocoa
Some super strong coffee


Mix this together and add the very strong coffee till you get the right frosting consistency. For the coffee I usually use a couple teaspoons of instant coffee in a bowl with a little bit of water, so its super dark strong. It doesn't take much of this strong coffee liquid to get the frosting smooth and creamy.
Then you frost the squares and enjoy. They get firmer when they cool, yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmers!

The only other thing I can add to this ramble down memory lane and recipe sharing is that it's seriously a damn yummy square and also I hate calories. (actually make that I F$#%ing hate calories)

I love COFFEE!

Coffee is almost as fantastic as ice cream...maybe even *gasp* dare I say it.... better?!? And if it IS better (and I'm not committing myself to saying for sure) it's only because for all that intense lovely flavor it's practically calorie free compared to ice cream. In fact after a quick net search I've confirmed my low calorie suspicions. Supposedly 1 fluid cup of black unsweetened coffee has only 9 calories...NINE! That's nothing...I'm sure I absorb more calories from sitting in this office chair then from a nice cup of black coffee. Now of course we don't drink our coffee unsweetened. We don't use sugar or sugar substitutes either but Stevia which has ZERO calories, is a natural thing and is 300 times sweeter then sugar... But I'm blabbing bout coffee NOT Stevia.
I've discovered I love coffee in all the many ways I can get it. My two favorites being iced or hot. Iced is a must have way for the summer. Just dump a bunch of ice cubes in the cup of hot coffee after it's been brewed and sweetened and YUMMMMMMMERS! We prefer super dark coffees, especially French Roast. I never knew there would come a day I could specify a preferred roast of coffee....and yet here I am a French Roast fan! I find the darker roasts make the best iced coffees. The iciness can sometimes dull the coffee flavor and dilute it a bit but if you start with an intense coffee like French Roast it'll be fine. Some times if we've made our version of Thai iced coffee (which is coffee brewed with black pepper, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom etc) we'll pour a tablespoon or so of half and half cream on the top after it's been iced. As seen in the picture above....not only is it a feast for the taste buds but one for the eyes as well! And tastes like.............Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmness!
We used to make coffee in an electric coffee pot which was great and all but after reading online about fellow coffee lusters using an Italian coffee pot that makes fantastic coffee, that's supposedly as close to espresso as you can get with out an actual espresso machine AND was for use on the stove we switched. This little coffee pot is so darling that I swear that's enough to make the coffee better then a standard electric pot. Tee hee.

But seriously it makes wonnnnnderful dark coffee. And since it's espresso type coffee the servings are petite BUT intense! The brand is Bialetti and I highly recommend this type of coffee pot to any fellow coffee lusters! It's actually our second Bialetti coffee pot. The first was made of aluminum but when we found out we could get the same kind in stainless steel we switched out. My aluminum coffee pot will make a lovely planter though!
So it should go without saying that a coffee lover like myself grinds her own beans right?
Not trying to sound all hoighty toighty here, it's just that freshly ground coffee beans do make a tastier cup of coffee. And even if it didn't it's dang fun to noisily grind them up in my little electric coffee grinder. And the smell........awwwwww it smells just like what you'd imagine a bunch of freshly pulverized coffee beans would smell like! The whole place immediately takes on that cool coffee shop smell.....MMmmmmm braingasms just thinking about it!