Natural Disasters

So, when you think about it, there are a lot of natural disasters.

Hurricanes, blizzards, tsunamis.
Volcanos, earthquakes.
Plague, drought, famine.

Before I lived in Texas, I never thought much about wildfires. I heard about them on the news, and it never mattered much to me.
But now that there are multiple fires surrounding Austin, it's some pretty scary stuff.
Ok, all natural disasters are pretty scary stuff, but the idea of driving into something like this...

It freaks a girl out a little bit.

And I think having pets makes it even more scary. While out last night, my friend and I agreed, we wouldn't care if our entire house burned down as long as our dog got out safely.

And we also agreed, if some one tried to evacuate our neighborhood, and told us we weren't allowed back to our home to get our dog out, we would probably break the law and jump some fences.

The thing is with wildfires, and I think the reason why I (and probably others) don't pay them much attention is because people rarely die. Neighborhoods are evacuated, people stay safe... it's not like hurricanes where people are told to evacuate and "wait it out," you can't wait out a fire. 

So I guess my point is, though wildfires don't get as much media attention, and people don't lose their lives, they should still be given consideration and as much attention as other natural disasters. People still lose their homes, cars, possessions. Just a thought.

Ella and Chocolate

Back in December, our dear dog Ella ate almost an entire bar of dark chocolate.

Meet Ella.

In case you didn't know, dark chocolate is pretty much poison to dogs. The darker the chocolate, the more poisonous to the dog.

Ella is only about 45 lbs so her eating dark chocolate is more dangerous because it's more likely to kill her than if she was a 100lb dog.

Anyways, so she eats the chocolate. At first she's fine, it was late at night, we go to bed, thinking that she might be a little sick the next day.

Around 3am, we hear this yelp. This poor cry for help. Ella had never made this noise before, it was so tragic and sad. Since Nev sleeps like a rock, I immediately got up to check on poor Ella.

Needless to say, she wasn't doing well. Not only could she not control, her um, bowel movements, the caffeine from the chocolate had made her SO hyper she couldn't sit still. Her muscles were twitching. She was running around the apartment in this mad craze, like some one who had taken drugs and was having a really bad trip.

Anyways, Nev wakes up, we call the vet, decide to wait it out and needless to say, Ella didn't die.

Now, months later, everything is fine.
OR SO WE THOUGHT.

A few weeks ago, Nev and I sleep in really late, till about noon. The chocolate incident is far behind is, pretty much forgotten. Then, we hear a yelp.
The same poor, sad cry we heard in December.

Nev immediately gets up, and decides that we just stayed in bed too long, and takes Ella out.
A few weeks later, again past noon, same thing happens.

Slowly but surely, Ella begins yelping earlier and earlier in the morning.
Then, yesterday, she does it at 9am. We were up until 2:30am. And we took her out. We realize that our dog has been CONNING us, like the little sneak she is.

So we leave her in her gated area, but she doesn't stop. Nev finally has had enough, and takes action.

And how do you stop a dog from yelping like you're starving her to death?
You kick her.

KIDDING. We do not beat our dog.
This is what I hear:

"Now, Ella, stop it. Stop it right now. Stop. We are not letting you out."

Yes, let's talk to the dog like she understands us.
Of course, after Nev leaves her, she does it again.
Our neighbors probably think we're horrible pet owners.

And he goes to Ella, again, and tells her in a calm, patient voice, "Stop. Stop crying. You need to stop this right now."

Anyways, eventually we get up and let her out and she runs around the apartment. I'm sure if she could talk she would say something like "I'M FREEEEEE! FREEEEEEEEE!"

And yes, this morning she did it again. Around 9am. Sigh.

So the main point you should get from this story is, do not let your dog eat chocolate. Not only because it might kill her, but then she ends up conning you and you will never be allowed to sleep in again.

Spaghetti

Have you ever made pasta? You know what, it's hard. It ain't easy. So below you will find instructions on how to make spaghetti. FROM SCRATCH. No boxes here kids.

How to Make Spaghetti (with pictures!)


First, make sure you kitchen space is clean.

As you can see... my space was not very clean.

Ok, to be honest, I didn't even clean it. I just stacked everything in the sink. But you SHOULD, ok? 

Next, pour some oil in a sauce pan, and heat it up. You want the oil to be hot before you add the onions and garlic. Why? Because you want them to sizzle. That's why.

You want to throw the onions and garlic and let them sweat. You know, until they look translucent-y. I used half an onion and three cloves of garlic. 

Once your onions and garlic are smelling fabulous, add some burger meat. I used about 2 lbs. I also used leftover hamburger meat we had leftover, so it already had onion and spices in it (which is why I only cooked half an onion... I would usually use a whole one). 

Mix that wonderful stuff around for a while until it's cooked. Whoa this is hard stuff, are you keeping up? 

Good, good. 

Then you get to add whatever you want. It's like a bolognese party. 

Welcome to my meat sauce party. 

(1/2 cup red wine, basil, tablespoon oregano, three bay leaves, handful of mushrooms, can of tomato paste, can of stewed tomatoes, red pepper flakes)

It's party time!

Speaking of party time, don't forget, wine is not just for cooking. This is an adventure! Drinking and cooking simultaneously is a great idea!

My mom is proud.

Sometimes, when making sauce in such an unorganized matter, you realize that your sauce doesn't look tomato-y enough. It's a great meat sauce party and all... but it could be better. Imagine a party that didn't have enough beer, it just needs more.

So I like my sauce tomato-y. Hence the more tomato. Tomato = more beer at the meat sauce party.

I'll try and stop with the metaphors.

Anyways so then you're left with a delicious, tomato-y, slightly spicy sauce. 

Yum. 

And that just sits. And simmers in all it's greatness.

Then we get to the pasta.

And now you're asking yourself, "Why Jessica, would you make fresh pasta instead of using the box kind? It only cost $0.99 a box at HEB?"

Because it's better that's why. You think Italians buy boxed pasta? NO! 

Am I Italian? No. But. I would like to cook like one.

There are only three ingredients in your basic pasta recipe: Flour. Eggs. Tiny pinch of salt.

Apparently, it's better to use unbleached flour. Or bleached flour. Or all purpose. Or whole wheat. Whatever. Everyone has a different opinion on what kind of flour to use. Just don't use bread flour, because, it's pasta. Not bread. Duh. 

I used half wheat flour, half all-purpose.  One cup of each. And you build a fort with it. 

Ok so it's hard to get a picture of a good flour fort. Put a pile of flour on your board, put your finger in the middle, and move it around like a circle. Whoooo flour fort! 

In the middle of the fort, add three eggs. 

If you then realize that your fort isn't big enough... stick your finger in the middle and make it bigger. And by bigger... I mean wider. Don't add more flour. 

Yet.

Then swish around the eggs slowly with a fork, slowly bringing the flour and eggs together in a happy marriage where the kid should be pasta dough.

This is what happens when you swish too hard with your fork. You must BE GENTLE. 

Never fear, not all is lost, if this happens to you, just remember that you are a CHAMPION! Pasta is easy! Add another egg and just mix it with your hands! Piece of cake! 

Or not. Maybe hands don't work so well. Maybe the dough is too sticky and we should just switch to boxed pasta. Homemade pasta is for the Italians...

Sike. Add some flour if it's sticky. Knead it. IT'LL WORK DO IT.

Trust me.

Congratulations. This is pasta dough. Separate it into three equally sized balls. Or you know, two medium sized one and a big one... whatever. 

Now, the thing to do... is check on your sauce. Stir it up some. Taste it, make sure it's amazing.

Then, let your dough rest, for 10, 15 minutes. 

This is a good time to clean up the egg that escaped the flour fort.

And to set up your pasta station. Pasta takes up a lot of space, so if you have a small kitchen (like me) I recommend doing it on your dining room table.

Ta-da! My pasta maker is an attachment on my kitchenaid, but you can obviously use normal ones too. You need to flatten the pasta, and then spaghetti-ify it.

I love making up words.

Flattener. Spaghetti-ifier. BAM.

After your dough is fully rested and your egg mess is cleaned up... put the pasta dough through the flattener. Do it a few times until it's thick/thin enough, looks smooth, you know, like something edible.

See? Nice flat sheets. 

Switch the attachments to the spaghetti one, and do it again. 

WE HAVE SPAGHETTI!

Ok. Now, this is the hardest part. Go to the stove... and boil some water.

Once it starts boiling, add the spaghetti.

It's fresh, so, it only takes maybe 3 -5 minutes to cook. 

If you doubt your pasta making abilities... you might want to also make some boxed pasta, JUST IN CASE. 

Or if you don't believe me about the fresh pasta and want to test it out for yourself in a homemade vs box pasta throwdown.

I assure you though, if you follow my brilliant directions, the spaghetti will be wonderful. 

Yaaay! Bread + salad + spaghetti = happy days.

I was going to make cannolis for dessert... but then I realized that homemade pasta was enough. Let's not get crazy.

Snack packs are definitely a good backup dessert though, if you need ideas.

Macaroni Grill

The first place I ever waited tables at was Macaroni Grill.

And I'll admit it, we stole a lot of stuff. And by "a lot of stuff," I mean wine. Everyone did. If you go into your local Mac Shack and ask your server if they have ever stolen a bottle of wine, they will probably tell you yes.

If you're thinking of working at Macaroni Grill, I would highly recommend it, because all your parties will be fully stocked with wine. And I'm not talking about small bottles, I'm talking about a 1.5 liter bottle here.

My mom is shaking her head in disappointment right now.

Last night, a few of us decided we wanted pasta for dinner, and we happened to be right next to a Macaroni Grill. My boyfriend has always had this huge admiration for their giant pepper grinders. They're almost two feet long, wooden, and well he likes to put pepper on EVERYTHING.

So we're at dinner, and he makes the comment that he needs find a place that sells them. It's really hard to find a good pepper grinder. Seriously. We have three.

I couldn't find our third, its just one of those generic spice ones where the top is the grinder.

(PS- did you know Macs don't come with Paint? I had to download it, sheesh.)

I think we all see where this is going.

Ladies and gentlemen, my domestic partner, is a thief. 

We get out to the car, and he immediately, LIKE A MAGICIAN, pulls out a giant pepper grinder from nowhere. I have no idea where he hid it and how he managed to get out of Macaroni Grill with it.

But... we do have a pretty sweet pepper grinder now.

The Breakfast Burrito vs Breakfast Taco Debate

It is time to finally settle one of the largest debates in history. One that I get into an argument with people consistently.
The breakfast burrito vs breakfast taco debate.
Is it a burrito? Is it a taco?

I didn't see the light and fully understand this until I moved to Austin and people would yell at me for wrongly calling this delicious breakfast treat a "burrito," but I now see the error of my ways and hope that you too, will start calling it by the correct name.

I am now going to explain to you, dear readers, why the correct term for a small tortilla filled with eggs/bacon/beans/whathaveyou is called a breakfast taco and NOT a breakfast burrito.

1. A burrito is large. When you go to Chipotle and order a burrito, it is a large tortilla. When you order tacos, you get a choice of crispy or soft, and they are small. Breakfast tacos are small. They are not giant things that you need to wrap your hands around to eat. And not all tacos are crispy! Jeez louise people.

2. Rice. Burritos have rice in them. Tacos do not. Do I need to explain this further?

This is a burrito.

This is a taco.

Therefor, these are breakfast tacos.

Case closed.

Blog 2.0

Yeah I had a blog once.
Back in the day, when it wasn't so cool. Really though, I was like 16 and it was a bunch of teenage whining.

THIS BLOG WILL NOT HAVE WHINING.

I feel like now that we are past the "livejournal" stage, whining should not be allowed on public websites.

The main reason I started this blog is because I have my degree in creative writing, and what have I done with it?!
Gotten a job in finance.

Sigh.

So this is really just my outlet to get some words out there, I'm not trying to be conceited, and I don't think anyone will read it. I just think my writing has fallen by the wayside, I used to be a really good writer!

COMMENCE BLOG POST #1 

So today a very odd thing happened. I walk outside my apartment, and low and behold, there is a fence on my car.
Yeah.
We have a fence that surrounds our dumpster, I'm not sure why, it doesn't keep anything out. Raccoons get in it, homeless people, and the occasional cat.
(I'm not lying about the homeless people thing either, one time I saw an almost naked, very large black man in my dumpster. He looked like the Old Spice Guy, sans horse body.)

Anyways, so I drive my boyfriend's Mercedes. He's kind of in love with it. The fact that he even lets me drive it is a small miracle in itself.
Anyways, so when I saw a fence on it, it wasn't a good feeling.

And then, I think, how did a fence even fall on my car?
It must've been raccoons.

This is the vision I get in my head.

(I think every blog should have images, but I can't draw.)

It was probably more than one. Maybe two or three evil, conniving raccoons. 

After some struggle, I move the stupid fence, almost scratch myself with the million nails that are sticking out, and realize that the car is all scratched up.

Damn raccoons. 

I get to work, galavanting around showing everyone what trauma I had to face this morning, and tell everyone that I think malicious raccoons did it.

And I go on thinking this the entire morning. 

Then I receive a lovely text from my boyfriend, and he goes "yeah, it was probably the trash truck, I bet it hit the fence."

Why didn't I think of this?

And then, the more I think about it, the more I realize that there is no way raccoons could've knocked over the fence. They're like, 10 lbs each. It would take an army of raccoons to knock that fence over. And even then, they would have to have some type of weapon or jetpack. 

The lesson here is obvious. Do not major in creative writing, and do not try and satisfy your writing urges by reading nonstop. You then think crazy things, like for instance, that two or three 10 lb raccoons could knock down a nailed in fence.