Good Morning Readers:
So I am at a place where anybody can get away with anything as long as they make a donation. For every question that I have, the answer is always, oh, they/he/she made a donation. Hmmm…the message that I am receiving is: with a donation you can pretty much do whatever you want, whenever you want. I guess its donation talks, bullshit ceases and deceases. Funny as I type this, my laptop shut down sending me on a frantic search for a power source. Perhaps if I made a donation, I would not have such a problem.
I’m sorry Readers, maybe this is too heady for the early morning, but how do I know you are even reading this in the early morning? Its just morning for me, 7:31. I just felt the need to mention this to you. This reminds me of when we were kids; we were enrolled in private school. Maybe I should call it Donation School. In Donation School there was a donation for everything. Shoot, did I say donation again, I mean to say tuition. Right. So we were taught to love everyone and everything except of course homosexuals, liars, killers (the ones who believed in abortion) fornicators, bad kids (the ones who didn’t honor their parents), and thieves, the list goes on and on. I don’t know how I managed to forget since the list of sinners was drilled into my head.
I remember my mother, being poor who by default made me poor, could not always afford the tuition. I don’t know if she couldn’t afford it or it was lost in the purchase of Newports, Bonton chips and Diet Pepsi. All I know is that our school breaks were longer than all the other kids, because read above, donation or in this case, tuition talked. Yes Readers, our private school would not allow us to attend if the tuition was past due. What did this mean for us? This meant every morning during our extended vacation we would dress in our uniform, grab our heavy backpacks and walk to our aunt’s home. You have no idea how heavy those Sinners and How to Condemn Them textbooks were. We spent our time there watching TV, eating Ramen, reading True Love and dozing on her always open sofa bed. At about 2, we would pick up our untouched backpacks and go home.
I don’t remember why we would not just stay home. My mother was an at home mom most of the time. I want to say that my mother didn’t want the neighbors to know that we were tuition strapped drop-outs but I think it was bigger than that. I have a feeling my grandmother and/or stepfather was helping to pay the tuition but somewhere between my mother and the school something went wrong. I don’t think my mother wanted to deal with their scrutiny or actually with my stepfather’s wrath. That is so another blog. Really, you don’t want any of that here…I’m talking burning bed ish.
I say all this to say…that I really can’t say anymore. I may have to save some of this for my private journal. I don’t mean to cheat you, Dear Readers, but I draw the line at insulting anyone’s theological beliefs. My problem, and I have one, is with the message that is sent. From an early age we all are taught about the value of money, but it’s not the good kind of values like truth, compassion and good food vs. fast food crap. The value that we are taught is that everything has a price and you pay it anyway you can even if it means sacrificing yourself to the wrath of an angry partner whose values are nothing of merit.
Oh boy, I think I need some Disneyesque butterflies. Really, I’m sorry. I would delete this all and start from scratch, but that to me, would be the equivalent of lying to you. You deserve my honesty. You could have also stopped reading paragraphs ago, but you are still here and I appreciate it. If you stayed this long you need something pretty to carry with you today which brings me to THE MOST AMAZING THING I COOKED THIS WEEKEND. Cue the game show music, Bob. Two weekends ago, my son Patterson and I went to the farmers market. Among other things, we bought some dusty beets. I have never cooked with fresh beets before and I don’t really buy the canned ones. I’m not a beeter. I’ve been hearing about how great they are for you and at only $2 a dusty bunch; I figured what did I have to lose. I also bought little green pumpkins which are important to this story, so don’t be forgetting. Heh-heh, it tickles me when I purposefully jack up my grammar. Now for the first time in Tuesdays With Lola, I present to you, a ……….blog’cipe!
Cut up some onions and garlic and brown in a little oil. While the onion and garlic is browning, get your beet on. LOL!! Deleave (behead, whatever) the beets and then peel them. Keep the leaves; you can use them another time. You will need a good veggie peeler; I don’t know what they do to the canned beets to make them so pliable, because those heifers are like dusty rocks in their natural state.
Slice the beets as thin as you can, this will help with the cooking. Do not be alarmed when you look like a straight up killer, beets are very, very “bloody”. You will feel like Johnny Depp in that dark movie about the barber. Take one bouillon cube or even a half because they are very salty and toss it in with the onions and garlic. Introduce the beets and mix about. The onions and garlic may not be too happy to see the beets, but in a second e’rybody in that pan is going to be beet red and thus all get along. Introduce 2½ cups of water, bring to a boil and get the party started. Once its boiling, top it and let it simmer. It’s going to need to simmer for a while, so let it be and go watch Tyra or better yet read a blog.
I did not go and read a blog, I pulled out the aforementioned pumpkins and gutted them with the now beet red knife. I made little pumpkin bowls and put them in the oven at I guess 350 for the duration of the beet boiling. I say I guess because my stove does not have knobs. I am that sweet a chef, I don’t need knobs.
Once your beets, onions and garlic are nice and soft, let them cool. If you don’t have anymore liquid in the pot, you messed up. Damn. You need liquid. Anyway…pour the whole mix into a blender and puree. Oh it’s going to be a crime scene, what with the crimson red beets, but hold on. Remember the pumpkin bowls? You don’t have to do this part; I just thought it was cool. Carefully remove the pumpkins from the oven and pour the beet soup in. Place it carefully…I cannot stress how truly careful you have to be…back in the oven for a little while. You can bring the temperature down.
Now for the fun part…did I mention that you should have a dinner guest? Plate the souped up pumpkins and top with the pumpkin top, so it just looks like a regular pumpkin. Chances are the beet soup is going to drip over the edge of the pumpkin a bit. That’s fine. It looks cooler. Presentation is the first thing that someone notices. Your dinner guest, in my case my Lovely and her Work Wife (another blog) were, dare I say intrigued. They even took pictures. What a compliment. The colors alone were pleasing and the soup was delicious. They didn’t know right off what it was…they had to “place” the taste. It was awesome and fun to eat. Food should be fun. Eat what you like, if food that comes in a greasy box is fun for you, than go for it, but don’t miss the fun part. They could have eaten the pumpkin bowls too, but the soup was very filling and once the pumpkin bowls are empty they revert back to their boring pumpkin state. Did you see anyone celebrating Cinderella’s carriage once it turned back into a rat-drawn pumpkin? No.
I’m trying to think if there is anything else I meant to tell you. The weekend was long, but now it feels short since I’m back to the most fabulous job ever. My Lovely and I moved the living room around this weekend and it looks great. I have a load of books to get rid of and since no one on Craigslist bought my AquaHoop, I guess maybe I will post the books. I can’t believe no one wants a weighted hula hoop. Whatever. I finally clipped recipes out of my vintage 2006-Present magazine collection so that I can toss those dust mamas out. Que mas?
I am really sitting here trying to recall the whole weekend. I didn’t work out worth a damn unless you count moving furniture, clipping recipes and watching Boat Trip on my fainting couch. OMG….BOAT TRIP. The movie was ok; you will NEVER eat a banana the same way. What happened with that one banana was quite obvious but transcends all lines and there is NO ONE that will remain untouched to say the least after the banana scene. I don’t care who you are. Whew. I’m going to leave on this note. Readers, I think you are fabulous, the Khloe Kardasian wedding was just as real as the show and I can’t watch the news anymore because I am scared of people who buy bulk nail polish remover.
You get me, that’s why I love you.
Lola
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