Atlanta and Zombies Go Together Like a Coke and a Smile

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So apparently I've been living on another planet.

When I signed up to go to Bloggy Boot Camp in Atlanta, I was really looking forward to visiting that fine city again.

Sure, I've been to Atlanta before. I've enjoyed the friendliness of Atlantans, the wonderful shopping, the fine aquarium, and the World of Coke museum.

But, no one told me about the zombies.

On our drive into downtown Atlanta, my friend Chloe, who was riding with me, began pointing at the five lanes of oncoming traffic that had ground to a halt while attempting to exit that great city, just as we were attempting to enter it. She pointed toward the silhouette of the skyscrapers that make up the skyline of Atlanta, and that served as the backdrop to the parking lot of oncoming interstate traffic that stretched out before us. And then she began babbling something about zombies.

 Now, my friend Chloe has a number of interests that I don't share, and it's safe to say that vampires and zombies are among them. So, I humored her, responded politely but somewhat distractedly to her references to the zombie apocalypse and the CDC, and tried to pay attention to the ever thickening traffic that was closing in around us on our side of the highway, as we entered the city.

I think this might be the image she had in mind.

Little did I know then that the zombies were coming for me.

When our blogging conference was over,  two days later, we stayed an extra day in Atlanta, just to have some girlfriend time with our friend Anne. We also met up with our internet friends  Kristy and Kris, who happen to live in the Atlanta area. During the course of a lot of walking around Lenox Mall in Buckhead, my dogs began barking. (That's southernese for "my feet were starting to hurt". I'd worn the wrong shoes.) So by the time we got back to our hotel room that night, my dogs had pretty well commenced to baying the Hallelujah chorus, but we still needed to go out again, to eat dinner. Anne and Chloe very kindly offered to drive out to pick up some food to bring back to the room.

 But before they left, they turned on our TV to the AMC channel, because they both wanted to watch the first episode to the second season of a TV show called The Walking Dead. Apparently, this show is hugely popular, if you live on a planet that is other than Planet Boonie. My orbit, up to this point, had been zombie-free.

If only the zombies had never landed.

So, picture this:

I am left very much alone in a strange hotel room in downtown Atlanta. All by myself, alone in the dark, in a big city that happens to be the location of the CDC (Center for Disease Control), where crucial parts of the plot line of The Walking Dead have occurred. The TV is on. The scene of cars parked on the interstate and the skyline of Atlanta flashes on the screen. Zombies begin shambling menacingly toward the survivors of the zombie apocalypse, who themselves are cowering under the abandoned cars that litter the highway. Meanwhile, back in my hotel room, the darkness outside my hotel window has deepened. Strange creaking sounds emanate from the hallway outside my hotel room's door. The zombies on the show rot and glower over their shrieking, terrified victims. My blood pressure soars.  Zombie brains spurt on the screen, as arrows fired by the survivors pierce their skulls.

Zombie TV is NOT for the faint of heart at any time, but particularly, not for the faint of heart and queasy of stomach, who have been left alone in a dark hotel room in downtown Atlanta.

I made it out alive: but only because I closed my eyes at certain crucial points, covered my face periodically, and turned my head completely away when it got really bad. All survivors of horror movies know how critical it is to close your eyes when the going gets rough, and the stupid babysitter opens the basement door to go downstairs alone. Stupid, stupid, stupid move. Stupid babysitter.

And by the way, since my toe is messed up, I've taken to shambling around, much like a zombie.

 But I haven't caught the zombie virus. (I don't think...)

And it's not because I'm easily influenceable. I mean, it's not like I'd watch some stupid zombie show, just because my friends do it.



I'd be the lemming with the life preserver on.

Brace and Bit

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As in, brace yourself: this might hurt a bit.

I think I need one of those brace and bit things to rotoroot inside my sinuses.

I need the power of Mr. Clean in a Neti Pot.

Because all of this: 

Has been filled up with THIS:

Prayers for a speedy recovery would be much appreciated.

Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake with Bourbon Sour Cream Glaze

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A dessert to give thanks for.

My daughter LOVES pumpkin pie, AND she loves cheesecake, and she was TORN between which to ask for for her birthday dessert. And then, I remembered this cheesecake that I made for Thanksgiving, probably around 10 years ago. "How would pumpkin cheesecake suit you, my dear?" I inquired. She thought it might just do admirably, and so, that's what she got.

The review from my family: they all liked it very much. My son, who was sure he would hate it, since he hates pumpkin pie, has had 3 pieces so far, so I'd say it was a hit for him, for sure. If you enjoy looking for and trying out recipes in advance for Thanksgiving, and if you love cheesecake, you might want to give this one a trial run. As with most cheesecakes, you will need to make it the day/evening before you need it, to give it time to chill in the fridge overnight. (This is actually an advantage on Thanksgiving, I think: one less thing to make the day OF.)

The recipe I first found all those years ago through Gourmet magazine, and found it last week at epicurious.com.  I only modified it slightly. All three modifications were due to not having the ingredients on hand that the recipe called for. First, I didn't realize that I was completely out of cornstarch (I substituted a scant 1/4 c. of flour instead, and that worked out fine) and I also had only about half the sour cream I needed for the glaze, so the glaze was spread thinner than I would have preferred, but it still ended up being just fine. I had no heavy cream, and so I substituted half and half in its place, and that worked out fine as well. The recipe I'm giving you today is just as it appears on epicurious.com, but I'm letting you know that I had success even though I had to make a few modifications.

Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake with Bourbon Sour Cream Glaze


Ingredients


For the crust:

3/4 c. graham cracker crumbs
1/2 c. finely chopped pecans
1/4 c. firmly packed light brown sugar
4 T. butter, melted and cooled

For the filling:

1 1/2 c. solid pack pumpkin
3 large eggs
1 1/2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 t. ground ginger
1/2 t. salt
1/2 c. firmly packed light brown sugar
3 (8 oz.) packages cream cheese, softened
1/2 c. granulated sugar
2 T. heavy cream (I substituted Half & Half)
1 T. cornstarch (I substituted 1/4 c. flour)
1 t. vanilla
1 T. bourbon

For the topping:

2 c. sour cream
2 T. granulated sugar
1 T. bourbon

16 pecan halves for garnish

Preparation:


Make the crust:

In a bowl combine the cracker crumbs, the pecans, and the sugars, stir in the butter, and press the mixture into the bottom and 1/2" up the side of a buttered 9" springform pan. Chill the crust for 1 hour.

Make the filling:

In a bowl, whisk together the pumpkin, eggs, spices, and the brown sugar. In a large mixer bowl, cream together the cream cheese and the granulated sugar, beat in the cream, cornstarch, vanilla,  bourbon, and the pumpkin mixture. Beat the filling till it's smooth. Turn the mixer off, scrape the bottom of the bowl (a layer of cream cheese sometimes clings there) and mix for a few seconds more.

Pour the filling into the crust, bake the cheesecake in the middle of a preheated 350º oven for 50 to 55 minutes, or until the center is just set, and let it cool in the pan on a rack for 5 minutes.

Make the topping: 

In a bowl, whisk together the sour cream, sugar and bourbon. Spread the sour cream mixture over the top of the cheesecake and bake the cheesecake for 5 more minutes. Let the cheesecake cool in the pan on a rack and chill it, covered, overnight. Remove the side of the pan and garnish the top of the cheesecake with the pecan halves.

Do you love fall food, too? Go visit my friend Gigi on Kludgy Mom, to see lots more fall recipes, and join her linky party and giveaway.

I love Autumn ...

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...and I love this boy.

They grow up too dang fast, don't they?

Had my daughter's 14th birthday celebration this weekend. We built a fire outside, and roasted hot dogs, and my husband got this shot of our 17 year old son, while the girls were roasting hot dogs. 

Just thought I'd share.

And Keeping It Stupid...

Pin It You know,  in my last post, I kept it real.  Despite the fact that in general, in life, I usually exercise better judgment, today, I'm staying with the theme: I'm keeping it stupid.

And being the fashion maven that I am (not), I thought I'd mention that the morning after I posted that I FINALLY got my hair re-highlighted, Lara Spencer announced on Good Morning America that dark roots are all the rage now, being sported by the likes of Gwyneth Paltrow, Madonna, Jennifer Anniston, and (she didn't mention this person, but I took note of it myself the previous day while watching the Food Network), Giada de Laurentiis.

And here I thought I was just too poor to afford an appointment. Little did I know that I had been a fashion forward trendsetter. Who, then, blew it.

Story of MY LIFE!

But, at least, you, my friends, can benefit from my mistake, and feel 100% AWESOME about any dark roots you may be sporting. You're not tardy! You're a FASHIONISTA!!!

So, to continue my pattern of exercising extremely poor judgment, I thought I'd share this little photo with you, snapped on my trip to North Carolina to visit family last weekend, at a barbecue joint in the Smoky Mountains. Their barbecue was just OK, but the name of their restaurant was mighty fine. They are nestled in beautiful Maggie Valley, North Carolina, on the banks of (surprise, surprise) a creek. It was a lovely little venue: wish the food had been as outstanding as the beauty of the place where the restaurant is located. Butt their sign just BEGS for a photo, don't you think? And being the idiots we are, we obliged.

My husband encouraged me to "stick it out". How'd I do?

I get, really, I do, how very large I look. But...if I worry about a little thing like self-respect, how could YOU be amused?

I do it all for you!

So, here we are, stopping by a tourist trap that has tempted us for years, and showing our butts on the creek.

:-D

Name your favorite tourist trap, while we're on the subject...

Keeping it Real

Pin It In the interests of keeping it real, there are some things about myself I feel I must share.

• I got my hair highlighted yesterday. The stylist uses foils. The gray is coming in thicker and thicker, and pretty soon, I'm going to have to color the whole mop, because highlighting alone will  not be enough. This makes me sad. Right now, the grays blend in fairly well with the highlighting, and I don't look too washed out. But my complexion + gray hair + my regular hair color is not a happy color combo.  Yesterday, my husband dropped by the salon where I get my hair done, while I was in the midst, as it were. He had never seen "the price I pay for beauty" before. He was initially stunned, but then asked how many channels I was picking up. Then, he pulled out his phone, and snapped this picture:

  

  What price, beauty?
• Before I left to get my hair done did, I worked a good part of the morning to prepare something yummy-but-frugal in the slow cooker for my family to enjoy before they dash out the door to attend the men's evening Bible Study Fellowship class.  I made a lentil stew from America's Test Kitchen's cookbook, Slow Cooker Revolution. It smelled marvelous, all day long. It had many of the same spices as chicken tikka masala. I was eager to try it. The verdict on all my labor and toil? Meh. I mean, Jacob sold his birthright for THIS???  Mediocre may, in fact,  be too kind an adjective. I will not be repeating that recipe. It may have been my fault because I used brown lentils (they were what I had) instead of the red lentils that the recipe called for. But I think the main problem was that the whole dish was overcooked. But, let the record show: Susan in the Boonies cooked a loser dinner.
• I also made my daughter a pumpkin pie yesterday, in honor of her birthday. It was just out of the oven as they were leaving to go to the Bible Study. The recipe said to wait two hours before serving it. They left, knowing that there would be pie on their return.  But did I wait for them, good mother that I am? While they were gone, I cut into my daughter's birthday pie, and I helped myself to the very first slice, all warm and creamy, topped with chilled whipped cream that began to melt when it hit the warmth of the pie and the crisp, flaky crust. I wonder what kind of eternal punishment awaits me for cutting that first piece of pie while I was home all alone for four hours. Neither she nor her Daddy (who are my two pumpkin pie eaters) batted an eyelash that I had already cut into the pie, upon their return, so I didn't volunteer that I might perhaps be feeling the need to apologize for being a bad Mommy.

But now I pose to you this question, sitting alone in YOUR house, with warm, fresh pie that wasn't getting any fresher: how would YOU have fared???  I ask you, would YOU have waited the four long hours till they got home, while the clock ticked inexorably on, as the pie grew older and colder?

If you would have bit, you must acquit.

What say you? Will you cast the first stone?

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Pin It My little girl can get overlooked in crowd of kids where her brother hangs. She's sweet as she can be, but much more retiring than her brother. In truth, she's witty and warm, as well as being sugar and spice and all things nice.

But this summer, she decided she wanted to enter the talent show at youth camp. I think this took her friends aback, a bit. It certainly took the youth leaders by surprise. What talent did "Little Sister", the quiet one, possess?

Enough to cause a bit of a stir in that room.

Enough to tie for first place, apparently.

She was 13 this summer, when this was filmed. My friend Caryl just happened to have her iphone with her, and she took a video, so I got to see it, even though I wasn't there.

But today's a new day. Today, my little one is 14.

Happy Birthday, Baby: you may be 14, but you've got what it takes.

I love you, and I couldn't be more proud of my darling, dancing, twirling, whirling girl.

Awful Beautiful Life

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Harley Allen performing at the Station Inn, world-renowned bluegrass dive.
Image from here. 

When I went to the Bluegrass Fan Fest/Alison Krauss concert on Saturday night, they held a tribute to a recently deceased songwriter/singer/musician named Harley Allen. He had an extremely successful career as a songwriter. He wrote songs for Garth Brooks, Alan Jackson, Blake Shelton, Dierks Bentley and Darryl Worley, among many others. Darryl Worley helped Harley write the song I wanted to share with you today.

I have several reasons for wanting you to share with you this song. First, Harley was born the exact year that my husband was born, and died from cancer, right about the time my husband might have died from his heart attack. Harley's wife Debbie, and his kids were there that night at the tribute. Why does my husband still live, while Harley's wife and kids live on to mourn the lack of Harley in their everyday life? I have absolutely no idea. But the thought made me infinitely sad, and caused me to hurt for them, a family that must move onward without a husband and a father.

From the snippets of film that they showed, precious moment's from Harley's life, and the stories that they shared, I know Harley loved his life: he lived pretty large, and he is deeply missed by his family, friends, and  the Nashville music community.

Cancer sucks.

When Darryl Worley got up to share this song, he said that the day he walked into the room to write for the first time with Harley, that Harley played him the chorus to this song:

"I love this crazy, tragic, sometimes almost magic, awful, beautiful life."

Worley said that as he listened to both the words, and the melody of that phrase, he knew the best and most difficult part of the song was already written, and told Harley so. He said, "I can't write that song with you, because it's already written,". and Harley told him, "No, you're going to help me write the verses, and we're going to make them your own." Which, Worley said, was exactly what they did.

And together, they turned out a really good song. But Worley was right: it's the chorus that haunts me.

 I've lived long enough to know that life ain't always sunshine and roses. Recently, I've had occasion to talk with a couple of friends who are in very, very difficult situations. One had her husband of 30 years walk out on her. One is stuck in a relationship where her husband behaves as if she is of little worth to him. It grieves me to think about their situations. What it would be like to think I might have to start over at this stage in my life? How could I even do that?

But those were the kind of thoughts that flashed through my mind briefly back in May. What if he dies? What if I'm left alone? What in the world will I do? I CAN'T!

We used to joke in college, saying in mournful, despondent tones: "Life is hard. And then you die."

Well, it IS hard. And you DO die.

(Which, for the Christian, isn't really such bad news, at all...)

But even though life is hard, I find this life-love welling up inside of me. I confess, I find it easier on October days with brilliant blue skies, refreshing breezes and low humidity, after the punishing heat of summer is over. But even in the midst of the nasty weather:

I love this crazy, tragic, sometimes almost magic, awful, beautiful life.

Now, I know you might not be a country music fan. I'm not wild about some of the stuff that's out there myself. But give the lyrics of this song a listen-to.

Somehow or another, it points me back to my Creator, because, well, He's the one who gave me the gift of life. And as messed up as we are, and as much as life is full of tragedy at times, He still loves us. I can't help but think that in appreciating this gift of life that we've been given, that it's also appreciating the Giver of the gift.

So, it's my prayer that you'll take a moment now to appreciate the gift you've been given, and maybe even thank the Giver of the gift.





(PLEASE pardon the commercial: it's only a few seconds. The song's next.)

Loser Talk

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No, this post is not about me losing weight, more's the pity.  Image from here.

My friend Anne's shoulders are sprinkled with Golden Pixie Dust.

Well, OK, they're not, really. But she wins contests wherever she goes! Nearly every time I call her she is telling me about the latest giveaway she won. (And it has NOTHING to do with the fact that she spends an inordinate amount of time on Twitter. Nothing.)

But I rejoice with her in all her winning. And I do it sincerely, too, because I really AM happy for her.

But I enter every giveaway known to blogkind and never win ANYTHING.

Anne says saying that out loud is Loser Talk.

And she's right, you know: because that was me, saying it out loud. The Big Loser was doing the talking. :-D


In the immortal words of Vince Lombardi:

"Show me a good loser, and I'll show you a loser."

:-D

So, I've been thinking about doing a post on this for weeks. I've been thinking about calling it:

 "Cain't Win Nuthin'."




Except now I can't write it, because my losing streak has been broken, making me a Loser at Losing.

Because yesterday, I won a contest!!! Tickets to a festival, filled with wonderful events, and tons of fun!!!

Only we can't take advantage of them, because shortly after I entered said giveaway, we decided to make plans to go out of town that weekend on a family trip.

Which makes me a Loser at Winning.

And then dear sweet Hilary over at The Smitten Image mentioned my post on Inappropriate Giggling as one of her Posts of the Week, for "A Good Laugh".

"

(In this post, you get to laugh at me behaving like a Big Loser at a wedding, so if you haven't enjoyed a laugh at my expense lately, you really don't want to miss out on doing that.)

So, to wrap up this abominably depressing post, I'd like to remind you of something Papa Hemingway once said:

"You know what makes a good loser?

Practice."

When thought of in those terms, I'm The Mary Poppins of Losing: Practically perfect in every way.

That Mary Poppins: what a loser.

So, what about you? How's YOUR luck?

Or, and maybe a better question, what's the best thing you've ever won?

My Big Night at Salud! Cooking School with Deb Paquette

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Deb Paquette teaching at "Salud!" Cooking School

I had a dream come true last Tuesday night: I got to watch Deb Paquette cook my dinner, and talk with her the whole time.

For those of you who are not local to Nashville, Deb owned and operated my very favorite local restaurant, Zola, until a couple of years ago, when she and her husband made a decision to do something different. I thought she had left Nashville, but it turns out they never did completely leave. She's been involved with menu planning and helping a few new restaurants get themselves up and running (among them, Local Taco, and the soon to be opened Urban Grub).

But one day, about a couple of months ago, due to a terrible case of the trots (that I blame indirectly on Deb, because I ended up having an AWFUL meal at a restaurant that was NOT Zola, since Zola no longer exists) while I was anxiously making my rumble-tummied way to the bathroom at Whole Foods, I happened on the catalog that informed me that Whole Foods had a cooking school. And IN that cooking school, in a few short weeks, none other than DEB PAQUETTE would be teaching me to think "Outside the Box", culinarily speaking.

Well, pass the toilet paper, and SIGN ME UP!!!!!!!!!

I had the time of my life. (cue music).

I had a front row seat, and Deb chatted away with her rapt audience, as she made 3 soups:

Roasted Cantaloupe Soup
Roasted Beet, Carrot and Red Bell Pepper Soup
Smoked Onion Soup (she SMOKED CREAM to make this soup! Yes, I'm serious! Think about THAT!!!)

Beet, Carrot, and Red Bell Pepper Soup: look at that glorious color!!!

Roasted Cantaloupe Soup: garnished with Bacon, Balsamic Vinegar and Frozen Buttermilk

and

Pork Tenderloin done 3 ways, with a Trifecta of Rubs:

Moroccan
Turkish
French

Pork with a Trifecta of Rubs: Turkish Rub with Hummus, Feta and Mint/Onion Relish, Moroccan Roasted Pork with Mango Relish, and French Pork with Olive Aioli

. And her very own super special chocolate chip cookies.

I took a few pictures. (They're not the best. Sorry. But you'll get the idea.)

I took copious notes, as pearls of culinary wisdom dropped from her lips.

I tasted. I sighed with delight.

I giggled.

I sparked. I fizzed. For the lady who knows what time it is.
(Sadder But Wiser Girl/The Music Man reference. :-D )

Gosh, it was great. It fed my mind, my body, and my spirit.

I'm not going to give you any of her recipes until I have done a trial run myself at home, but I have no doubt I can replicate them. A few will take some special spice mixtures I'll need to concoct myself.

Ras el hanout is one of those. It's a Moroccan blend of spices. Deb pronounced it "razzle" as in dazzle. The name means "top of the shop" in Arabic, and refers to a mixture of the best spices a seller has to offer. Typically it might contain the "5 c's": cardamom, coriander, cumin, cinnamon, cayenne, as well as turmeric and nutmeg.

The Moroccan pork Deb topped with a mango lime pineapple ginger walnut relish. Aiyee!!! The flavors!!! My tongue went off on the road to Morocco! (cue Crosby and Hope)

The Turkish rub had a blackened spice called kimizi berbere in it (toasted cayenne and paprika that Deb toasts outside due to the potent fumes put off by the cayenne. as well as 2 teaspoons of fenugreek, a kind of yellow grainy stuff used in curries. She topped her Turkish pork with hummus, feta, and a mint/onion relish.

My very favorite was the French Pork with Olive Oil Aioli. Sacré Bleu!!! My tastebuds were in heaven, I assure you! The rub itself contained fennel seed, coriander seed, redpepper flakes, fresh rosemary, dried tarragon, granulated garlic and lemon zest. Cue Pepé Le Pew: Come weeth me to the Casbah, and we will make beeyouteeful music togezair. And the aioli on top? Oooooooh la la!! C'était magnifique!!!

I am making that one FOR SURE!!!  And I'll report back when I do.

No, that's not blood on her apron from fending me off. It's beet juice.

My heartfelt thanks to Deb, for giving me my very own Big Night. It was a night I will never forget, as long as I live!!!

Alison Krauss and Union Station Featuring Jerry Douglas

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Absolutely phenomenal. The Big Bison captured this moment with his camera.
Wish we could have bottled the whole evening!

Alison Krauss and Union Station featuring Jerry Douglas performed at Bluegrass Fan Fest on Saturday, October 1st. 

I just happened to be there. And here's how THAT happened.

We got a call from a dear friend at church on Friday afternoon. When I say "at church", I mean she was quite literally calling from the church building, where she had been working answering the phone. It seems she had received a call from a lady who was calling from the Kansas City area. The lady had tickets to attend the International Bluegrass Music Association Fan Fest in that was being held in Nashville this weekend, but was going to be prevented from attending due to her husband's health problems. And the tickets were non-refundable. So she had called her pastor and asked him for the name of a church in Nashville that she could call, so that she could bless someone else with these tickets. And her pastor thought of our church.

Now, it so happens that the girl answering the phone for our church happens to be our dear daughter's Sunday school teacher. And, you know how kids are always telling stuff on your family behind your back to their teachers? Well, our daughter had mentioned to her Sunday school teacher that every Saturday morning when her Daddy makes her pancakes, he listens to bluegrass. And when he tried doing yoga on the Wii for a while, he would listen to bluegrass at the same time. (Talk about your culture clash!!!)

So, our friend at church called us on Friday afternoon  to offer us tickets to this Fan Fest. We were thrilled! We heard a bunch of great music. Here's a tidbit for anyone else who likes Bluegrass: if you aren't familiar with a group called 18 South, be on the lookout for them. They were really great! And unfortunately, our favorite little known band Balsam Range had already performed when we found out about the concert, so we missed out on seeing them. (And Steve Martin, daggone it!!!) 

But what we DID have the pleasure of enjoying was one hour of musical bliss with Alison Krauss and Union Station featuring Jerry Douglas. I honestly believe that was one of the most amazing hours I have ever spent, musically. When every musician on stage is a complete virtuoso, what can you say? Wow. Just wow!

Well, anyway, we're thankful.

Nobody jump off a bridge after you listen to this next song, OK? But lyrically and melodically, it's a masterpiece. Hugh Prestwood wrote it. And as I listened to it last night, I wept with the awful beauty of it. Lately, in my bloggy life, I've run into blog friends who are grieving marriages that didn't work out/aren't working out, and so this very sad song made me think of you, last night, my friends. Sending out special hugs, and hoping that you will soon be overtaken by joy. But sometimes, the grieving has to come first.

If this song won't set you to grieving, I don't know what will.
Try not to be too bummed, though. Enjoy the haunting beauty of the song and her voice.

P.S. Are you an Alison Krauss fan? Ever gotten to hear her in concert?