Are you happy now? See, you got your haiku for the week.
I met with an employment agent this week. They are dusting off and shining up my resume for me. Prospects are promising. I will keep you updated. I’ve cooked dinner the last 2 days without injury. Possibly a new record. Moving right along with school this session.
Why yes, it was delicious, fairly nutritious, and easy. Calories? Yes, I’m certain it had them.
If you’ve been lurking around my corner of the internet, you should know by know that I don’t really do the recipe thing. I make it up as I go and generally bleed, or blister, or otherwise injure myself in the process of making the food. This one is certified injury-free, but was not without issue.
Anyway, so here’s what I did. While heating some red palm oil in a pan, I minced an entire bulb of garlic. Yes, I said bulb. You people who can just add a single clove confuse me. I then threw that into the pan with a little soy sauce and some Carolina Reaper paste. I let that simmer down until the garlic was mushy and the air made you blink and added 5 chicken breasts. These were pre-seasoned with herbs-n-stuff, but you can add whatever you like. We’re still on the low setting on the gas stove. I put the lid on and let those simmer.
While the chicken was simmering, I chopped up some red and green cabbage (a quarterish of a head each), one carrot, and some daikon radish (about the same volume as the carrot) and put them all into a bowl with some sea salt to extract some of the liquid.
Flip the chicken, shake the veggies around to make sure everything gets salted.
Once the chicken was mostly done, I used the edge of the spatula to cut it into bite sized pieces and then stir it all around to make sure all the surfaces are covered with the juices from the pan.
While the chicken continued to simmer, I made sauce. That is approximately 2 tablespoons cornstarch, 2 tablespoons soy sauce, and 2 tablespoons lime juice. Stir it until homogeneous and dump over veggies. Cover the bowl and shake, shake, shake senora. Shake the veggies Lime! Work, work, work, senora. Work it all the time.
You hate me now, don’t you?
Discover that the little screw that holds the handle on the lid has backed out into the chicken. Lid is also very hot. Find oven mitts and remove lid and screw. Dump in veggies and stir. Fix lid with butter knife. I suppose you could use the screwdriver that you’ve got in the junk drawer in the kitchen, but what fun is that? Replace lid. Let simmer for 15-20 minutes and cut the heat. Let sit for another 10ish minutes and serve. Veggies should still be crunchy. If you prefer mushy veggies, simmer until desired texture is achieved.
There you go, low-carb and could easily be gluten-free provided you used gluten-free soy sauce which I did not. The pepper paste could be omitted entirely if you didn’t want the spice.
Yes, I know I missed last week. Haiku Friday is a new feature and sometimes life throws curve balls. The line for refunds forms to the right. Have your receipts handy.
Thirteen years in sixteen boxes. I don’t know yet what the next adventure will be, but I really do believe it’ll be even better than the last. One must have endings in order to have new beginnings and all of that. I’ve no intention of being knocked down.
Meanwhile, maybe I’ll get to spend a little more time tending my little corner of the internet. I make no promises. Hopefully, I’ll have time to take more pictures. I’ve got a little wiggle room to really figure out which path to choose, or more likely do the very Jennifer thing and blaze my own once I’ve got an idea of where I’m going. I’m glad you’re along for the ride, but I do recommend you buckle up and perhaps consider wearing a helmet. And you probably shouldn’t eat the ornamental peppers.
Yeah, kinda sorta almost commentary on current events and no, this one isn’t from my backlog of random haiku. I have a feeling it’ll be applicable again.
Yes, facts are static things, but even if a person’s recollection does not match up with actual events, they may not be lying. Memories can be unreliable. In the end, these are real people who must look at themselves in the mirror each day and deal with their own demons at night.
The media circus chews people up and spits them out for public consumption, treating their audience like baby birds waiting for what is regurgitated. Personally, I have more respect for my readers and believe you can spread your wings and find more sources to consume.
We all forget sometimes. I know I’m guilty of being my own worst enemy, and I bet you are too. Once in while, maybe try to be your own cheerleader. You’re over there saving the world one little bit at a time while your horn sits gathering dust.
We’re Joe and we’re working in the button factory. Boss keeps asking if we’re busy, and we just keep saying no. Pushing the button with your head yet? Did you mention that maybe you’re running low on extremities? Might be time to squeak a little, just saying.
For what exactly, I don’t know. Maybe you’ll just get random Haiku Fridays. I do have a collection of mostly terrible haikus (Spellcheck hates that. It’s making with the red squiggly.) written to entertain a former manager and mostly myself. Penelope Trunk says poetry will help your career. My sample set seems to disagree. What is the plural of haiku anyway? Apparently, it’s haiku and I was really wanting that question to be in haiku form.
Anyway, I make no promises. This free ice ice cream machine isn’t the current model, and I can’t afford the new one so we’re just going to have to deal with some quirks and glitches while I try and get this mess up and running again. Please pardon the mess.
It’s been 17 years now, and like many of you, the memories are still sharp enough to hurt. So many words have already been said and written, shouted and sung, whispered and wept. Some by me and many more by others. What more can be said?
Most of the children born that day are now finishing high school, the anger, confusion, and betrayal of the day does haunt them. It’s something they’ve learned from others but didn’t experience themselves. My own child was 2 years old at the time. As far as he remembers, he’s always lived in a country with a Patriot Act and is waging a war on terror. He doesn’t remember how desperate his mom was to run away from the office and wrap him on her arms. He probably doesn’t even remember that there were tears.
I was all of 22, almost 23 years old. It brought reminders of a chilly day in Oklahoma 6 years prior. In the coming days, my heart would again swell with pride for my fellow citizens that rose up and took care of each other because that’s just what communities do. Yet the empty skies above served as a grim reminder of what had transpired.
And here we stand, 17 years later. Bruised but not beaten by those that wish even to this day to destroy us. Lord willing, we’ll stand against them for many more years to come.
It’s been a while so I figured I may as well drop a little content here. I posted it a few days ago on Facebook, but I think it deserves a place here because, well, it just does.
She put on her finest outfit. The one that always drew his attention. Patiently, she waited. Seeing him across the way, she began her dance.
He knew she would be there and dashed as fast as he could, throwing caution to the wind. Tonight would be the night. There she was, beautiful. He watched her move. He’d waited his whole life for this moment.
He was right there. Surely he could see her. Slowly, carefully she danced in his direction, but he came no closer.
He was ensnared. He tried to signal her but he was unable to approach. He’d been caught by something and couldn’t escape but he had to let her know how he felt. Desperately, he signaled while being wound ever more tightly.
Drawing closer, she began to realize something was terribly wrong. He was singing their song, but he’d stopped moving. She must have gotten to him. Hope dimmed and slowed.
He flashed his last as the femme fatale had her way with him.
Thus ends the front yard firefly romance foiled by an orb weaver.