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Grown Up Fruit Salad

Lauren

This is not buffet fare. Or potluck fair. This is no salad to wither away next to some forlorn cold pasta salad. This? This is a grown up, voting aged, “Honey, we need to talk about the kids” fruit salad. Griddle pan some chicken, serve next to some rice and lentils and POW! Right in the kisser with flavor! (Wait. That’s where all food goes, actually.) Healthy and tasty as the days of summer are long. Also? A lot of chopping. A lot. So, so much. But worth it!

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“I’ll take one of everything.” (image by Andrea de Stephani)

 

1 cup spring mix

1 cup cilantro

2 medium tomatoes

½ cup red grapes

3 strawberries

½ red or yellow bell pepper

1 green apple

1 orange

½ English cucumber

1 avocado

1 lemon

½ tsp salt

 

Chop first 10 ingredients fairly finely- you want the pieces to be small enough to have at least three or four different ingredients on each forkful. Chop, chop, chop. Chop. Keep chopping…good! Mix ingredients, season with salt, squeeze lemon over the top and you’re done! Now go ice your wrist.

Sautéed Soy Sauce Shrimp

Lauren 2 Comments

Four foxes found five forks fascinating. The turtles thought tiny tremendous theories. Little ladybugs love lit lanterns. And so on. I dig me some alliteration, is what I’m trying to say.

So. About the shrimp. I buy wild caught Texas Gulf shrimp, myself. I’m not personally a fan of the frozen, bagged shrimp; but I understand how convenient those are. But it’s awfully easy to peel and devein my own, and I like supporting my beloved gulf economy, so that influences what I buy. Get one of the tools designed for cleaning them and it really is as easy as unzipping a coat. Also, get rid of the black vein running down the back. Yes that’s shrimp poop. It’s still easy to do, though, so don’t look at me like that. Author’s advice actually assists another’s acceptance of ack-inducing actions. Alliteration.

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“Psst, Buddy. How’s about I slip ya a fiver and you have chicken tonight, eh?” image by Mussaddique Naina

I serve this over rice… but they’d be awesome in lettuce wraps or for sandwiches too. Or a taco. Everything is good as a taco.

 

1 lb peeled and deveined shrimp

1 clove garlic

Small bunch chopped cilantro/ or small handful chopped green stems of scallions/green onions.

Marinade:

¼ cup orange juice

4 Tbsp. soy sauce

2 cloves garlic, crushed

3 Tbsp. apple cider vinegar

3 Tbsp. water

2 Tbsp. sesame oil

2 Tbsp. olive oil

Peel and devein your fresh shrimp (because I know I convinced you to support our local Gulf fisheries.) Add all other marinade ingredients to bowl and whisk to combine. Add shrimp and marinate for 30 minutes.

Heat 2 Tbsp. of olive oil in sauté pan over medium heat. Add chopped garlic and stir until the garlic become aromatic. Add half shrimp to pan and let sit for 45 seconds to 1 minute without touching. Flip shrimp (they should be pink and have lost their translucency.) Repeat on other side. Remove from heat to a plate and cook the second set of shrimp the same way. Why not all at once, you ask? Because that would crowd the pan and drop the heat if you added to many at once. Once all the shrimp are cooked and removed to a plate or bowl, add all of the remaining marinade to the pan, increase the heat, and simmer. Once the marinade has reached a rousing simmer (Is that a thing? I’m making that a thing) let it reduce by around half and remove from heat. Serve shrimp over rice or however you’re eating it and sparingly drizzle with cooked marinade- I say sparingly because depending on how much you reduced it, it might be quite salty thanks to the soy sauce. Taste it before serving, to be sure of flavor.

Garnish with cilantro and or chopped scallions/green onions. Or not. It’s your life.

Why? And How?

Lauren

Parenting Mysteries:

Why do bibs have tags? Every damn bib has a tag. It’s not like we need the laundering instructions or anything- no bib ever should be dry clean only. And they don’t list sizes- so, WHY?

How do infants toenails get dirty? In her 10 weeks on the planet I’ve never set this child on the ground without a blanket under her… and yet her toenails are dirty. She can’t freaking walk…so, HOW?

And WHAT is UP with AIRLINE peanuts?! Yes, yes- this post is basically just 90s era Jerry Seinfeld.

Crapbooking

Lauren 1 Comment

Please god tell me the scrapbooking fad is on the way down in society… right? Because for a while there WAY to many women had entire drawers full of different scissors and spent WAY to much time playing with stickers and colored paper.  Plus splaying shit like “Springtastic!!!” over pictures of their own fat ass sitting in a field of bluebonnets. Seriously people. What the holy hell.

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Nobody is impressed with your cutting skills or your mad sticker game. Nobody. Image by Grazyna Suchecka

And I speak from quasi first hand experience. My own sister in law had a 7 drawer cabinet devoted to scrapbook supplies. Her first baby book had pop-up pages for god’s sake. I had a friend who spent one evening a week working with a group of other women scapbooking- and she literally told me: “I do it, but I’m not even really sure I like it.” WELL FIGURE IT OUT! Do you really like something or don’t you? Why do so many women spend their lives just blindly doing what society tells us we like without ever really thinking about it? What’s that Emma Watson quote: “Don’t feel stupid for not liking what everyone else pretends to love.”

Book Clubs? Thinking that pounding the wine is “cute”? Scrapbooking? Shoe collecting? Nail art? Baking cupcakes? How much of those in your heart do you truly and deeply feel?! BECAUSE DON’T WASTE YOUR TIME ON SHIT YOU DON’T! Life is short, do what makes you happy, for fuck’s sake. Reach farther. Aspire to more! (She says while writing on a tiny, tiny blog…) But see, I feel this one is the difference.

I’ve never spent one second on scrapbooking, and it does my contrary little heart good. I DID spend plenty of time bass fishing… before this 10 week old baby that was. Oh well, I’ll get back there because I truly and deeply love it.  But here’s my point: it isn’t really about the scrapbooking… it’s about embracing uniformity instead of reaching for individuality that drives me crazy. Please. As a gender let’s agree to embrace our differences instead of plastering on fake smiles and all saying we like the same thing.

Because if I have to hear one more story about glitter eyeshadow, or new scrapbooking scissors, or why you picked red toenail polish over pink when you went on vacation… I’m kicking you in the shins! And be honest, you bore yourself even telling them! Let’s talk about camping, or art, or anything else you have real passion for! And just put your pictures in a plain ol’ album- the only reason to spend 2 hours on cutting out sayings and using colored paper and stickers to dress up your pictures… are if your pictures are boring. Live a more interesting life and you won’t need stickers. Your pictures would speak for themselves.

(God am I feeling sanctimonious today, eh? Nobody tell my Dad.)

 

The Occasional Indulgently Introspective Post

Lauren

I never wanted to be a princess.

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Back in the day I never wanted a fairytale dress… but these days I’d wear the HELL outta that one though. Because I know you can be both badass AND a butterfly. (Image by Michael Michaeletti)

I’ve always wanted to be tough, as far back as I can remember.When I was 11 I used to check out books from the library about martial arts, and train in my room- push myself and my endurance. (NERD.) When I finally joined a karate class I quit the first one because it wasn’t real enough for my taste. Sparring just for points? Bah! What good is that?! I joined a full contact class. I wanted to learn how to throw a punch and take one. I was 12. I was obsessed with it- and I don’t say that lightly. When I was grounded I was not allowed to go to karate- so I ran  quite a straight and narrow path through my teenage years. (Stupid parents finding perfect motivation for good behavior. Grumble, grumble.) Weird to think karate kept me from drugs and sex and bad influences and smoking. But it did. I never wanted to be a ninja. I wanted to be a warrior. I’d like to think I got there. (I almost got kicked out for excessive force at every tournament I ever entered. I’d be an asshole if I was proud of that. I’m an asshole.)

Pride in that tough aspect of myself was the road back to a healthy self esteem (13-16 sucks when you’re a teenage girl, turns out). It’s still tied up in my body image and self esteem today. I’ve never wanted bigger boobs or smaller feet. I have wanted to get stronger when I’m feeling soft though. Being strong is more important than being thin. Though I dig that too, don’t let me fool ya. I just want to be strong and thin is all. None of that willowy crap for me.

I’ve been wondering why lately. Why did I want to be a warrior, a fighter, so badly?  It seems like such an odd thing now. Did I want power and that’s what my young mind associated it with? Did I feel powerless at some point?

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Power IS handy. (Image by John Trusler)

I did almost get in a fight once- some girls jumped me and 2 of my friends because one of my friends was going out with one of their ex-boyfriends. (Oh 6th grade- you so crazy! Also, why the hell are y’all mad at me in this scenario?!) I talked my way out of that one by cracking a joke- turns out that’s more than an adequate defense mechanism.(I filed that info away for future use, too) I never got in another fight because I had nothing I was out to prove at that point. I don’t think it was a response to powerlessness in that circle of pissed off cholas that did it though… I’d wanted to be in martial arts long before that. Wanted to be tough before that. I DO think that was the thing that finally made me sign up for a class though.

I’ve always been a bit contrary, so maybe that’s where it comes from. My 6 year old tells me she doesn’t want to be different. And my response is “That’s so weird! Why would you ever want to be like everybody else?” I never wanted to be like anybody else, so that’s an odd one to try to handle and empathize with for me as a parent. But I try.

I told very, VERY few people I was in karate when I was in middle school and high school. And after. Mostly because “I know karate!” is just about the most pathetic things you could ever possibly say. I bring it up just because I now think… huh. That’s actually kinda weird. Why did my younger self cleave to that? I wonder mostly because my oldest daughter is just about the same age as I was back then. I remember being that age and being so strongly drawn to something… so, will she? What will it be for her? For her sisters?

I never did want to be a princess. I wanted to be a fighter. And I did actually get there. Now, I wanted to be an astronaut and live in Japan too. But well… 1 out of 3 childhood dreams ain’t bad. And at least I accomplished the most useful one, you know?

The Occasional Post for Postings Sake

Lauren 1 Comment

Don’t talk about laundry. Don’t talk about laundry. You have more to offer the world than the banality of your damn laundry basket.

Do you know I’ve rewashed the same load 3 times now because I keep forgetting to move it to the dryer?

GODDAMMIT WHAT DID I SAY!?!

 

 

(And no joke the baby just puked on me and in her own ear {SKILLS.}. My mind is a wasteland of laundry)