Absence makes the heart grow mildew.

16 06 2009

And now, the story.

I haven’t touched my blog in SO long.  A few weeks ago I finished my first year of teaching.  It was an extraordinary year!  I cried every night for the first six weeks of school because I hated it so much.  The kids were ridiculously wretched, I had no idea what I was doing, my program coach insisted on throwing new materials at me day after day, the kids were ridiculously wretched, and then there were the kids, who were ridiculously wretched.  I hated teaching, and, more specifically, I hated teaching those kids at that school.

Then things mellowed out.

One night in January I cried because the school year was half over and pretty soon those kids, those funny, smart, interesting, fantastic kids, would be leaving me.  I miss them terribly, by the way.  Some of them.  Particularly the ones who I was convinced were trying to kill me.  Jimmy B.  Marquis.  Briana P.  Victor!  Oh my god, Victor.  Those kids wrote me the nicest notes in my yearbook!  I learned much more from them than I managed to teach them.  That’s ok, I think I needed it more than they did.  I’ll never forget them.  Anyway, I held tightly to a very tenuous grasp on my sanity this past school year.  If I had tried to talk about while I was in it, well, I shudder to think what I might have said.  Anyway, that’s why I haven’t touched my blog.  School, baby.  I’m really excited for next year!  And after August 1st, it may be another year before I touch this dusty old blog again; I’m the cheer coach, yearbook advisor, and promotion coordinator.  Why yes, I do want to die!  Thanks.

But you came for the puppy!  Maybe even what turned out to be the sad tale of dinner, for which I had such impossibly high hopes.

About a week ago I was cruising tastespotting.com looking for dinner ideas.  Why?  That thing is like the Moosewood cookbook- infuriatingly complex, even while promising to not try my skills overmuch.  I found this recipe for something called El Jibarito sandwiches.  YUM!  This evening I endeavored to make some.  I fully intended to serve my family something edible.

As is often the case, I was missing several key ingredients.  No orange or lemon or lime juice?  No problem!  I have margarita mix!

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Marinating!

Wish I were…

How is this plantain-squishing thing supposed to go, anyway?

Here’s what they looked like, all assembled.

Here’s what was left, a whole lotta plantain:

Dude, those things were too difficult to eat!  The plantains were so thick and dry.  I think, if I ever make these again and don’t you go thinking I will because I most likely will NOT, I’ll quarter the damn things and then squish them.  Whatever.  I had such high hopes.

I shall seek comfort in the new love of my life, Special Agent Dale Cooper.  We named him this because the adoption thought he was part lhasa apso.  As we all know, those dogs were bred to live in the monastery with Tibetan monks.  Anyone who watched Twin Peaks over and over, and maybe over again, will remember the scene in the forest during which Special Agent Dale Cooper explains his dream-technique learned in Tibet.  Et voila, our doggie was named after one of our favorite TV characters.  But it turns out the kid is part chow chow, part miniature pinscher, part Norwegian elkhound, so what we should have named him is Al Swearengen, after our latest favorite TV character.  Too late, Cooper already has his tag and everything.

Seriously.  That face.  I am in love with this little boy.  However, he managed to gain four pounds in a month, so who’s little now?

Fatty Fatass.  How does he even fit in his bed??





Watch This Space

16 06 2009

I know I haven’t posted in a million years, I don’t know if my three readers have given up on me, but later this evening or tomorrow I’ll have a story for you, a story about my puppy and a story about the most delicious dinner which I’m about to start fixing! Wow one sentence!








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