Thankful

This year's Thanksgiving didn't involve the usual pilgrimage to Williamsburg, Va. Due to an unexpected emergency room visit for my Mom, my immediate family stayed local and threw together a Thanksgiving feast on the fly.

My Aunt Eleanor has been the main chef behind every family Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember. She's perfected the meal and somehow is always able to prepare countless dishes to feed everyone all the while making it appear effortless.

Well, our rendition of the meal wasn't effortless or gourmet. And the kitchen scene unraveled into a circus the hour leading up to eating time. But, the fact that I wore sweatpants all day made everything better. And, the meal turned out to be more than "just OK."

Our appetizers, clockwise from top left: Salmon salad roll; hummus (store-bought!); Jarlsberg cheese and Horseradish cheddar; homemade caramelized onion dip.

And then for the real spread! The only things ready-made here were the chicken and the rolls.  From left, rotisserie chicken; mashed potatoes (I mixed in cream cheese, sour cream and skim milk); chicken gravy with shallots; sourdough bread stuffing; green bean casserole (a recipe from my Aunt that's from scratch); sweet potatoes with marshmallows; cranberries; 7-up salad (a family tradition); rolls.

Let's take a closer look....

And some more...

Big, hefty plate full of goodness.

And lastly some pie! The recipe was taken right off the side of the pumpkin can. Yes. And the crust is a bit lopsided, but it all tastes the same going down!

Food aside, it wasn't the same this year not being in Virginia surrounded by relatives and good cheer. And it definitely wasn't the same this year not having my Mom at the dinner table with us. But we paid many a visit to her in the hospital and learned that things are going to be A-OK! Now that's something for which I am extremely thankful.

I am also mindful of and thankful for all the blessings in life that are often taken for granted: the means to provide the food, a job, supportive friends, a wonderful extended family, and of course a great immediate family! Big thanks to my brothers for the help in putting together this meal at the last minute, and for my parents for being superbly spectacular.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

Almost heaven, West Virginia

I ended up going with the West Virginia Sauce and Slaw Dawg last night at DC-3. I have a new-found respect for the state for producing such a heavenly dog. It made me wonder if the true meaning behind John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads" was not about the rolling hills of West Virginia, but rather for his secret love for chili-slaw dogs.

My friend Patrick decided to go with the Bay Bridge Pretzel Dog. The pretzel bun looked delicious and the simplicity of a dog smothered in crab dip with old bay seasoning seemed to work out well. My Nathan's all-beef hot dog was covered in chili and slaw. I also added some diced raw onion, pickle relish, brown mustard and some ketchup. I think I went overboard with the condiments, though, because the dog was kind of burried in there. Either way, I'm still smiling!

Reject meat scraps? Hardly!

In my lowly world, hot dogs reign supreme. They are the king of all comfort and guilty-pleasure foods. They even trump pepperoni, which pains me to type.

Hot dogs are like a spouse or a long-time significant other. You've seen their ugly side. You've peeked behind the curtain they put up for the rest of the world and know what they're made of...sometimes it's not pretty, but you love them anyways. And no matter what they do to you and your health, you'll always welcome them with a smile. Or maybe that's just me.

But today, I've got a smile on my face already. Tonight, hot dogs are on the menu as I venture to DC-3 in Eastern Market. I hope the place is as good as it looks so I can add it to my repertoire of go-to eateries. It opened at the beginning of November and was launched by the creators of Matchbox (which has some killer sliders and pizza!) so how bad can it be?!

Check out their CRAZY-delicious menu!

Check out their AMAZING hot dog gallery!

I'm having a hard time deciding between the West Virginia Sauce and Slaw Dawg and the Bay Bridge Pretzel Dog. And I refuse to get any more work done at the office until a decision is made.

Now, maybe hot dogs are the reason some people become vegetarian. But everything deserves a second chance, right? Don't hate! Embrace your love for the hot dog!

Meet Butch

I'd like to introduce you to the great black-and-white hope: Butch. The fluffy, lovable cat-dog. Butch was delivered to my roommate and me yesterday evening. His task? Find, defeat and eliminate Fievel(s)!

So far, Butch has not scared the mice out of their holes. He did a great job, however, of scaring the sin out of me. You see, I'm not really a cat person. And having never grown up with one around the house, I'm not accustomed to their nature. What I'm used to is hearing the clickity-clack of a dog's nails as he trots along a wood floor. I am used to the jingle of a dog's collar with all its registration and rabies metals. But the quiet pads of a weightless cat? Not so much.

Butch introduced me to himself, tail first. And it terrified me. I have a weird fear of black cats. They just make me uneasy. And when I was in my room unpacking from the wedding last night in the quiet of my room, out crept a scraggly, bushy black tail from behind my big sitting chair. I screamed and jumped around. Well, hello, Butch. Next time, no need for the dramatic entrance.

Since Big B's arrival, he hasn't held up his end of the bargain quite yet. I still like him, though. He reminds me of my dog Sebastian, the way he constantly rolls onto his back to get a belly rub. He also does a fair amount of following us around (when he's not hiding in the closet). It also appears that he enjoys sitting around and rubbing around every corner of the house more so than hunting. I hope he will start to feel more comfortable soon, because we only have him through the weekend.

Chop chop, Butch!

Crazy or 21st century communicator?

Telecommunications technology has evolved much in the past ten years and cell phone usage has become common place, regardless of economic status. Whether walking the streets of the city, riding the metro, or driving around town, it's hard not to see someone using a hands-free device for their mobile phone these days. Especially now that DC law prohibits use of cell phones while driving, and Maryland recently implemented a "no texting" law to increase safety on the road, many a driver has resorted to using speaker phone, an ear piece, or a blue tooth.

But many times, the ear bud is hard to spot. Many times, it's hard to tell whether the mobile phone is in the driver's lap on speaker. And every time I encounter one of those individuals, chattering away, gesticulating with a sense of urgency, I hope and pray that they're wearing a blue tooth on their hidden ear, or that their cell phone is buried in their lap.

But far too many times, there is no blue tooth. There is no cell phone on speaker. And there is no ear piece hidden behind hair. These individuals aren't sophisticated, 21st century communicators. They're just plain crazy. And I encounter them enough to make me think they're drawn to me somehow.

On the flip side, I am always sure to illegally hold up my phone while it's on speaker during a drive to ensure people know I am not talking to myself. I stopped wearing my blue tooth years ago out of fear of being mislabeled a nut job. I only sing in the car at night or when other cars aren't nearby. And if a car pulls up next to me, or the broad daylight fails to shroud my secret habit, I resort to humming.

Now today on my ride out of the city on the reliable Metro, a woman sat behind me...motionless... singing. This was new in my book of quacks. Was she crazy or was she just singing in her sleep? The singing muffled down to a low hum as we neared my final destination. At that point, I noticed we were the only two passengers left in that car.

Was her hum/singing a siren call to lure me in so she could attack me? Why would she want to attack me? My mind started to wander into a dark, dark spot. I weighed my options. I felt like I was writing my own Choose Your Own Adventure Book.

If attacked, would I:

a) run to push the emergency button to stop the train and call for help
b) fight her until we pulled into my station so I could run off the train for help
c) grab my pepper spray from the front of my bag
d) whip out my two-inch long Swiss Army Knife

At this point in the wild adventure...in my head, I snapped back to reality. The train reached my stop, I calmly exited and went on with my uneventful evening. Thank goodness the situation didn't turn into a "situation." Thank goodness no one else saw the whirlwind inside my head. And thank goodness I haven't blogged in so long that none of my "followers" will read this and realize that despite the fact I don't talk to myself (and go out of my way to make sure people don't think I am doing so) I am, in fact, a little bit nutty. :-)